Divinity Detox: Gods Gone Viral

Sun Wukong had one rule in life:

Always be moving.

Which was why standing still in celestial handcuffs while Erlang Shen read him his crimes was, to put it lightly, his personal nightmare.

"Destruction of public property," Erlang listed, scrolling through his divine tablet. "Unauthorized godly interference in mortal affairs. Reckless endangerment. Oh, and—" He squinted. "Theft of 146 Costco shopping carts?"

Wukong grinned. "I needed them."

Erlang rubbed his temples. "For what?"

The Monkey King stretched lazily in his chair, his golden fur shifting under the fluorescent lights. "Wouldn’t you like to know?"

They were in a celestial police station, a bureaucratic nightmare of glowing sigils, hovering case files, and paperwork that rewrote itself in real time. It was the domain of Erlang Shen—Celestial Enforcer, master of divine law, and a god who really needed a vacation.

Erlang wasn’t flashy like Wukong. He wasn’t the rebellious type. His job had always been keeping order—he was the three-eyed god of justice and discipline, the one who had once stood against Wukong when the Monkey King rebelled against Heaven itself.

And right now?

He looked like he wanted to throw Wukong into a volcano.

A low growl came from the corner.

Wukong turned his head and locked eyes with a three-eyed corgi, who was currently glaring daggers at him.

Erlang’s celestial hound. Loyal. Unrelenting. Judge, jury, and bark-executioner.

The dog barked once.

Wukong flinched. "Okay, okay, we get it. You’re terrifying."

Erlang barely looked up. "You could be helping with the Prometheus situation, but instead, you’re out here committing shopping cart-related crimes."

Wukong shrugged. "Hey, I’m bringing divine culture to the masses."

"You set three billboards on fire last week."

"They insulted my aesthetics."

Erlang let out a slow, pained breath. "I hate you."

Wukong’s grin widened. "I know."

The deal was simple:

Wukong got temporary freedom.

In exchange, he helped retrieve the Karma Codex before Prometheus did.

Which was how he ended up riding shotgun in Erlang’s celestial police cruiser—a sleek jade chariot that floated between realms.

Not because he was a model citizen.

But because he was the best thief in existence.

Sun Wukong—the Monkey King, Great Sage Equal to Heaven, the one who had once broken into Heaven itself, stolen its treasures, fought off an army of gods, and lived to tell the tale.

And now?

Now he was helping a divine IRS agent chase down a toddler with reality-warping powers.

"So let me get this straight," Wukong said, tossing a peach into his mouth as they soared through the clouds. "The most dangerous artifact in existence is in the hands of a three-year-old?"

Erlang’s third eye twitched. "Yes."

Wukong snorted. "I love this timeline."

"Focus," Erlang snapped, gripping the chariot’s reins. "The Codex is a universal stabilizer. If it falls into Prometheus’ hands, he can overwrite reality."

The Monkey King yawned. "So what, you wanna stop him with bureaucracy? Stamp a divine DENIED on his plans?"

Erlang’s grip on the reins tightened.

Wukong stretched lazily. "I say we steal it first."

Erlang’s eye twitched harder.

By the time they reached Kara’s neighborhood, things were already going to hell.

The sky above the temple flickered like a glitching screen. The ground trembled, the air warping between reality and raw code.

Wukong whistled. "That looks… unstable."

Erlang’s jaw tightened. "Too late. The Codex is activating."

They moved fast—too fast.

Inside the temple, Kara stood with Ravi clutched to her chest while Tommy squared off against someone Wukong hadn’t seen in a long time.

Wukong’s amusement vanished.

"Tyr?" he muttered.

But something was wrong.

Tyr’s missing arm wasn’t missing anymore.

It flickered—part flesh, part shifting digital code.

And his eyes weren’t his own.

Tyr, once the Norse God of War and Honor, had been rewritten.

Once, Tyr had been Odin’s most trusted warrior, the god who had sacrificed his own hand to bind the chaos wolf, Fenrir. A god of justice and unshakable duty.

Now?

Now, he looked hollow.

Erlang raised a hand, his celestial badge glowing in warning. "Tyr, stand down."

Tyr turned his gaze toward them. His pixelated fingers flexed.

"Prometheus sends his regards."

Then, with inhuman speed, he lunged.

To be continued…