The man in white stormed down the pristine, endless hallway, his sandaled feet barely making a sound against the marble floors. His expression was carved from stone—unyielding, fierce. His very presence defied reason. Every time someone laid eyes upon him, his form flickered—his skin shifting shades, his features twisting between masculine and feminine, between every race and none at all. Yet, here, within these sacred halls, he was simply a man in white robes, striding with purpose that seemed to shake the very foundation of the structure.

  Ahead, a pair of towering, gold-etched doors loomed, massive and imposing. But they did not hinder him. Without a touch, they detonated outward, smashing against the walls with such force that fractures splintered through the marble like spiderwebs. Inside, figures with towering, majestic wings—each spanning nearly fourteen feet—leapt into the air in startled reflex, their gleaming feathers rustling in the sudden gust. Then, as recognition dawned, they dropped to their knees, heads bowed in reverence.

  The air grew heavy.

  "REPORT!" The word was a thunderclap, rattling the walls and making the very air vibrate. His voice alone threatened to reduce the chamber to rubble, a barely restrained fury laced within each syllable. He had not directed his command at anyone in particular, but someone—anyone—needed to respond before his wrath found an unintended target.

  A frail figure bolted forward, a thin, trembling man gripping a glass-like device so tightly his knuckles had gone white. "M-My Lord!" he stammered, his voice barely a whisper beneath the oppressive weight of divine fury. "H-here is the requested report!" He thrust the device forward before scampering back into the crowd, as if fearing that lingering too long in the Lord’s presence might shatter him.

  The Lord snatched the device without a glance at the cowering masses and strode toward another set of doors. This time, they opened swiftly—intentionally—to avoid further destruction. Once inside, he crossed the opulent chamber and sank into an immense, throne-like chair behind a desk of polished marble, its veins of gold glowing faintly under his touch. He slammed the device onto the desk, and instantly, it melted into the surface, spilling forth streams of data that flickered and danced in the air.

  His fingers moved in sharp, rapid motions, absorbing the information in seconds. Then, suddenly, he sagged back into his seat. A shadow passed over his face, his fingers tightening into fists before he waved the data away with an irritated flick.

  His eyes slid shut.

  "Damn…" The word escaped him in a near-growl, low and seething. "How could this have happened? Why now? No signs… no warnings…" His voice trailed into an ominous silence.

  Then, his fingers hovered over the desk.

  A phone materialized.

  It was old—out of place amidst the celestial technology—a relic of an age long past. An unassuming rotary dial adorned with symbols unfamiliar to any mortal mind. His fingers hesitated for only a second before pressing one: a formation of twelve stars, glowing faintly.

  It rang.

  Once.

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  Twice.

  A distorted voice slithered through the receiver. "Yes? Can I help you?"

  The Lord leaned forward, his fingers tapping against the desk, leaving fine cracks in their wake. "Why is IT here?" His voice was deceptively calm, but the undercurrent of fury was unmistakable.

  The voice on the other end chuckled, feigning ignorance. "Oh… Are you referring to the Waves?"

  The cracks beneath his fingers deepened.

  "YES," he snarled.

  The force of his rage shook the chamber. The marble beneath his hand splintered in two, a violent tremor reverberating through the walls. In the outer chamber, the angelic beings flinched, wings folding tightly against their backs. High above, the very ceiling trembled, cracks spidering outward as dust cascaded down like fallen stars.

  The voice remained unmoved. "Oh…" A pause. "Well, there has been a change of plans. The other gods have decided your creations are no longer necessary. They will be purged to prevent further… contamination."

  Silence.

  The Lord’s body went rigid.

  The being on the other end continued, its tone infuriatingly casual. "Your creations have no place in this reality. They only bring destruction. The decision is final."

  A longer silence.

  The being sitting at the marble desk was no mere ruler, no simple deity. He was God. The God of Earth. The being known by infinite names, worshiped in infinite forms. He had split himself into countless guises, guiding his people in different ways, strengthening them through adversity, shaping them for the grand design—Kul'Tekca. The ultimate purpose.

  Now, that purpose would never be realized.

  His fingers twitched over the desk. His next words—softer, measured—held a rare note of something almost foreign to him.

  "Is there any way to refuse?"

  A heartbeat. Then another.

  "No."

  The line went dead.

  The symbol of twelve stars faded, and with it, an eerie silence fell upon the room.

  For a long moment, he remained still.

  Then, slowly, deliberately, he rose. His robes billowed slightly with the movement, charged with unseen energy. Without a word, he walked through the doors and into the chamber beyond.

  The angels stiffened.

  His gaze lifted to the massive screen that towered over the room.

  A single planet filled its surface.

  His planet.

  His only world.

  Unlike the other gods, who sprawled their influence across countless civilizations, he had devoted himself to a single world, pouring every ounce of his divinity into it. Protecting it. Guiding it. Shielding it from the chaotic energies that drowned the rest of the universe.

  Now, it was sentenced to die.

  A slow exhale. His rage burned cold now, sharpening into something lethal.

  "Marious," he called, his voice a blade.

  A figure stepped forward.

  Marious—his first, his strongest. Six wings of blinding purity stretched from his back. Two golden halos spun in opposite directions above his head, radiating celestial light. Power rippled from his very being. If he so desired, he could collapse the supermassive black hole at the heart of the galaxy with but a thought.

  He knelt. "My Lord."

  The Lord did not look at him. His eyes were locked on the world before him.

  "They have sent a Wave," he stated, his voice devoid of emotion. "Can you stop it?"

  A rare thing happened then.

  Marious hesitated.

  His golden eyes brimmed with unshed tears. "I… I can delay it," he admitted, voice heavy with sorrow. "But not forever. Not with the power you have given me."

  Failure.

  A first.

  The Lord’s fingers clenched. His gaze flicked to the screen, pulling away from Earth, zooming out beyond the solar system.

  There it was.

  Racing across the cosmos.

  A tide of annihilation.

  A timer materialized at the top of the screen.

  32 days. 7 hours. 32 minutes.

  He watched.

  Far beyond, Alpha Centauri’s system was shredded, its stars ripped apart as if by an unseen blade. Soon, his own system would follow. The humans would not even realize what was coming until Saturn was obliterated—by then, they would have barely an hour to comprehend their doom.

  His jaw tightened.

  They hadn’t even been given a chance to surrender. No warning. No envoy.

  Just a decree.

  Burn.

  He exhaled slowly.

  No.

  They would learn.

  They would learn what it meant to take from him.

  As the humans say…

  Fuck around and find out.