Chapter 21 – Before the Curtain Falls
Far above the clouds, where gravity bowed and time hesitated, a mountain rose—not of stone, but of celestial essence. It shimmered like a dream, too vivid, too perfect for any world born of logic. Gigantic flying beasts with crystalline wings soared between waterfalls that glowed like flowing light, not water. Trees with petals of gold and rivers reflecting constellations instead of clouds adorned the slopes. The wind carried the fragrance of flowers that bloomed only in forgotten dreams—wild, pure, and impossibly beautiful.
At the summit stood a temple—no, a citadel forged by gods. A structure so massive, so far beyond earthly scale, that mountains could dwell within its halls. Its ceiling stretched like a horizon, its pillars wider than oceans, and in its heart, atop a throne of polished obsidian and stardust, sat a giant.
He was ten kilometers tall, his form bound in armor forged from collapsed dimensions, pulsing with power. Eyes like twin supernovas glared down with sharp, deadly focus—eyes that had seen universes bloom and collapse.
Before him stood a man in a black robe. Compared to the throne-bound titan, he was no more than a speck—of human shape and height, his features hidden beneath the hood, swallowed by the robe's shadows. Only the aura he carried gave him weight. It was the weight of the System itself, of laws etched into reality by design, not nature.
"You called, My Lord," the Administrator said, voice like a wind that had traveled between galaxies.
"Have they all entered?" the giant rumbled, voice low, calm, yet deep enough to shake the fabric of the temple.
The Administrator bowed his head. "Almost all. A new world just joined. It nearly broke the record time."
A silence passed, ancient and thick with history.
"Interesting," the giant mused. "The System stabilizes faster each cycle."
The Administrator nodded. "The Rift architecture continues to improve. Each portal links a different dimension's rules to ours—just long enough to force the System's overlay into place. Once complete, we harvest the reactions. Every soul becomes a spark. Every decision, entertainment."
"All for the pleasure of the high beings…" the giant said, eyes burning brighter. "Like us."
The Administrator chuckled, a sound cold and quiet. "Soon, the participant count will reach critical mass. The Main Event can begin. Shall I dispatch the System Messenger?"
"Yes," the giant replied. "Send her."
The Administrator gave a small bow. "She is ready."
"And so am I," the giant murmured. "It has been long… since I've truly been entertained."
The Administrator vanished with a flicker of dark static, leaving the throne room empty—save for the ancient titan, still watching.
---
The scene shifted.
In the endless void between realities, far from form and function, floated a figure. A woman.
Her body drifted weightlessly through darkness, hair long and jet-black like liquid ink. It coiled around her, obscuring her face. Yet through the strands, one could see the edge of a smirk curling on her lips. And from beneath the veil of hair, her eyes opened—iridescent and terrifying.
They locked, not on this place, but far away.
Far, far below.
On a young woman.
Clara.
The void-bound woman whispered. Her voice could not be heard, but it echoed nonetheless.
"…chaos…"
Then the darkness swallowed her.
---
Another shift.
This time to another temple—smaller, but no less divine.
A massive round table stood in the center of a grand hall sculpted from light and music. Twelve seats circled it—six men, six women. They were stunning, like personified ideals.
The one at the head of the table had short gray hair, a solemn face, and wore a crown woven from starlight. His eyes were closed, yet aware of all.
To his right, a voluptuous woman with emerald hair and glimmering eyes rested her chin on her hand. She smiled lazily.
The man at the opposite end had hair as blue as glacial rivers, eyes matching. He exhaled, cold and calm.
Beside him, a male figure with bottomless black eyes and hair darker than void itself stared ahead, unreadable.
Two others stood out—a tall, dark-skinned woman with a bow slung over her back and a curved sword at her waist. Her posture was poised, but alert. Across from her, a broad-shouldered dark-skinned man rested his hammer against his leg, fiery eyes glowing like twin suns.
The others were no less divine—red-haired gods and radiant beings whose beauty defied comprehension.
"So it begins," the emerald-haired woman said with a soft sigh. "The final world has joined."
"Their world," added the man with blue eyes.
"The Rift pulses," said the woman with the bow. "Another wound in the veil of existence."
"I hope this cycle is more entertaining than the last," muttered a red-haired youth, running a hand through his long bangs.
The one with the crown finally spoke. His voice was serene, like a still lake under moonlight.
"As gods, we rarely indulge in such trivialities. But for this… let us enjoy it fully."
A ripple spread across the table, invisible but palpable.
The Main Event was about to begin.
---
And on Earth… it did.
From east to west, from sea to desert, a pulse of light shot into the skies. Status windows appeared—over cities, villages, in warzones, temples, bedrooms, and wilderness. Glowing panels hovering beside people, all showing the same thing:
Level 29.
Next Threshold: Level 30.
Main Event Begins in: [ 24:00:00 ]
Beijing, China
A girl in a school uniform froze mid-step on the sidewalk. Her mouth hung open. "...Already?"
Delhi, India
An old man in a robe leaned on his cane. "So soon... I thought we had more time."
Moscow, Russia
A soldier grunted, cracking his neck. "Tch. Something big's coming."
Tokyo, Japan
A teenage boy flicked his fingers, summoning sparks. "No way. We're at the brink already?"
Berlin, Germany
Two men in armor stood inside a cathedral. One adjusted his gloves. "Keep your weapons close. It's about to shift again."
Paris, France
A woman dropped her wine glass, stepping back. "C'est pas possible..."
London, England
A young girl with raven hair stared blankly at the screen, whispering, "We're really here…"
Washington, USA
A general leaned forward in a command bunker. "Track everything. This... this isn't normal escalation."
Brasília, Brazil
A boy ducked behind a tree, panting and laughing. "One more level. Just one more!"
Seoul, South Korea
A pop idol-turned-fighter looked out at the city ruins. "Twelve hours, huh? Guess that's our countdown."
Pyongyang, North Korea
A woman in black armor smiled faintly. "Now it gets interesting."
Rome, Italy
A priest clutched his rosary, his voice low. "Lord… protect us."
Yaoundé, Cameroon
A man wiped blood from his brow, a wild grin on his face. "Damn. Almost didn't make it."
Beside him, a teammate clapped him on the back.
"Last one to thirty buys drinks—if bars still existed."
The man chuckled. "Better sharpen your sword, then."
Cape Town, South Africa
A woman drew her twin blades from her back. "Tension's thick. Can you feel it?"
Sydney, Australia
A man stood at the edge of a broken rooftop, staring skyward. "Twelve hours. Then something changes."
Mumbai, India
A hooded woman in a crumbling temple whispered to herself, barely audible.
"...They're watching again."
---
All across the world, Players paused—hearts quickened, nerves sharpened. Some laughed. Some wept. Others simply stood still, staring at the glowing text.
And among them, stood Clara.
The light from her status window bathed her face in pale blue. She read the line over and over.
Level 29.
Her fingers curled. Her breath caught. The sky seemed heavier.
She turned, searching the distant road—eyes wide, chest rising and falling.
And in that instant—though no voice spoke—something called to her.
Like a thread pulling taut.
Like fate.
---
Far above, in the divine temple at the summit of reality, the giant opened one eye.
And smiled.
"Let the game begin."