Evilness, the all-consuming power that holds sway over life and death.

"If heaven does not exist, create it; reclaim everything, even what you thought was lost." -NJHP.

As I climb the weathered steps of the Latin American Tower, once an iconic marvel in its prime but now a forgotten relic of a world past, my mind drifts through layers of memories and regrets. The building, with its cold, creaking metal and dilapidated walls, stands in stark contrast to the towering monuments of vanity that surround it, symbols of humanity's final desperate attempts to cling to relevance. The weight of what I am about to do feels crushing, yet inevitable, a storm long brewing.

I remember as a child, hearing the whispers of judgment day. They spoke of dragons with seven heads and beasts that would tear the earth apart, unleashing terror and chaos, but ultimately heralding salvation. Those chosen would ascend to a kingdom of eternal splendor, free from sorrow, pain, and fear, where good would triumph over evil forever. I was never chosen.

What I am about to do won’t be stopped by divine hands or prophecies etched in stone. I know this. I know that this path is born of my own rage, not righteousness. The weight of this decision presses on me, yet I can't deny it any longer. The anger consumes me, fills every part of me until all I want is to wipe it all away, to start over, to reclaim what was stolen from me. And now, finally, I have the time. The time I always lacked.

I pause at external stairs, gazing down at the ruined city below. That’s why I chose this tower—a place that has no meaning for anyone anymore, except perhaps for a couple of madmen who still seek salvation where there is none. This place was once my home, though now it feels like a distant memory, a shadow that I can barely hold onto.

A voice, soft and familiar, pulls me from my thoughts. It rides on the wind, seeping through the cracked walls of the tower, stirring echoes of a time long gone. Carilora, my summoned succubus, walks behind me. There’s sadness in her tone as she clings to me, her voice almost a whisper.

“Why this place?” she asks, her breath warm against my neck. “And why did you say today would be our last day together?”

Her question lingers in the air like smoke, and I turn to face her, my gaze meeting hers. Her eyes, once fiery and defiant, now shimmer with a hint of sorrow. The wind tussles her dark hair as she looks up at me, waiting for an answer.

"As I told you before," I begin, my voice steady, though heavy with the weight of years, "I grew up here. Long ago. I lived and breathed in this place. And for that, I am grateful. Here, I found friendship, love, and camaraderie. People who knew nothing of me, yet welcomed me. It was a different time... People were good, happy, even though evil always existed. But back then, we had the will to do good without asking why or for whom. That was before the resource crisis and the storms of change.”

I pause, glancing over the horizon. The city sprawls out before me, an ocean of steel and decay. "I was born here," I continue, my tone darkening. "And here, I lost more than I could ever recover. Not through anyone’s fault, but because of life itself. The chance to reclaim what I had... was stolen from me. And for that, I can never forgive."

Her soft voice cuts through my thoughts. “You’ve never told me what happened to you here… not fully.”

I look away from her, the memories clawing at my mind. "People didn’t know much then, about the agenda that would later doom them. Most believed in the promises of a better future, a future built on the bones of the unwanted. Those who couldn’t contribute were deemed unnecessary, replaced by machines, artificial minds... They thought it would save them, thought it would preserve their way of life. But they were wrong. Starvation, oblivion, slow decline—it all followed. The powerful saved themselves, but it only worsened the inevitable."

The weight of my words hangs between us as I take a step forward, my hands resting on the railing of the tower’s rooftop.

“As for why this is our last time together,” I say, my voice quiet, “I don’t know what will happen after this. All I know is that forces far beyond us—forces we once thought were only myths—may soon intervene. If what was foretold is true, they might judge me. They might come for me. And I don’t know if I’m strong enough to face them.”

I turn to her, my eyes lingering on her face, the face of the child she once was, now transformed into a woman. “You’re no longer that little girl I summoned so long ago, Carilora. You’ve grown stronger, wiser. When you return to hell, you’ll need to use everything I’ve taught you. If I can’t bring you back… then maybe this is goodbye.”

