And that's exactly how it continues, without knowing that it's already over and that now what exists is something else trying to be born amidst the rest, and Jesus is still standing there watching Thyatys play like he'd found a diamond buried in the backyard of a messy house because the guy didn't have a hero's pose, didn't have a pretty speech, wasn't saving anyone, wasn't praying, wasn't having any prophetic vision, he was playing Warzone zombie mode with his hands dirty from french fries and ice water beside him, and even so he was going through things that many trained soldiers would have given up on a long time ago.
Jesus: Okay, so now stop playing around with common difficulties and let's see if you can handle the whole zoo.
Jesus: Resident Evil first, because if he gets past a mutant lab creature without freaking out, he's already halfway there.
Jesus: No gifts yet, Thyatys, I want to see your head first, then your body.
On the screen, the map changes without warning; no updates appear, no patch notes appear, nothing appears, just that strange feeling that the game has breathed differently, and Thyatys notices it immediately because anyone who plays every day feels when something is out of place, just like a homeowner feels when someone moves the sofa by two centimeters.
— Thyatys: Whoa, wait a minute, this wasn't like this before.
— Thyatys: nah bro what the hell is this now it looks like a fucking lab
— Thyatys: It's fucking beautiful and that only worries me more.
The atmosphere on screen begins to get damp, dark, industrial, with those white morgue lights, metallic corridors, heavy doors, cracked glass, old blood on the floor, but it's not gratuitous gore, it's worse, it's organized disaster, the work of people who tried to control and lost control, and Jesus is putting it all together like someone opening a catalog of the end of the world.
Jesus: Let's start classically without exaggerating, first the slow but deceptively calm ones, then the truly wrong ones.
Jesus: I want to see if you can learn the pattern before you learn to run.
The first ones enter the screen, distorted, pale-skinned, dead-eyed, walking in that broken way that seems easy until they get too close, and Thyatys fires two shots into their heads almost automatically.
— Thyatys: easy
— Thyatys: if that's all it is, then it's all good, partner.
— Thyatys: come in line, it makes my life easier
Jesus doesn't answer, he just increases the number and changes the rhythm because the trick was never about strength, it was about adaptation. One falls, another comes, two are slow, one runs, four pretend to be slow and accelerate on top, one lies on the ground and pulls the ankle, and Thyatys realizes the design's malice too late.
— Thyatys: Oh no, here comes the nonsense.
— Thyatys: that son of a bitch was on the floor waiting for me
Thyatys: ok ok no rush no rush
He retreats, clears the corner, switches weapons, uses the barrel from the scenery, doesn't enter the tunnel, idiot, doesn't stand still like a dumb streamer reacting late on a live stream, and Jesus tilts his head slightly because that matters more than good aim, what matters is the instinct not to die in vain.
Jesus: Don't force your way in unnecessarily, don't hunt for useless kills, he's thinking about surviving, not about showing off.
Jesus: Good start
Then come the others, the most flawed ones in Resident Evil, the ones that look like a drunken scientist said, "What if we mix disease with sin and an infinite budget?" and the screen delivers a creature with arms that are too wide, too bulky, running with impossible weight, and Thyatys takes a step back from the sofa, even inside the house.
— Thyatys: Oh, go fuck yourself, that's not a zombie, that's a legal problem.
— Thyatys: whoever approved this crap in the lab was asking to die.
— Thyatys: Hey big guy, come here then
He doesn't freeze. He curses, which is different. Cursing is healthy, freezing is death. The creature advances, breaks through walls, throws pieces of metal across the screen, forces Thyatys to abandon his comfortable, circular position. He tests his shot, it doesn't penetrate. He tests his leg, almost nothing. He tests his eye, reaction. Jesus observes the exact moment when his head connects the pattern under pressure.
— Thyatys: Okay… I get it… ugly, big, and conceited.
— Thyatys: then it must have a ridiculous weakness because games love that.
— Thyatys: show your face properly, you wretch
That's right. The beast falls not through brute force but through reading, and Jesus likes that because everyone admires strength, but few possess reading. And he doesn't want a horse, he wants someone who will last.
Jesus: Good... very good
Jesus: He didn't argue with the creature, he argued with its logic.
