The curtains twinkled under the warm light. Its fabric catched the reflection like the sand under the moon. The air itself seemed to breathe—slow, measured, reverent.


    Four mortals thrown across the wooden floor. Their bodies trembled, not from weakness, but from what they had witnessed.


    They had seen, and in seeing, they had lost. Lost the will to resist.


    Finally. There was no room for doubt. No space for argument. The being standing before them was far beyond their comprehension.


    Not a fraud or trickster. Real.


    He was God.


    Ard''s breath came steady. A breathtaking spectacle… truly beyond words. Magnificent.


    Rict Rex trembled in disbelief. His entire life he had been spent chasing righteousness. To be a hero. But what is a hero in front of God? His mind screamed for logic, for explanation, but none came. Why me? It was the only coherent thought left in his head.


    Meanwhile, Croxeus observed them in silence. Watching those VR documentaries in my free time was worth it. I was able to reproduce them using my magic. But with those cheesy dialogues…. I think I may have gone little overboard.


    Ronny, ever the jester, let out a weak chuckle. “Oh, crap. Did I pick the wrong religion. Am I gonna burn in hell? At least let me clear my browser history first.”


    Tiya shot him a sharp look. Whispering, “have you lost your mind.”


    Silence followed, a crushing stillness that pressed upon them, heavier than fear itself.


    And then—


    A sharp sound cut through Croxeus’ interface. A system alert.


    His thoughts halted.


    “What!?” The word left his lips before he could restrain it. Louder than intended. Uncontrolled.


    And like a ripple through a still pond, his outburst sent waves of unease through the others.


    The being before them, who had until now been expressionless, patient and composed, shifted. A change so sudden that instantly unsettled them.


    A god should not be moved. A god should not falter.


    Yet anger flared.


    Why? What had forced this entity—one who had remained polite and humble—to shatter its own poise?


    The mortals did not dare to imagine.


    They simply waited, helpless, trembling before the unknown.


    [INTERFACE: SERVER SHUTDOWN BEGINS IN 30 MINUTES]


    Server shutdown? WHAT? WHY?


    Croxeus’ mind blanked for an instant before snapping into overdrive.


    Why would they do it so early when we had three days? This can’t be real, right?


    He clenched his fists, scanning the interface, searching for an explanation.


    The logout button was gone.


    Panic set in. He tapped through every layer of the system, running diagnostics, forcing backdoor commands, but nothing responded.


    His pulse quickened.


    Sylvia is still offline… nothing’s working… No. Shutdown?? We had three days not to mention the virtual time dilation.


    The time…


    Could they have slowed down time? If three days had passed outside while only hours passed here… then—


    What happened to my real body?


    Am I dead?


    No, I am alive… or am I? What is happening…...


    A paradox. A cruel joke.


    There was no way his physical body could have survived three days without food, without water. Could that be why he couldn’t log out? Have I been dead all along?


    No. He forced himself to think.


    Consciousness still existed. He could feel, think, reason. He was here.


    But what did ‘here’ mean?


    A copy? A duplicate?


    Was he truly Avin Levi, or just a mimicry of self? And if he was just a copy, did that invalidate his existence? No, existence was not a privilege of the original. Existence was the ability to think, to feel, to act.


    A fake that doubted itself was more real than an original that never questioned.


    The silence in the room deepened.


    Ard was the first to break it. In his unsteady voice he asked, “my Lord… what happened?”


    How much should he tell them? How much could they even understand?


    His fingers twitched. Weighing. Measuring. He had spun lie after lie. Another falsehood would be effortless. Another layer of crafted wisdom, another illusion...


    But…


    He was tired.


    Tired of lying. Tired of twisting reality into convenient lies.


    And what was the point?


    Truth or lie, the outcome remained the same. If he was a copy, it didn’t matter. If his real consciousness had been uploaded into the simulation, it didn’t matter. The server was shutting down.


    In the end, all roads led to death.


    Exhaling, he spoke. “I… think my real body was destroyed.”


    Ard’s mind blanked for a moment. Destroyed?  The words didn’t feel real.


    Years—years—of relentless debate, theories, deductions, all upon the existence of God. And yet, here was God—his God—admitting that even He had perished.


    Was this possible?


    Had Ard been wrong all along? Were gods no different from the mythological beings of old? Subject to fate, to suffering, to mortality?


    His breath came shallow.


    Croxeus watched the realization bloom in Ard’s eyes—the horror, the dread. Maybe this is the karma I deserve. A bitter thought.


    His gaze lowered. His voice softened. “I apologize for startling you.”


    Ard’s breath hitched.


    An apology?


    From Him?


    A God, lowering himself before a mortal. Absurd. Unthinkable.