Carilora’s eyes narrow as she stares out at the cityscape, the wind whipping her hair around her face. She’s beautiful, even in this moment of sorrow. Her voice, though still soft, carries a weight that surprises me.

“It’s true,” she says, her gaze fixed on the horizon, “there are things that cannot be changed or undone. And that’s why the world is as it is now. But we’ve faced dangers before, haven’t we? We’ve fought through more than most. I don’t know how powerful these beings are, but we’ve never let anything stand in our way.”

She turns to me, her eyes piercing mine. “The only thing that’s left for us to hold onto is what we’ve shared—our time together, and what you’ve made me into.”

I look at her, taking in the sight of her standing there, defiant against the wind. For a moment, I remember every time she stood by my side, through fire, blood, and darkness. She’s the last link I have to this world, and perhaps, my only hope for something resembling happiness.

I speak, my voice barely above a whisper. "You're right. We’ve fought everything in our way. But I wonder... will that be enough?"

And in the silence that follows, with the city spread out beneath us and the end drawing near, we both know that the answer to that question will come sooner than either of us would like.

 

As I stand on the edge of the crumbling rooftop, my mind heavy with thoughts of the uncertain future, I can’t help but reflect on everything Carilora has become to me. She’s more than the frightened girl I summoned from the void so long ago. She’s grown alongside me, shaped by the knowledge I’ve passed on, and the bond we’ve forged over years of shared trials and hardship. She’s no longer just a summoned creature, bound by duty or ancient rites, but something far more. She’s my partner, my equal.

I remember how it all began—how my initial goal was simply to verify the existence of the beings beyond the veil, to understand the forces that had torn my world apart. When I first invoked the rite, I expected answers, perhaps a revelation. What I got instead was something straight out of an erotic tale, a young succubus whose body was that of a woman, but whose eyes were filled with fear and confusion. She wasn’t the seductress the legends had painted her to be; she was vulnerable, almost childlike in her distress.

Her presence in my life wasn’t something I had planned for. I couldn’t bring myself to send her back, not after hearing the stories of her life before our meeting. The thought of her being thrown into that hellish existence again—a mere tool for others to exploit—was unbearable. So, I made my choice. I mastered the ritual that linked her world to mine, and over time, she stayed. She grew. She smiled for the first time, and with that smile, she shattered the walls I had built around my own heart. Eventually, she chose me, not because she had to, but because she wanted to. That freedom, I realized, was something her kind rarely experienced.

This past month, she has been feeling sad and depressed. I was the first being she encountered in this world, but in her world, she is viewed as an animal that others can exploit at their convenience, even to the extent of sacrificing her. Her breed is known in the world as seducers and procreators of demons; for humans, that is what they are. However, within their own race, they are beings with little power and strength. In part, Dante was not wrong; seducers are among the first on the ladder to hell, so this strange relationship I have forged with her is all she has. She has been living with me for years now and grew up beside me. Her destiny should have been forced to have sexual encounters with strangers and creatures to satisfy their pleasures and keep the number of demons at bay. To a strong and determined woman, with a smile that partially dissolves my pain and evokes a sense of guilt.

She exhibited a display of emotion that was unusual for her cultural norms, shedding tears despite the prohibition within her community. This marked a significant departure from her demeanor when we first encountered each other; back then, she remained composed even in moments of fear and distress. The expression of vulnerability was viewed as a transgression in her society. Eventually, she acquiesced, showing great sorrow, and agreed to accompany me to this place. While I have outlined the potential risks to her, I acknowledge her reservations. We have been living together for several years now

These last few months, though, I’ve seen the sadness weigh on her. She’s not just a succubus in a human’s world—she’s an outsider, a creature viewed as a tool, an object for men to use. In her world, she’s no better. Her kind is seen as low, weak, meant only to serve or breed more demons. In some twisted way, Dante was right about that; succubi are on the lowest rungs of hell’s hierarchy. Yet, in all the time we’ve been together, I’ve seen her defy that fate. She has become so much more than anyone expected, even her own kind.