Jesus then changes the flavor. No more laboratory and in comes speed. World War Z. No more theatrical slowness, no more elegant, dark corridors. Now it's volume. Now it's human mass driven by despair. Now it's the kind of zombie that climbs walls as if physics were an opinion. The scene opens up: city, wide street, overturned bus, helicopter in the background, sound of a crowd. The screen becomes an anthill attack fueled by hatred.
Jesus: Now I want to see your brain when quantity replaces quality.
Jesus: Because the world ends more easily through numbers than through a special monster.
Thyatys' eyes widen slightly, but her mouth continues to move quickly.
— Thyatys: Oh no, man, not that, you guys went too far!
— Thyatys: That's not a horde, that's a market promotion.
— Thyatys: Run, damn it, run, damn it, run!
And he runs, but not just any way. He climbs, seeks height, understands bottlenecks, uses delayed explosives instead of wasting everything on the first wave. When the mass starts piling up to climb the wall like a swarm from hell, he doesn't just stand there looking and thinking it's pretty. He's already changing course.
— Thyatys: you want to go up then bring this grenade up here
— Thyatys: In an open field, I'm a corpse, so no movie heroism.
— Thyatys: choke point, respira, spleen, anda
Jesus almost smiles. Almost. Because there is something there that he had been searching for in humanity for a long time: the capacity to abandon ego in exchange for permanence. The foolish player wants to dominate the map. The clever one wants to keep breathing.
Jesus: He gives up ground to gain time.
Jesus: It's better to lose a room than to lose your whole life.
The horde changes direction. Now it comes from the side. Then the roof. Then the window. Then one falls from the top of the bus as if the game were reading fear. Thyatys starts to sweat and his posture changes on the sofa; it's no longer domestic laziness, now it's a leaning body, stiff forearms, total focus. The canned potato chips are forgotten. The water heats up on the table. His world shrinks to the screen and Jesus keeps squeezing mercilessly, but without injustice.
— Thyatys: Okay, okay, I got the message. Don't you guys ever get tired?
— Thyatys: Okay then, me neither
— Thyatys: comes as a group, dies as a group
He holds back. He almost loses once in a corridor when he hesitates for half a second between saving ammunition and saving time. He chooses time. He runs. Jesus mentally notes it down.
Jesus: The Right Choice
Jesus: Ammunition returns, but a second lost does not.
Then it changes again. Now comes the taste of persistence. The Walking Dead. Not for the speed. For the wear and tear. For the world that tires you. For the danger of thinking that slow means easy. The scene closes in on an abandoned road, a dead gas station, a fenced-in farm, an ugly twilight. Less spectacle, more end of patience. Jesus knows that this kills more humans than big monsters. Big monsters are scary. The routine of threats consumes.
Jesus: Now let's see if you can endure deadly boredom without doing something stupid out of arrogance.
Jesus: Slowness kills because it convinces you to relax.
Thyatys immediately notices the change in tone.
— Thyatys: Oh, now it's turned into that atmosphere of dirty people and bad decisions.
— Thyatys: This is worse than a boss; at least a boss warns you.
— Thyatys: here it's all about slipping up and biting, right, you rascals?
Zombies enter in small numbers. Two here. One there. One behind the fence. One dragging its leg. Another standing still, feigning death. The map doesn't pressure you with force. It pressures you with overconfidence. And Thyatys, who once cursed the excess, now needs to respect the scarcity. He cleans every corner. Closes doors. Reopens them. Checks windows. Doesn't get enamored with shiny loot on the ground. Listens. Waits. Walks.
Jesus: That's it... that's right.
Jesus: Learn to treat silence as a trap.
In the middle of the scene, an overly good backpack appears in an incredibly stupid place. Thyatys stops. He stares.
— Thyatys: nah… good loot in the middle of nowhere is practically asking for trouble.
— Thyatys: I was born at night, not yesterday, partner.
— Thyatys: stay there for another sucker.
The moment he refuses, three emerge from under the car, one from the cab, two from the side door of the gas station. A clear ambush. Jesus watches, satisfied.
Jesus: Excellent
Jesus: Greed kills more than infection.
Here comes the Korean from the train. And here it's not just zombies, it's mass despair in a confined space, that compressed panic energy where every meter becomes a civil war. The map closes in on train cars, automatic doors, glass, people running, narrow corridors. Now it's not just about shooting. Now it's about breathing with shortness of breath.
Jesus: Now the test is claustrophobia urgently.
Jesus: I want to see your brain when there's no room left to even think.
Thyatys was already laughing nervously.
