Everything that exists has a cause. If this chain is infinite, then life itself is an unbroken chain of causality without any inherent meaning. But if there is a first cause, then the question arises—why do we exist?


    The first cause that would be uncaused, should contain the reason for all existence. If this cause is a creator, then their reason for creating must be the basis of meaning itself.


    Ard''s question wasn’t new. For centuries, humanity had debated, fought, and even killed over the same question.


    Why do we exist?


    Do we serve some grand purpose or are we just toys, scattered like chesspiece on the board of an indifferent god?


    Avin had only wanted to escape this mess without any further responsibility. But this question struck him cold. He was responsible too. He had helped design this world. He should have the answer, shouldn’t he?


    Why had he joined the project? Was it his fascination with simulations, the hunger to create? Blinded by ambition, he had ignored the APCs. And now, he pretended to grieve for them. Hypocrisy.


    From the beginning, he had known—sooner or later, Quasintial would shut it down. The truth was always in front of him, still he had ignored it.


    Why? Why had he been so eager to work on this project? He recalled what the original motive of the project really was.


    “You were created because we wanted to understand ourselves better. You are, in a sense, extensions of us and by learning about you, we learn about ourselves.’


    To understand them better? Ard thought


    Does this make us partners in the search of understanding?


    Ard’s world was shaken up from this reply. Was this truly the relationship between creator and creation?


    This was not the usual hierarchy of gods and mortals.


    Not the simple will of an author dictating a script.


    They weren’t mere subjects or servants. They were the reflection of God’s themselves. Fully aware and responsible for their own actions with free will.


    This changed his whole understanding of the world.


    Meanwhile, Avin who was uneasy at having revealed so much decided to prevent any further complications. The best thing he could do in the meantime was to keep him spreading word of their encounter.


    Containment was key. He needed to manage the narrative, warp it if necessary.


    Even if it was just a bunch of misinformation, but he couldn’t let APCs destabilize the server. He would see this through, no matter what. Until someone pulled him out of the real world, he had to make sure no one else got involved.


    Avin was deep in thought when a shadowy figure approached from behind. Footsteps—unsteady, hesitant. Ard barely noticed, lost in his own contemplation.


    The figure stumbled closer. Tiya.


    She placed a hand on Ard’s shoulder. “Ard.”


    Her voice was unsteady. Ard finally turned his head. Avin followed suit.


    Avin’s muscles tensed, but his face remained unreadable—expressions smooth. Yet, beneath the surface, something had shifted.


    He had not accounted for this.


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    People cling to gods and religions because reality is unbearable to them. But faith is not proof. Hope is not truth. If Gods exist, then where are they?


    If pain is decreed, then mercy is ceased. If suffering is left with silence to follow, then what remains is a hollow. A hollow that cannot be seen, touched or proven does not exists. That is what I believe.


    But now—


    I don’t know if my eyes deceive me,


    if my mind bends or breaks,


    if I am clinging to reason or running from it…


    He stands before me, long white hair and those golden eyes…


    What are they hiding?


    Mercy? Pain? Agony? I could not tell.


    I should deny him. I should tear him down with my reasons.


    But in this night, in this silence, I am the one who feels unreal.


    Is this the afterlife?


    Ard is kneeling in front of him as if before a God. And that being is looking at him as if he is weighing Ard’s worth, faith and fate. Will he judge us? Measure our sins, our deeds, our regrets? Perhaps that''s all I have left now… I don’t know what comes next.


    I only know that I want to see Ard’s face one last time.


    Tiya sat beneath the tree’s shade, covered in the silver glow of the moonlight filtering through the branches. With effort, she pushed herself up. The ground beneath her felt unstable maybe because it was her who was unsteady.


    Each step towards Ard proved to be a challenge. Her breath was slow, body felt heavy but still she forced herself forward.


    Staggering, she reached him.


    Ard was kneeling, still, like he was bound to the ground by an authority. His body was fixed, his expression unreadable. Was he lost deep in thought? Or had something gripped him so completely that he could no longer move?


    She placed her trembling hand on his shoulder. Solid. Real. That alone brought her a sliver of comfort.


    “Ard.” She said in an unsteady voice.


    Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    Slowly, he turned. His gaze met hers—deep, solemn. It was the first time she saw Ard like this. He was usually calm and collected but right now, there it was like those eyes were lost, seeing right through her.


    “Tiya,” he whispered.


    Her eyes quickly scanned him. His face was there.


    No wounds, no signs of harm. He was fine.


    She swallowed, forcing herself to focus. Her voice was steadier this time. “Ard… where are we? And who is that?”


    Her gaze shifted beyond him, to the figure standing ahead.


    Ard exhaled slowly. His expression, still unreadable. “That, Tiya… is God.”


    God? She looked at Ard in denial.


    He gave her the slightest nod—confirmation, cold and absolute.


    She turned back to the figure.


    God…?


    Her mind went blank.


    All those countless arguments and propositions just to disprove of that being’s presence and now he was standing in front of her.


    The God. The one responsible for everything standing in front of her


    Real. Present. Unfazed.


    But then—her mind flicked a switch. Fear, awe, disbelief—none of it mattered. Understanding was what mattered. The impossible presence in front of her—what were the variables? What were the rules? If this being was truly God, then there had to be a reason.


    She cleared her thoughts.


    She took hold of herself first—her body ached, her legs still weak. Movement was difficult, just as it had been moments ago. That meant she was still herself, still bound by the same physical limitations. She was alive. Not some soul. Her gaze shifted to Ard. He had not answered when she asked where they were. Which meant he didn’t know either.


    Her eyes moved to their surroundings. The ground, the air, the pull of gravity—it all felt familiar. Nothing unnatural, so it had to be Earth.


