Lilith pointed toward each contestant to an individual tunnel towards the exit. A representative from each sponsor will meet them on the other side.. Deathnibbles darted through, tail twitching, paws still trembling from the surge of divine energy that had restored him.

  Waiting beyond the threshold on the city streets was Anubis.

  “Come,” the jackal god said. His voice carried calm authority. “We have little time before the next act begins.”

  Neon reflected off Anubis’s gold cuffs as he guided the squirrel toward a pyramid rising above the skyline. It dwarfed the neighboring skyscrapers, its sides plated with mirrored sandstone that caught the glow of the underworld’s false sun.

  The entrance doors slid apart with a soft hydraulic sigh. Hieroglyphs along the walls flickered like elevator lights.

  “Welcome,” Anubis said, gesturing upward. “The Egyptian Headquarters, our own piece of eternity.”

  Inside, the lobby spread wide as a temple. The receptionist’s desk was carved directly from obsidian; behind it sat a Sphinx in a tailored blazer, spectacles perched on her muzzle. She looked up, surprised.

  “Anubis! Sir, I didn’t have you on my calendar today. Er, I mean welcome back! Can I assist you in any way?”

  Anubis shock his head “Tell Osirus I have arrived then meet me at gym.” As he just walked past.

  Elevators glided soundlessly, each one marked with symbols instead of numbers. As they ascended, glass walls revealed the inner workings of the pyramid: every floor a different department of the Egyptian afterlife. On one level, crocodile-headed warriors trained in formation. On another, ibis-scribes scribbled furiously under rows of glowing scrolls. Winged scarabs zipped through pneumatic tubes, delivering messages that buzzed like bees.

  Deathnibbles pressed his nose to the glass. “This is… your home?”

  Anubis almost smiled. “Our domain. Each floor represents a principle of Ma’at, the balance of life, death, and judgment.”

  The elevator dinged and opened onto a terrace garden under an artificial sky painted with stars. Anubis motioned toward a viewing balcony where the entire city of Lower Management sprawled below.

  “Why me?” Deathnibbles asked quietly. “You could have chosen anyone stronger… or at least taller.”

  Anubis leaned on the railing, his golden eyes reflecting the city lights. “Because you are not human.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Humans are predictable,” Anubis said. “They hunger, they covet, they fall to temptation. You…” he looked down at the squirrel, “you do not lie or cheat or steal. Revenge, perhaps. But you are honest. You cannot be bribed with souls or titles.”

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  Deathnibbles tilted his head. “So you think that makes me pure?”

  “I think,” Anubis said, “it makes you useful.”

  They resumed walking. “You despise Glenn,” the god continued. “I know. Keep despising him if you must. But you will watch him for me. Report what he does, what he chooses. His actions will decide more than his fate. Believe it or not, they will shape the order of every soul, even the forgotten ones like your kind.”

  “My kind?” Deathnibbles squeaked.

  “Animal souls,” Anubis said gently. “Dismissed as instinct, recycled without judgment. You and your family deserve better. If Glenn succeeds, that may change.”

  They reached the gymnasium floor, where stone columns met mirrored walls and hieroglyphs glowed faintly under the lights. The Sphinx from the lobby stood beside a rack of curved blades, tail flicking. “Ah, the new trainee,” she purred.

  Anubis rested a finger on Deathnibbles’ shoulder. “Train here. Learn discipline. I must see Osiris.”

  Deathnibbles saluted half-heartedly with a paw. “Sure. Go do your god stuff.”

  The elevator rose in silence to the apex chamber at the summit of the pyramid. The air grew still, heavy. At the top, the doors opened to reveal a square office bathed in amber light.

  Osiris waited beside a panoramic window that overlooked the city. His robes moved like water; his voice was steady steel. “I assume there’s a reason you brought that animal into my domain after making me look like a fool before every god of death?”

  He gestured toward a monitor on his desk. Onscreen, Deathnibbles was already in the gym, sparring awkwardly with the Sphinx, tail whipping like a banner.

  Anubis bowed low, one knee on the polished floor. “I did not mean to shame you, Osirus. But I knew you would never sanction what must be done.”

  Osiris folded his arms. “You never act without purpose, Anubis. So tell me, what scheme hides behind this farce?”

  The jackal god rose, eyes steady. “Glenn must win. The Reaper will lose and the squirrel will ensure it.”

  Osiris blinked. “You intend to sacrifice that creature? Have you forgotten why you went to manage the Reaper Core?”

  Anubis’s jaw tightened. “I have not forgotten. But everything will be irrelevant if Glenn wins.”

  “And the Corps?” Osiris demanded. “If Lucifer gains that power, the balance collapses. The afterlife becomes his factory.”

  Anubis inclined his head. “That will not happen. I have an informant from Upper Management that they are watching Glenn. They believe, as I do, that he may be key to bringing order or… Or he might be the one to free the afterlife from it’s prison of bureaucracy. He is their biggest threat..”

  Osiris studied him for a long, tense moment. “Lucifer is no fool. He will smell your plans before the ink dries on this contract you will make with that animal.”

  “I know,” Anubis said. “That is why I place my faith not in strategy, but in choice. Glenn’s choice.”

  Silence stretched between them, thick as incense smoke. Finally Osiris turned back to the window. “Very well. The creature may train here. Use my facilities. But remember, Anubis if your plans fail, never again will your scales ever be used. There will be no balance.”

  He looked again at the monitor. The Sphinx was showing Deathnibbles how to wield a miniature khopesh while a regal cat, sleek, gold-collared, unmistakably royal, watched with amusement.

  Osiris’s gaze softened. “How cruel you are, old friend,” he murmured. “I wonder what your own scales would say about you.”

  Anubis did not answer. He only bowed again, the jackal shadow stretching long behind him, and left the chamber.