— Thyatys: Oh no, man, a train? Seriously? You want me to have a heart attack?
— Thyatys: narrow corridor is cowardly, this is an international court
— Thyatys: okay… okay… no panic no panic my ass
The first ones come rushing in, frantically, broken, with that movement that's frightening because it looks like a wounded and hungry animal at the same time. The sound alone is already putting pressure on you. Thyatys misses two shots because he's too hasty, realizes it, stops trying to be nice and starts using pushes, doors, timing.
— Thyatys: no movie headshots now, no
— Thyatys: kneel, push, close the door, walk
— Thyatys: Fuck elegance, I want to get out alive
And that makes Jesus like it even more. The real world doesn't reward style, it rewards continuity. The boy on the couch understands this without anyone explaining it. When a train car gets crowded, he doesn't try to clear it. He isolates it. When two runners compete for a route, he chooses the ugly one that leads to the exit, not the pretty one that gets highlighted.
Jesus: He sacrifices pride without suffering for it.
Jesus: A human being too rare.
Then the train goes dark. Darkness. Only reflections of external light entering through the windows like knives. The zombies disappear for half a second. Sound of a hand hitting the glass. Sound of people crawling. Does Thyatys freeze? No. It slows down. And that's more important.
— Thyatys: ok… ok… darkness is a dirty trick
— Thyatys: breathe, listen, don't panic
— Thyatys: whoever moves first dies
He uses sound. He turns before the image. He gets it right before he sees properly. Jesus notices this like someone finding a hidden tool in a pocket that even the owner didn't know he had.
Jesus: Hearing under pressure... interesting.
Jesus: Perhaps there's more to it than I thought.
But nothing happens yet. Keep testing. And finally, it brings the taste of I Am Legend. Not the main speed, not the mass scare, but the intelligent predator of the night, the silence of an empty city, the feeling that something is watching you. The map becomes a deserted metropolis, an abandoned car covered in dust, a crooked license plate, the fading light of late afternoon. The danger isn't running on the screen. It's waiting for the light to dim.
Jesus: Now I want to see fear of the invisible.
Jesus: Many people are good against what they see and useless against what they foresee.
Thyatys walks slowly down the empty avenue on the map. Tall building. Wind. No enemies in sight. And that's worse than a horde. He feels it.
— Thyatys: Oh no, this silence here is awful.
Thyatys: An empty city means somebody's watching, bro, it's always like that.
— Thyatys: If I get scared, I'll curse the developer out loud.
The first one doesn't attack. He appears on a rooftop, too quickly, and disappears. Then another one in the shadow of the bus. Then my reflection in a cracked shop window. Nothing direct. Everything suggested. Jesus wants to see if Thyatys falls into stupid paranoia or useful paranoia.
— Thyatys: I saw you, you bastard!
— Thyatys: You can run on the walls all you want, I'm not going into the dark, not a chance.
— Thyatys: daylight route only, the joke's over
Good choice. But Jesus wants more. The sun sets faster. The shadows lengthen. The map pushes you into the tunnel to reach your goal. Short and dark path. Or long and exposed route. Thyatys stops.
— Thyatys: A dark tunnel is never an option; that's a universal rule.
— Thyatys: That's a long road then, if I die I'll die tired but not stupid.
— Thyatys: Game design loves calling me a coward until I'm still alive.
He's taking the long way around. It takes longer, it costs more, but he avoids the obvious trap. Jesus is almost genuinely laughing now.
Jesus: Excellent
Jesus: Your problem isn't courage, it's that you think before acting like an idiot.
Night falls nonetheless. Now come the others, the more nervous, stronger, more aggressive ones, not exactly the same undead as before, but creatures of infection taken to the extreme, with predator speed and dry hatred. Thyatys gets a real fright when one crashes through the side window and falls almost onto the camera.
— Thyatys: FUCK YOU SON OF A BITCH
— Thyatys: your CGI devil almost gave me a heart attack.
— Thyatys: beauty is now real war
He doesn't back down too much. He doesn't freeze. He hits, he dodges, he uses the scenery's flare, he understands that light matters, he understands that shadow protects them, he understands that line of sight is worth its weight in gold. Jesus didn't teach anything. The guy is reading it all by himself.
Jesus: He learns without a manual.
Jesus: I can work with that.