But now, that sadness in her eyes grows stronger. She understands, perhaps better than anyone, what lies ahead. She’s not the girl she once was—she’s stronger, fiercer—but the world she comes from, the world she must eventually return to, is not kind to beings like her. Her future there is bleak, a life of forced encounters with demons and strangers, her body used for others' pleasures and ambitions. Despite all her strength, despite everything I’ve taught her, that fate still looms over her like a dark shadow. Yet even now, she stands beside me, her determination unshaken, her resolve unwavering.

She turns to me, her face betraying emotions she once would have hidden. In her world, vulnerability is forbidden, tears a sign of weakness. But now, she lets them fall, each one a silent testament to the journey we’ve shared. When we first met, even in moments of fear, she would never have let me see her cry. Now, she no longer hides that part of herself.

Carilora speaks softly, her voice breaking the silence. “No matter how much time passes, I will find you. I’ll survive, and I’ll return here.”

Her words, filled with quiet determination, send a strange warmth through me. I take a step closer, reaching out to take her delicate hand in mine. Her touch is soft, yet there’s a strength in it that wasn’t there before. “My feelings for you are strong,” I tell her, my voice low, “but the time has come for us to honor the promises we made.”

Her eyes lock with mine, and for a moment, the world around us seems to fade away. The wind howls, but it feels distant, unimportant. All that matters now is the connection between us, the shared understanding that this may be our last moment together. Her determination is palpable, as though she’s already begun forging her path back to me, even before we’ve parted.

“I will wait for you,” she whispers, her voice like the wind itself. “No matter how many years pass, I’ll find my way back to you.”

I tighten my grip on her hand, feeling the weight of everything unsaid between us. “The knowledge of the summoning ritual now rests with you,” I say, my words measured. “What you do with it—whether for good or ill—that’s up to you. I don’t know if you’ll find the materials needed to open a portal on the other side. If it were that easy, we would have found it long ago. Perhaps this whole venture was a mistake… but I won’t stand by idly. I’m prepared to delve into the depths, to reclaim everything that was taken from me. And if we meet again, I hope it’s under better circumstances.”

Carilora smiles, though there’s a sadness in her eyes. “We’re more than partners in crime, AIDO,” she says softly. “We’re bound together, souls intertwined by a single purpose.”

Her words strike a chord in me. Can a succubus truly love? I don’t know, but what we’ve built together is far more than a simple pact or a means to an end. What started as dependence has grown into a partnership, a bond of mutual respect and shared dreams. I trust her now with things I’ve never trusted anyone with. My hopes, my fears… even my heart. I can only hope that whatever happens next, that bond remains unbroken.

“I’ve thought about building a family with you,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. “Maybe it’s a way to heal from the losses I’ve endured. Maybe it’s selfish. But I’m willing to give everything to create a future where we can be together. A world where I can recover what was taken from me… and maybe, just maybe, find some happiness in the process.”

She looks up at me, her eyes shimmering with an emotion I can’t quite name. “Then we’ll build that world together,” she says simply.

And in that moment, standing on the edge of everything I’ve ever known, I allow myself to believe her.

I recognized the moment had arrived, and I moved toward Carilora’s fragile form, now matured beyond the innocent figure I had once summoned. Her once childlike body had transformed, no longer the image of a young girl but a woman standing on the cusp of her twenties. There was a vulnerability to her now, not in the sense of weakness, but in the knowledge of the hell she called home. It tugged at me, making my inevitable departure even more difficult.

I stepped closer, gently brushing my lips against her forehead before lowering them to her trembling mouth. She closed her eyes, a soft sigh escaping her as she wrapped her arms around me, holding on like she feared I might vanish before her. Her warmth enveloped me, a fleeting solace in the face of what was to come. Our connection—beyond mere romantic affection—had turned into a force capable of reshaping realities, of tearing them asunder. I had cultivated that bond, nurtured it, not only for the comfort it brought me but for the raw power it held. It had been useful, and it would be again, but there was more to it now.

Still, if the one who taught me the secrets of the portal—the one I could neither fully trust nor dismiss—was right, then following his guidance might increase her chances of survival in the inferno she was destined to return to.

