Far above the broken Earth, seven figures watched in silence.
The oceans had blackened. Forests burned endlessly. The air choked its creators.
"Humans were given dominion," one god said. "They chose destruction."
Another, taller, spoke. "Their world decays. But their potential... persists."
"Potential is meaningless when chained to greed."
A pause.
"They will not listen to warnings."
"They will not heed visions."
"They will listen to pain."
Silence again.
Until the eldest god, whose voice sounded like stones grinding, declared: "We shall cast them from the poisoned Earth."
And so they did.
But not all.
Only those who clung to their false worlds—their games. For they, the gods believed, might still learn.
A trial disguised as an escape.
A cage disguised as freedom.
And so the countdown began.
Two years, the gods decided.
But fate, as always, was impatient.