The session becomes a mix. And now Jesus shuffles everything. No longer one style at a time. Now a map with a train corridor, a laboratory in the background, an open street, an urban night, a ruined farm. A patchwork quilt of the end of the world. Resident Evil in the body, War Z in the number, Walking Dead in the wear and tear, a Korean train in the squeeze, Legend in the hunt. The training levels up because the real world doesn't come organized by franchise. It all comes together and badly mixed.
Jesus: Enough with separate classes.
Jesus: Now is the final test before I decide what to do with you.
Thyatys feels the change like a cold punch.
— Thyatys: Oh… oh… now everything's mixed up.
— Thyatys: you guys are messing with me on a very personal level.
Thyatys: Okay... no complaining... complaining after you're alive
The first wave is slow and wide. He clears it. The second runs along the sides. He climbs. The third falls from the ceiling of the attached wagon. He closes the door. The fourth comes from afar making noise but doesn't attack, only pushes it into the darkness where the others wait. He notices.
— Thyatys: ahhh you want to herd me to the tunnel, right?
— Thyatys: No sir, I am nobody's sheep.
— Thyatys: If I'm going to die, it'll be while cursing me out here.
And he holds on from the outside. He loses resources. He gains positioning. Jesus approves. Then one of the big lab-grown ones emerges, opening a path through the fast-moving horde. A cruel combination. The big one forces movement, the horde punishes movement. Thyatys stops for a second. A choice of death or genius hangs there.
— Thyatys: yes… yes… penny
— Thyatys: big guy pushes, rats punish, so I kill the rhythm
— Thyatys: let's see if you guys know how to climb a broken staircase
He uses broken vertical map layouts, a destroyed half-staircase that slows down the fast lanes, exposes the big guy's head, and creates a short window. It barely works. Very barely. But it works.
Jesus: You're too ugly to fight, and I like that.
Jesus: The beautiful die young, the ugly live on.
In the midst of the chaos, the game cuts the sound for two seconds. Not a bug. Test it. Thyatys now needs to read pure movement.
— Thyatys: Oh, they left me without audio, now that's some premium bullshit.
— Thyatys: Okay then, pure focus, let's go!
He gets it right less often. But he makes mistakes intelligently. Safe mistakes. Mistakes that buy space. Jesus takes notes again.
Jesus: He doesn't collapse when he loses a tool.
Jesus: He reduces ambition and preserves life.
The game stretches on. Minutes that feel like hours. The world outside is still ending, and inside, the training of a man who doesn't even know he's being trained. The screen, the sofa, the headphones, the house with four bedrooms, three and a half bathrooms, the full refrigerator—everything continues to exist and at the same time has become a cocoon of divine natural selection. There's irony there that Jesus understands and almost finds funny.
Jesus: Half the world has fallen and I'm choosing people based on a game.
Jesus: But honestly… this is where many people show their true colors when no one is looking.
Thyatys reaches a point in the race where he no longer swears out of nervousness. Now he swears for rhythm. It becomes a tool. A survival cadence. The swear word enters where another would pray.
— Thyatys: right-wing disgrace
— Thyatys: date date date betting
— Thyatys: don't look at the big one now, wipe the quick first fuck
Jesus notices this too. Functional internal dialogue. Good sign. People in panic talk outwards. People in struggle talk to themselves.
Then comes the false relief. Safe room. Light. Ammunition. Lockable door. Water in the environment. Everything inviting you to lower your guard. Jesus observes in silence. This test kills more than just a boss, too. Thyatys enters, breathes, picks up an item, leans against the door and stops.
— Thyatys: no… it's too easy
— Thyatys: Safe room too early is a scam.
— Thyatys: I can come in, but sleeping here is a no-go.
The second he steps out, the safe room wall collapses, a large creature bursting out the side, followed by a flurry of rapids. A comfort ambush. He escaped because he suspected the relief. Jesus finally smiles for real.
Jesus: I found it.
Jesus: Now I really think so.
And it's not because Thyatys is the best marksman in the world. He isn't. It's not because he has supernatural reflexes yet. He doesn't. It's because he embodies a package that's hard to find whole in a modern human: he distrusts what's easy, adapts without tantrums, lets go of his ego when necessary, reads patterns in chaos, accepts losing ground to gain time, doesn't romanticize foolish courage, and even swears well. That counts. It counts a lot.
Jesus: Okay... enough testing without touching.
Jesus: You don't deserve strength because you hit hard.
Jesus: You deserve it because you keep thinking when everyone else wants to turn you into an animal.