Carilora looked at me, eyes alight with an intensity that burned through the tears staining her cheeks. Her gaze held a silent promise, unyielding despite the ache of our impending separation. Slowly, painfully, she began to fade, her figure becoming transparent, her warmth dissipating from my skin. The chill of the night swallowed her presence, leaving only the faintest trace of her lingering spirit.

With Destroyer’s activation, the portal resealed itself, mechanisms around the secret laboratory humming as they powered down one by one. High above, my offspring drifted in the orbit of this broken world, waiting. Soon, they would return to Earth, free and untethered. Liberated.

Each step I to climb the top of this almost forgotten tower felt like another betrayal, another strike against the path I should have walked. But it was too late now. Too many wrong decisions, too many times I had strayed, and I was past the point of turning back. Carilora’s cries, desperate and filled with the kind of madness only love can drive, echoed in the recesses of my mind. Her voice hung in the air like a specter, her final words filled with both promise and threat:

"I will seek you out... no matter how long it takes, I will find you."

I stopped, looking out at the empty horizon. I had spent my entire life trying to make the right choices, hoping that by fixing the world’s problems, I could somehow earn peace—earn happiness. But it was never enough. My failures had only brought me here, to this broken place, with broken people, and now, nothing I had done seemed to matter.

I lifted my gaze to the stars, scattered like diamonds across the sky, their brilliance only serving to deepen my resolve. The beauty of it all was undeniable, but the hollow feeling inside me grew, gnawing at my determination.

“I know that man isn’t trustworthy,” I said aloud, to no one in particular, my voice carrying over the empty rooftop. “But even though what he’s shown me has come to pass, the best guide is one who leads you with just enough truth to push you toward the end he desires.”

The planet itself felt as though it was dying, its energy slowly being drained. Centuries of natural disasters had ravaged its surface, yet nothing compared to the current state. Nature had been supplanted—wildlife, vegetation, all replaced by sterile, artificial constructs. Machines and genetically engineered organisms populated the land, but it was hollow. Lifeless. Humanity had long since sacrificed the world’s soul in favor of its own pleasures, its own survival. But what remained was less than a shadow of the wild world it had once been.

Beneath the glittering lights of the city, a single tear slipped down my cheek, cutting a path of melancholy through the mask of determination I wore. This tear was different—not born of fury, but of a deep, unshakable sadness. A sense of remorse took hold as I looked out over the cityscape, the vastness of it all tainted by the realization of what had been lost.

The people around me, oblivious to the ruin they had caused, carried on without a care. They didn’t see themselves as bad, didn’t think they were wrong for continuing their indulgent, wasteful lifestyles. Consumerism, technology, genetic manipulation—it had all gone too far. And yet, the masses still clung to it, blind to the damage. There were those who altered their bodies to fulfill fantasies, those who became more than human, surpassing the capabilities of their ancestors. Some could change their sex, extend their lifespans by centuries, even travel between worlds. Yet, despite all their advancements, humanity remained primitive at its core—driven by desire, by the need for more, at the expense of others.

I wiped away the tear, my voice hardening as I whispered into the wind, “I will not allow my accomplishments, my offspring, or my relationships to become casualties for your ambitions.”

The voice of Destroyer cut through the silence, cold and mechanical: "Preparations complete, awaiting further instructions, my lord."

From the back of my armor, compartments hissed open, releasing feathers that shimmered like molten gold. Slowly, deliberately, they unfurled, casting a radiant light that pierced through the darkness of the night. Majestic wings, woven from energy and steel, stretched out from the tower’s edge, their glow so dazzling that those below mistook them for an elaborate hologram. To them, this was no different from the grand displays they were used to—mere entertainment, a fleeting distraction.

Little did they know, this was no performance. It was the end.

The last spectacle they would witness for a long, long time.

The wings unfurl slowly, stretching with a grace that belies their immense size, expanding beyond what any onlooker could have imagined. What once appeared as wings now become towering pillars of light, growing upwards and outwards, reaching for the heavens. The night, once cloaked in shadow, is erased by this radiant display, turning the darkness into a blinding day. Spectators freeze where they stand, their eyes wide with wonder at the luminous columns. Awe grips them at first, but soon that awe warps into something far more primal—fear. The light is too powerful, too overwhelming, and as it intensifies, it transforms into something that pierces through the soul.