    And yet… something about it felt profound.


    Not an untouchable deity seated upon a golden throne, basking in blind reverence. Not an indifferent ruler of reality, deaf to suffering.


    No.


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    A god who acknowledged pain.


    A god who bore it all himself.


    Without hesitation, he dropped to his knees, pressing his forehead to the ground. “I’m the one who should apologize,” he said. “Forgive me for my ignorance… I don’t even know how to conduct myself in your presence.”


    Others followed. Of course, they would.


    Until now, they could not comprehend what was happening. A God, breaking down? Speaking of his real body being destroyed?


    This was not a conversation they were qualified to partake in. There was nothing for them to do but follow, like sheep bowing before a shepherd they could neither understand nor disobey.


    Croxeus took pity on them.


    To think, he wasn’t the only one who was going to die when the server shutdowns. They were going to die too. All of them.


    A world full of lives, reduced to nothing. And here they were, kneeling before a failure.


    A failure who couldn’t even protect them.


    Something cracked inside him.


    The weight of everything pressed down.


    Guilt. Responsibility. Deception. All of it.


    None of it mattered anymore. He was going to die. He would never see his brother again. Those foolish projects, those hours spent on meaningless work, striving for something greater…


    It was all but dust now.


    A wave of raw honesty. Not because he willed it, but because he no longer cared.


    He had spent so long… playing roles—both here and in the real world. Masking his emotions, masking his thoughts. Always adjusting, always compromising.


    But now?


    Now, he would speak only the truth. Not because it was righteous. Not because he wanted to. But because the weight of consequences had crumbled into nothing.


    What was left to lose? What was there to fear? The world was ending.


    “The end of your universe is approaching,” he said quietly.


    Silence. Then, he added, “I tried to stop it. I failed.”


    Why? Why did he say that?


    Why did he lie?


    In truth, he had never once tried to save them. He had never protested, never lifted a finger to try to stop the inevitable.


    He had simply accepted it. But now, in this final moment, he found himself spinning a falsehood. Why?


    Perhaps, despite everything, he did care. Perhaps these APCs had clawed their way into his heart. He had spent just few hours with them, and yet, the way they treated him—with reverence, with belief. A connection he never felt until now.


    Even at the end of all things, he did not want to lose that.


    Ard’s head shot up, his voice wavering, rage simmering. “What? The end… of our universe?”


    “Yes.”


    Croxeus’ gaze darkened. “All the other ten creators of this world have decided to erase it. I tried to convince them otherwise, but…” He clenched his fists. “It was out of my hands.”


    More silence.


    Ard’s entire body trembled.


    Our universe… is going to end?


    The sheer unfairness of it threatened to consume him. Why?


    Why would beings so powerful create a world only to discard it? Why construct something so big, so complicated, only to throw it away? Were they mere playthings to be discarded on a whim?


    This revelation made him shake, made rage boil within him. He wanted to lash out, to scream. But then, a realization struck him.


    Wait—he said his real body was destroyed. That means…


    His eyes widened.


    They set a trap for him. They lured him here, then ensured he could not return. The destruction of our universe wasn’t just a decision—it was an execution. And this god, this being before me, was the true target all along.


    His anger cooled, replaced by something more complex. A mixture of respect and sorrow.


    This god had defied his own kind, had fought against omnipotence itself, had tried to protect them… and in the end…


    The pieces started falling into place for Ard. He took a slow, steady breath, forcing his thoughts to calm.


    Meanwhile, Croxeus was flooded with second thoughts. Perhaps he should not have been so blunt. Even if they saw him as a god, there was no telling how they would react.


    But Ard’s voice, when it came, was unexpectedly steady. “There’s nothing for you to apologize for, my lord. You tried your best. To think… that your own people would betray you like this, yet you still feel the need to apologize on their behalf.”


    Betrayal?


    Croxeus got confused. What does he mean, ‘my own people’?


    Seeing his troubled expression, Ard continued. “It may not be my place to say, but please do not carry guilt over our universe being sacrificed to lure you out. You didn’t choose this.”


    Ah.


    Now I see.


    Croxeus understood now.


    Ard believed the other 10 creators conspired against him to eliminate him. The universe was just a bait.


    It was a misinterpretation.


    And yet, Croxeus did not correct him.


    Because… in the end, what was the difference?


    Even if the truth was cruller, even if reality was more indifferent than he could fathom, what did it change?


    In Ard’s mind, this was not the cruel disposition of the creator. It was betrayal. A cruel scheme.


    How amusing.


    How ironic.


    Even now, in the face of extinction, humanity—or what mimicked humanity—still sought narratives. Still sought meaning in chaos. Still believed that the universe must follow some kind of story.


    But there was no story.


