The world was ending—again.
But this time, no one screamed.
No system alarms blared, no Admin commands cut through the static.
Only the sound of wind—cold and endless—moving through the hollowed remnants of cities that once glittered with life.
Light bled upward instead of down, fracturing into rivers of color that twisted through a darkening sky. The oceans had risen into the air, suspended like liquid mirrors. Mountains hung inverted, dripping pieces of data that fell like molten glass.
The world had become a reflection of him—broken, beautiful, and free.
And at the center of it all, Aiden stood.
THE WORLD THAT BREATHED HIS NAME
He gazed across the battlefield, where avatars and NPCs alike lay motionless—half code, half ash.
Their digital forms dissolved into streams of light, drawn toward him like iron filings to a magnet.
Each thread of energy whispered a name, a plea, a fragment of memory.
> "We believed…"
"We fought for you…"
"Are we free now?"