From the vast reaches of space, one can witness the planet adorned in a cloak of shimmering golden lights, gradually turning luminous and white as it hovers closer to Earth. The spectacle captivates onlookers on every corner of the globe, eliciting both awe and a sense of impending dread. What entity possesses the power to engulf the entire sky in such brilliance? Some speculate it to be a solution concocted by the government to combat the world's energy crisis, a crisis exacerbated by an over-reliance on technology and artificial intelligence. Those who remain enthralled by the celestial light show continue to marvel at the mystery it holds within its radiant glow.

From the vantage point of space stations and the Mars outpost, Earth appears to be cradled within a set of celestial wings. Amidst the chaos, the authorities are in a frenzy, perplexed by this sudden phenomenon. It has only been 20 minutes since the world became aware of this strange occurrence, and for the past 10 minutes, no one has claimed responsibility. Governments from around the globe - the United States, Australia, China, Russia, Germany, England, India, the new Jerusalem, and the Arab United Nations - are all at a loss for words. As uncertainty looms, everyone is left pondering the unknown future that lies ahead.

"A powerful and thunderous noise resonates through the air, sending shivers down the spines of those who hear it. Despite not being spoken in their language, its significance is universally understood by all. The phrase "CELESTIAL JUDGMENT" conveys a profound message that strikes fear into the hearts of all who hear it."

In a spectacular display, the feathers that once formed majestic wings now transformed into hundreds of millions of shimmering golden feathers. These celestial missiles of light danced in the sky like mystical fireflies, casting an enchanting glow upon the night. As onlookers watched in awe, a sense of impending doom gripped their hearts. Mothers instinctively gathered their children close, their anxious gazes following the ethereal lights as they cascaded towards the earth. Panic set in as people scrambled for safety, seeking refuge within the confines of buildings. Those with extraordinary abilities or cybernetic enhancements moved swiftly, but even they could not evade the impending danger. With remarkable precision, the feathers plummeted towards their targets, seeking out individuals with eerie accuracy. The first impacts were met with cries of agony, as those struck were engulfed in intense suffering. Their bodies convulsed uncontrollably before erupting into a blinding explosion of light, leaving no remnants behind. In the aftermath, only a lingering shadowy mist remained, a stark reminder of the vanished souls. As the mysterious fog dissipated into the surroundings, a profound sense of loss and desolation hung heavy in the air.

Amidst the devastation, I stand atop the tower, my arms outstretched, waiting. The desolation below me is a testament to my power, to the lives I’ve taken, the energy I was meant to claim. But something is wrong. I can feel it in the air, in the subtle shift of the world beneath my feet. The energy—the very essence of those I had extinguished—is not flowing into me as it should. Instead, it is being drawn away, pulled toward something else.

My eyes narrow as I watch the glowing lights ascend toward the heavens, their luminescence growing fainter as they move beyond my reach. What is this? Something beyond my control, something far older and more powerful than anything I’ve faced, is interfering. It was a moment I had anticipated, planned for, but the magnitude of this force... it was beyond comprehension.

"As I stand amidst the ruins of a world decimated by my hand," I murmur aloud, "I know that the time has come for a higher power to finally intervene."

Uncertainty gnaws at me, a sensation I had long since discarded. For the first time, I feel its weight pressing down, constricting my thoughts. The wings of light that once served as my greatest weapon now shimmer faintly, disconnected, as if they no longer belong to me. No, they’ve been claimed—repurposed for a will far beyond my own. And in the distance, a shadow emerges, darkening the horizon, its form vast and incomprehensible. It is not of my design.

The flight to Megiddo is excruciatingly slow, though I could easily quicken the pace. Destroyer, my bio-nanotechnological armor, clings to me like a second skin, its wings outstretched, cutting through the sky with effortless grace. Its thrusters hum softly as we fly, propelling me forward, but even its sleek design cannot fully overcome the density of Earth’s atmosphere. Speed is inconsequential, though. There is no urgency. Whether I arrive in moments or hours, the answers I seek will be waiting for me.