But even so, he holds back. It's not enough yet. He wants the final test. The test of the bare minimum moral choice. Because even a rat can survive alone. He needs to see what Thyatys does when the game offers to save someone and risk the run. The screen changes. An NPC emerges wounded on the other side of a walkway as the horde approaches. The main objective is to the left, the person to the right.
Jesus: Let's see now.
Jesus: Because if you're only competent, I'll use you.
Jesus: If you still have room for another human... maybe I'll actually choose you.
Thyatys sees the scene and starts cursing before even making a decision.
— Thyatys: Oh no, man, no escort!
— Thyatys: mission to save NPC is a psychopath's invention
— Thyatys: if you run slow, I'll abandon you without guilt, I'm warning you now.
The NPC shouts for help. The safe route calls. The horde closes in. Thyatys freezes for half a second. Jesus watches without breathing, if he even needed to. The decision comes.
— Thyatys: Oh, go fuck yourself, hurry up then.
— Thyatys: I'm going to save you, but you're going to get in my way, and I already hate you for that.
— Thyatys: run straight and don't pretend to be heroic because I'm not your father.
He goes. He saves. Not out of brilliant, saintly kindness. He saves grumbling. He saves angrily. He saves in the most human way possible. And that, for Jesus, is worth more than a martyr's speech with posturing.
Jesus: Perfect
Jesus: You helped without wanting to, that's real.
Jesus: That I can respect.
The rest of the race becomes the conclusion. Thyatys drags the NPC, holds the runner, loses more than he wanted, wins less than he deserved, survives by a hair's breadth, finishes the run with the screen all dirty, almost out of resources, heavy breathing into the microphone, shoulder stiff on the sofa. When the stage ends, he rips off an earphone and stares at the screen for a few seconds.
— Thyatys: dude… what kind of match was that?
— Thyatys: I swear on everything that this game has never treated me like this before.
— Thyatys: But you know what… I liked it.
Jesus inclines his head as if confirming the final signature on an invisible document.
Jesus: And I liked you.
Outside, the siren continues somewhere. Gunshots still ring out. The world is still going to hell methodically. But here, in this house, on some random couch, a guy playing zombie mode has just passed through a divine sieve made from bits of Resident Evil, World War Z, The Walking Dead, a Korean train invasion, and a nocturnal predator in an empty city. And not only did he pass through, he learned without knowing it.
Jesus: Okay… now I know how to refine you.
Jesus: I helped the others because of their function.
Jesus: I will mold you differently.
Thyatys drinks the now lukewarm water, wipes his hand on his shorts, stares at the screen, and returns to the menu as if it were just another silly, well-spent night.
— Thyatys: ok… one more
— Thyatys: If another hell like this comes along, I want to see how far it goes.
— Thyatys: bring it on then
Jesus almost laughs because that's exactly the kind of phrase that only sounds good before life responds.
Jesus: Be careful with open invitations, boy.
Jesus: Because I will accept
And the screen flashes in a different way, subtle, almost affectionate, like someone marking without revealing it. Thyatys doesn't notice. Yet. But the decision has already been made.
Jesus: Tomorrow I'll really begin.
And that's when this training stops being just a game and starts turning into preparation, because up to this point he's learned animal patterns, horde rhythm, safety lies, escape logic, the price of vanity, the value of listening, the importance of getting out alive, and even the burden of carrying someone complaining. Tomorrow there won't be a minimap. Tomorrow there won't be a menu. Tomorrow there might not even be internet. But today, in the comfortable darkness of his home, Jesus finally found a guy who doesn't fall apart when the world gets ugly. And that, on an Earth where half is already gone, is worth more than many beautiful prayers thrown to the ceiling.
Jesus: Sleep peacefully while giving
Jesus: Because I just chose you without you even realizing it.
Jesus: And when I touch you, Thyatys… I won't touch you lightly.
Thyatys yawns, scratches the back of his neck, grabs another potato, and presses the start button.
— Thyatys: Let's go again, you bastards!
— Thyatys: I'm feeling inspired today
— Thyatys: bring on the next one!
Jesus looks one last time before leaving that invisible line of sight and says softly, almost humorously.
Jesus: It's really coming.
Jesus: And you're going to curse a lot more than you imagine.
And the night goes on, seemingly ordinary, which is precisely the kind of lie the end of the world most likes to tell.