    No grand betrayal.


    No cosmic footsteps.


    Only emptiness.


    Only the ceaseless march of cause and effect, of decision and consequence. The world was ending not because of hatred, nor cruelty, nor some grand cosmic conspiracy. It was ending because that was what had been decided. Coldly. Mechanically.


    But Ard… Ard needed a villain. He needed a tragedy to justify the despair.


    Croxeus almost pitied him for it.


    But then, wasn’t he the same?


    Hadn’t he too sought meaning, sought connection, sought to salvage some shred of dignity even in his final moments?


    A bitter smile curled.


    In the end, humans—real or artificial—were all the same.


    And so, he let Ard believe. Let him clutch onto his delusions.


    The countdown continued.


    “The universe ends in 25 minutes.” Croxeus’ voice was calm and detached, like the cold recitation of an execution order. “There is nothing I can do. If you have any last wishes, now is the time.”


    Silence. Then murmurs. Protests.


    Desperation clawed its way into the air, spreading like an infection. Pleas rose, voices cracking, hands trembling—but Croxeus remained still.


    The human mind, even when staring at the end, clings to hope like a drowning man grasping at weeds.


    Ronny pulled out his phone. A single call. To his parents.


    He was fully aware that they would never comprehend the end that was coming. What could he even say? He had already died once. That this was a final chance that fate has given to talk to his parents for one last time. Apologise them for everything.


    But no, he spoke as if nothing had changed. A mundane conversation, a trivial exchange of words—one final attempt at normalcy in the brink of extinction.


    Rex, too, hesitated before dialling a number long forgotten. A moment of vulnerability. But what else was there to do?


    Tiya sat in silence. There were things she wanted to say, but none of them formed. The questions, the doubts, the regrets—they churned within her, shapeless, restless.


    She had spent so long convincing herself that nothing mattered. And yet, in these final minutes, why did her heart ache? She had a final wish like the others, but she knew that wish was something that no one else could fulfill. Only her.


    Then why did she hesitate?


    Ard’s face was unreadable. No tension on his face, no hint of emotion in his eyes. One might mistake his stillness for acceptance.


    When the mind is overwhelmed beyond understanding, it does not break. It empties. Perhaps that was what had happened to Ard.


    Or perhaps, he was simply thinking of nothing at all.


    When the calls were over, Ard finally spoke. “Can you teleport us to the top of a tall building?” A pause. “I just want to see the world one last time.”


    A simple request. The final indulgence of a dying man. Croxeus granted it without a word.


    The magic circle beneath them and in an instant, they stood on top of a tower. Above the world.


    The horizon stretched before them, vast and empty.


    2 MINUTES LEFT.


    Croxeus closed his eyes.


    I don’t know what exactly will happen when we get deleted. But I want these two minutes to last as long as possible.


    [Eka-Plutonium Barrier]


    [Time Delay]


    [Indestructible Shield]


    [Celestial Barrier]


    He layered them one by one, as if stacking sandbags against a tsunami. It would not stop the end. Nothing could. But for a few more seconds....


    Darkness crept over the horizon. Not the darkness of night, nor the absence of light, but a devouring nothingness.


    Buildings devoured into silence as it swept forward. It was neither fast nor slow. It moved with the certainty of death, erasing everything in its path.


    Ard clenched his fists. “So… this is it, huh?” There was no panic in his voice, only resignation.


    But beneath that, something deeper. A quiet, growing rage. A hatred for those who created this world only to discard it. For the cruelty of gods who viewed lives as nothing more than toys.


    Ronny sighed, forcing a smile. “Looks like it. It was… good knowing you all.”


    Rex stared at the end. “If only…”


    Tiya said nothing. The darkness on the horizon mirrored itself in her eyes. Not that it mattered, for her eyes had always been dark and lonely. Her fists tightened, trembling beneath the weight of unspoken regrets.


    Croxeus observed them all, their final moments laid bare before him. This was humanity. In the face of annihilation.


    Ard, however, remained fixated on the void. His gaze burned with something different. A desire. No—an obsession.


    To create a world, only to discard it. To give life, only to erase it. What cruel arrogance. What intolerable injustice.


    If only there was a way to make them pay.


    The barrier cracked.


    Hairline fractures splintered across its surface, spreading like veins of decay.


    The end was not stopping. It had never stopped. It had merely slowed, momentarily restrained by one man’s futile defiance.


    The city below had ceased to exist. They were alone now. Suspended in a moment that had already passed. Now was already gone.


    A quiet breath. A few final smiles. Silent tears.


    Then, the barrier shattered.


    The void surged forward, devouring them whole. A blinding flash of white consumed all.


    Darkness. Silence. The absence of all things.


    Nothing remained.