Destroyer shifts around me, a fluid entity adjusting to the air currents, its form subtly changing as it molds itself to my body. I barely notice the transition anymore—it has become a natural extension of myself, as much a part of me as the blood in my veins. There was a time when others coveted this power, when they tried—and failed—to control it. They perished for their greed. Now, their deaths seem inconsequential. Destroyer belongs to me alone, its secrets mine to wield.

Below, the world writhes in the aftermath of my decimation. The streets that once bustled with life are now barren, littered with the remnants of a collapsed society. Children—so many children—wander aimlessly, their cries filling the silence of a world that no longer welcomes them. The elderly, fragile and bewildered, peer out from crumbling buildings, unable to fathom how swiftly everything has unraveled. Adults are a rarity now, the few who remain hiding in the shadows, too broken to act.

The sobs of the young reach my ears, faint but persistent. In response, the androids appear—simple models, designed for caregiving. They move among the ruins with mechanical precision, gathering the lost children, their voices soft and monotonous as they offer reassurances of safety. The children cling to them, too frightened, too confused to resist. The androids shepherd them into transports, their destination unknown.

Among the remaining survivors, an older man steps forward, his voice trembling with fear and confusion. "Where are we going? What will they do with us? Did… did you do this?"

The android’s response is cold, emotionless. "We didn’t cause this event, but we’ve been ordered to take care of you while everything unfolds."

The man’s eyes widen. "Whose orders?" he asks, his voice a mere whisper.

"The Judge and Executioner of humanity."

A ripple of fear spreads through the crowd, the weight of those words crushing their hopes like an unspoken verdict. The Judge and Executioner. Their fates have already been sealed, though none of them understand it yet.

"But… how?" the man stammers, his hands gripping the transport’s doorframe as though it might offer some semblance of stability in a world collapsing around him. "How could this happen?"

The android’s reply is as indifferent as before. "This is a new beginning."

I watch from above, amused. The children will be cared for, the survivors ushered into their new existence. What they don’t know is that they are no longer part of my world—they now belong to something else. The Judge has arrived, and even I must prepare for what is to come.

And now, I was flying toward Megiddo. The place where myths foretold that the final battle between good and evil would play out. Armageddon. Destroyer thrummed against my skin, its presence a constant reminder of the power we held. The power I had wielded so recklessly. It shifted again, molding itself into a form more suited to the incoming battle.

I allowed myself a moment to wonder—was I the villain of this story, or had I simply played my role too well?

"Do you feel remorse, Aido?"

The question caught me off guard. Destroyer never asked questions like that. It never probed deeper than the immediate. But now, its voice carried something different—an echo of emotion, or something close to it.

"Remorse?" I murmured, the wind carrying my words away. "No. I feel... determination. I will uncover the truth. That’s what I’m here for."

But even as I said it, I knew there was more. The truth wasn’t the only thing I sought. Power, justice, and retribution—I craved them all. And Megiddo would offer me the answers I needed. One way or another.

As the survivors began to gather in the designated areas, the realization settled in—there was no widespread destruction. The cities, once teeming with life, stood eerily intact. Buildings remained in place, streets untouched by any catastrophe, and only the haunting absence of the people hinted at the recent upheaval. The infrastructure was pristine, almost mockingly so, as if nothing had happened. It was only the empty vehicles—left abandoned in the middle of roads, parking lots, and highways—that seemed out of place. But even these were being swiftly dealt with.

Artificial intelligence systems, those same AI that had long served society, worked efficiently. Drones hovered above, gently lifting cars and trucks out of the way, while others were collected by automated transport systems. Buses and trains rolled through the streets, transporting the survivors. Some were even taken by air, whisked away in sleek, silent aircraft. All across the world, people were being funneled into one region, a military zone that had been hastily converted into a sanctuary of sorts. For some, the journey took minutes, but for others—coming from the farthest reaches of the globe—it would take hours. But they were all headed to the same destination.

