The world was coming apart, piece by piece.
The darkness had turned liquid, twisting in on itself like oil on fire. Shreds of light—entire timelines—drifted apart in lazy spirals, fading into pale mist. Each one that disappeared left behind a quiet that wasn't quiet at all. Just… emptiness.
Adam stood on the last solid ground left, breathing steady but shallow. Ahead, the being called Choice hung above the shattered forge, light leaking from cracks in its form. Its wings weren't just patterns anymore—they were doorways, each one opening to a different world, a different life, closing just as fast. Mortals, gods, civilizations—flashing and dying in seconds.
Adam didn't need a system prompt to know what was happening. Choice wasn't attacking. It was letting go. Unmaking order, one thread at a time.
Veylor materialized beside him, golden energy still flickering along his arm. The calm pride he'd carried earlier was gone. He sounded tired.
"It's doing what I built it to do."