    And yet—her calculations failed the moment they reached him.


    Did he save us? She thought. If so, then why? Does God even need a reason to do anything?


    Avin observed their reactions in silence.


    Even though he didn’t want more APCs to get involved, he had forgotten about the girl. She stood before him now, a new complication. And soon, the other two would also regain consciousness, adding further instability to an already precarious situation.


    More eyes. More minds. More risks.


    He couldn’t afford for them to spread word of this encounter. At least not until he was out of this simulation and could do something about it. If the wrong information leaked, if the APCs began questioning their reality en masse, the server itself could destabilize. He needed control. And to maintain control, he had to dictate the narrative.


    That meant one thing.


    He had to play the part. He had to be a God.


    His expression shifted. Authority, divinity, infinity, a second skin.


    When he spoke, his voice was calm, deliberate. “Ah, so your friend has also returned to the land of the living. Tell me, child, are you well?”


    Tiya hesitated. There was something unnervingly genuine about his concern, something that caught her off guard. “Yes, man—God… I mean, God,” she said, quickly kneeling beside Ard.


    Avin gave a faint smile. “Uh—no need to be so formal with me. So, my children, may I ask for your names?”


    Tiya’s mind spun. Names? He doesn’t know them? That doesn’t make sense. If he is an all-knowing God, shouldn’t he know? Is he pretending?


    Before she could dwell on it, Ard spoke with unwavering devotion.


    “I am Ard Barfi, my Lord.”


    “And I am Tiya Bakhlovia,” she followed.


    “Excellent.” Avin nodded thoughtfully, as if weighing their very existence. “Now, may I ask both of you to keep everything that happened here… a secret?”


    Ard’s eyes shone with reverence. “I would do anything for you, my Lord.”


    “That will suffice.” Avin’s gaze moved towards the unconscious bodies nearby. They were still breathing, but soon, they too would awaken. Another loose end.


    “Now, as for these two… Is there any place I can move them?”


    “Lord, if it is not much trouble,” Ard said, “I live nearby. We could take them in until they regain consciousness.”


    Avin paused, considering. Keeping them close meant keeping them under watch. It would also allow him to study their behaviour and act accordingly.


    This way I could keep an eye on them, he thought.


    “That is an excellent idea, Ard,” Avin agreed with a nod.


    Tiya’s gaze shifted toward the bodies. Those two… were they in the car in front of us, before the accident?


    Avin turned to Ard. “Come closer. Think of your home. I will transport us there.”


    Think of my home? Thought Ard before visualising his living room.


    It was one of his spells [Chittrace] which was designed to pull only simple thoughts—locations, fleeting images from the people in the 1 metre radius.


    With the information secured, he activated [Void Passage], his transportation spell.


    A crimson circle of glowing symbols formed beneath them pulsing with enormous energy. Then in a flash of crimson light, they were gone.


    Within a second, they had reached their destination.


    Ard’s living room—the location Avin had extracted from his thoughts. The space was lavishly furnished with luxurious furniture.


    My living room….. Ard moved without hesitation, turning the lights on. Then, he turned and knelt before Avin.


    His submission was immediate.


    Looking at the lying bodies he said, “may I carry them to a room, my Lord?”


    Avin observed. It was rare for him to see homes designed in this archaic 2014-era architecture. This place brought a different vibe compared to modernistic and minimalistic architecture of the future.


    He nodded. “Yes.”


    As soon as Ard got permission, he approached the unconscious bodies. Tiya also silently assisted him.


    This guy though, he reminds me of my brother. He is smart, handsome and successful. Like look at his house, it''s so big. Houses in the real world are nowhere as big as this.


    Avin was right—back in the real world, houses were pitifully small. Despite a drastically reduced population, the damaged ecosystem forced humanity into self-sustaining and compact cities. In many ways, these APCs led better lives than humans did. Even in knowledge.


    Knowledge in the real-world was restricted. Controlled. The masses were fed only the bare minimum. Just enough to function, never enough to question. Specialization was enforced early, a leash disguised as opportunity. A child picked a path, and that path defined them.


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    Inside the dimly lit room, silence danced. Tiya and Ard had finished shifting the bodies. Unnatural silence. Oppressively still air.


    “Ard… is that person… really God?”


    A pointless question. She sought assurance, not an answer.


    Ard’s reply came without hesitation. “Yes, so it seems.”


    Tiya clenched her fists. “…Did he say why he saved us?”


    “No. I did not ask.”


    Her frustration was evident. “I can’t believe it. Are we sure he’s really God? Could he be… some other being? An angel or—a”


    “It doesn’t change anything, Tiya,” Ard cut in. “Even if he were an angel, that would ultimately confirm the existence of God. I have known you for a long time, I understand your belief in logic and reasoning. But reason alone is powerless in front of truth. Facts cannot be debated—they simply are. I’ve spoken to him, observed him. He is God. A real God.”


    Tiya fell silent. She wanted to resist, to rationalize—but how could she?


    “…Why?” She finally broke the silence. “Why did he save us? Why did he let us see him? He could have erased our memories. Maybe he still will.”


    “That is possible.” Ard replied calmly. “But we can ask him. I believe he will answer.”


    A pause. Then, a shift.


    “Should we just leave them here and go?”


    “Yes. We can ask the Lord what to do with them when they wake up.”


    Tiya found herself staring at one of those bodies. “That man—the one in the black suit and mask. Doesn’t he remind you of someone?”


    Ard nodded. “Yes… the infamous vigilante. I forgot what his name was”


    “Rict Rex, I think,” replied Tiya.


    “Right.”


    Tiya exhaled, shaking her head. “But still… he’s nothing compared to what we’ve seen today. What was he even doing here?”