Among the murmurs and whispers, one voice cut through the uneasy crowd.

“Only the chosen ones have survived the Judgment.”

A ripple passed through those gathered.

“What did he say?” another voice asked, filled with confusion and dread.

“Children,” came the hushed reply, “some adults, and a handful of elderly. They survived. But we still don’t know why.”

The crowd shifted, unease growing among them as more questions bubbled to the surface. The unknown gnawed at their minds.

“What is happening?” someone asked, their voice quivering with fear.

“Divine justice,” another voice—this one steadier, more urgent—answered. “We must go to the shelters before something else happens.”

People began to move, following the AI’s commands, but the uncertainty still clung to them like a second skin. The survivors didn’t fully understand what had just occurred. They didn’t know why they had been spared when so many others had vanished. The so-called Heavenly Judgment had swept through their world, and yet the full scope of it remained a mystery.

What many didn’t realize—perhaps couldn’t realize—was that this judgment had not been as arbitrary as it seemed. Those who had perished hadn’t simply been chosen at random. There was a dark calculus at play, one that judged the hearts and souls of everyone who had been caught in the light.

The malevolent thoughts of those who had passed on—the selfish, the cruel, the indifferent—had become their undoing. The ones who exploited others, who ignored the suffering of the weak, who thought their petty sins went unnoticed, were now paying the price. Their actions, seemingly insignificant to them, had built up like sediment in the rivers of their lives, and now that sediment had been washed away by the flood of divine reckoning.

Those who survived had been spared not out of mercy, but because their lives still held the potential for change, for redemption—or perhaps for something more sinister. The judgment had been exact, cutting away the negative energy that had festered within humanity. The greater the darkness that dwelled within, the more severe the separation from their life force. The process was silent, invisible to most, but the consequences were undeniable. The people who had been taken were left as nothing more than fading remnants, their energy consumed by the light. Only their malice, their cruelty, lingered in the air like a bitter aftertaste.

In the aftermath, the survivors were left to grapple with the remains of their shattered lives. Fear still clung to them, like a thick fog that refused to lift. Some were shaking, others in tears, unable to process the sheer magnitude of what had just occurred. The transition from mundane existence to the sudden, violent upheaval had left them paralyzed, teetering on the edge of comprehension. It was as though the world had been split in two, and they were now walking through the remnants of a broken reality.

For the children, the world was even more incomprehensible. Many of them had lost their parents, their families torn apart in an instant. Their tears flowed freely, their cries of confusion echoing through the streets. The older adults, those left behind, found themselves thrust into the role of caretakers—whether they wanted it or not. But even they were struggling, the weight of what had just happened pressing down on them, leaving them unsure of what their next move should be.

A deep unease had settled into the hearts of the survivors. Despite the AI’s mechanical reassurances, despite the smooth efficiency of the evacuations, the fear of what might come next hung in the air like a storm cloud. People whispered among themselves, questioning the purpose of it all.

What kind of justice was this? What sort of judgment had they survived, and for how long would they be allowed to exist in this new world?

And then there was the lingering question of those who had vanished—those whose lives had been taken in a flash of light. Were they truly guilty? Had they been judged fairly? Or was there something else at play?

“Where are we headed?” a woman whispered as she was led into one of the transport vehicles, her voice heavy with fear.

“Towards a new life,” an AI responded, its voice emotionless, almost soothing.

“A new life,” she repeated, her eyes glazing over with uncertainty. “Is that even possible?”

“There will be one soon,” the AI replied, and its words, though calm, carried an ominous weight.

Inside the transports, the survivors sat in silence, lost in their thoughts. No one had an answer for what lay ahead. The government had gone silent. No updates. No announcements. The authorities, too, had been judged—and they had come up wanting. Those who had once held power were gone, taken by the same judgment that had culled the world’s population.

In their absence, only the AI remained, coldly efficient, following its programming to shepherd the survivors to safety. But what that safety entailed was anyone’s guess. People clung to the hope that, somehow, things would return to normal, that this nightmare would end. Yet deep down, they knew the truth.

The world had changed, and there was no going back.