[BL]Hunted by the God of Destruction Chapter 229: Morning doom

Victor’s hand lingered at Elias’s nape for a heartbeat longer before he finally turned. "You’re supposed to knock," he said, his tone cool but edged with sothing heavier.

Uno’s lips curved faintly, though the expression never reached his eyes. "Doors were not made for ."

"Neither was timing," Elias muttered under his breath, reaching for his glasses with one hand and brushing Victor’s collar with the other, as if to reassert the presence of order where there clearly wasn’t any.

Uno’s gaze flicked toward him then, the faintest gleam of curiosity sparking across that impossible blue. "Ah," he said softly, "the mortal is still pissed at ."

Elias t his gaze without flinching. "I prefer ’scientist’ to ’mortal.’"

Uno inclined his head in mock acknowledgnt. "Then, scientist... prepare yourself, because you have to help get my Connor back."

Elias raised an eyebrow, torn between flinging his tablet at Uno’s head and laughing. "And this was your entry line? Trouble over your failed love life?"

"Technically... it’s his fault." Uno said while pointing his finger at Victor. "The man won’t talk with . At all."

"And here I thought the world would collapse or sothing."

Uno’s mouth curved, the smallest flicker of sothing that might have been amusent if it weren’t so perfectly sculpted. "It might," he said, perfectly calm. "Just not for the reasons you think."

Victor exhaled slowly through his nose, the sound not quite a sigh but close enough to earn him one of Elias’s side glances, the kind that promised an argunt later, once divine chaos had cleared the room. "Uno," he said, tone clipped and patient in a way only immortals could manage, "if you’re here to gossip about heartbreak, I suggest you find another reality to haunt."

Uno’s bright blue eyes narrowed. "It’s not gossip when the man you created refuses to speak to you."

"Then perhaps," Victor said dryly, "you shouldn’t have made him capable of silence."

Elias, arms crossed now, leaned back in his chair with the air of a man resigned to the fact that the gods had apparently run out of apocalypses and moved on to lodrama. "So, let get this straight," he said, glancing between them. "You’re telling that the being responsible for reality just ca here because his boyfriend ghosted him?"

Uno’s expression didn’t change. "Fiancé," he corrected. "And yes."

Victor’s eyes closed briefly, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. "He is not your fiancé. You’re unbelievable."

"I learned from you," Uno replied smoothly.

Elias couldn’t help it; a quiet laugh escaped him before he could smother it. The sound drew both of their gazes, one crimson, one ice blue, both equally unimpressed. "Sorry," he said, not sorry at all. "It’s just comforting to know that divine dysfunction looks exactly like the human version. Petty, dramatic, and entirely unproductive."

Uno turned his gaze fully on him this ti, that endless, impossible depth focusing with unsettling precision. "Careful, scientist," he said, the faintest thread of mirth curling through his tone. "You’re starting to sound like him."

Elias blinked once, caught between pride and irritation. "If that’s supposed to be an insult, you’ll have to try harder."

Victor, anwhile, had folded his arms, his patience finally beginning to show cracks. "Why now, Uno? Why co here?"

"Because one, you have to do your job as the Executioner; Poseidon is going wild," Uno said simply. "And two, you are technically the closest thing to a friend I have. Or family. Which sounds disturbing."

Victor stilled.

For a mont, even the faint hum of ether through the walls seed to pause, as if the building itself hadn’t expected that kind of honesty to escape Uno’s mouth.

Elias’s brows lifted slowly over the rim of his glasses. "Did the Creator of the known universe just say the word ’friend? I feel like I should record this for historical docuntation."

Uno ignored him entirely, stepping farther into the room. The air around him shimred faintly, each step bending light as though reality was quietly making space. "Don’t make this sentintal," he said, tone detached but just a little too quick. "It’s rely a functional truth. You’re the Executioner; I’m the Creator. Balance requires conversation."

Victor’s jaw flexed once, the motion small but sharp. "You were supposed to stay out of the mortal systems, Uno. Every ti you interfere, sothing fractures."

Uno’s lips curved, faint and cold. "Mortals keep breaking things without . At least when I do it, the results are interesting."

"Interesting," Elias repeated flatly. "That’s one word for flooding an entire coast."

Uno turned to him with polite offense. "That was Poseidon. He’s bored again. Which brings us to point one... Executioner, your jurisdiction."

Victor’s fingers twitched at his side, crimson light flickering faintly beneath the skin like sothing restrained. "You can handle him."

"I could," Uno said, every syllable precise. "But he listens to you."

"Because he’s afraid of ," Victor replied evenly.

"Yes," Uno said, as if that explained everything. "And I am not."

Elias groaned quietly, dragging a hand down his face. "And sohow, that’s the most believable thing you’ve said all morning."

Uno ignored him, which seed to be his preferred communication thod when mortals interrupted the divine narrative. "Poseidon has been stirring storms over the northern archipelago. He’s angry about sothing, mortals building wind farms in his sacred currents, I think, but his tantrum is pulling ether directly from the ocean bed. If it continues, half the coast will destabilize, and your corporation’s clean-energy satellites will burn out trying to compensate."

Victor’s gaze sharpened, the faintest shift in his stance betraying that he was listening now. "And you waited until now to tell this?"

Uno’s tone was infuriatingly serene. "I thought you might enjoy a morning free of catastrophes. Consider this my gift."

Elias exhaled, a soft, incredulous laugh escaping him. "You have a fascinating concept of generosity. You bring existential doom and call it a gift."

Uno’s eyes flicked toward him again, calm and unreadable. "Perspective, scientist. It keeps the world interesting."

"Interesting," Elias muttered, "is what people say before sothing explodes."

"You can call it what you want, but first help with Connor."