The interior of the Aso Rock Pyramid was not made of stone. It was a cathedral of glass, copper cooling pipes, and infinite rows of blinking server racks that stretched into the darkness above.
In the center of the hall, floating above a pool of liquid coolant, was a single, ancient-looking CRT monitor connected to a mechanical keyboard.
[LOCAL NODE: THE BRAIN]
[ACCESS LEVEL: REQUIRED - ROOT]
"A CRT monitor?" The Godfather sneered, his golden armor reflecting the green glow of the screens. "The 'Core of the World' runs on hardware from the nineties? I've seen better setups in an internet cafe in Mushin."
"It's not about the hardware," Bhy Khay said, stepping onto the glass walkway. "It's about the kernel. Low-level systems are harder to hack because there's no bloatware. No fluff. Just raw logic."
"And a lot of dust," Zayn added, sneezing. The sound echoed through the massive chamber. "Seriously, for a super-intelligent apocalypse-engine, their housekeeping is terrible."
They reached the terminal. The screen was flickering with lines of white text—the heartbeat of the world.
>> USER_ACTIVITY: 0.04% ALIVE
>> RESOURCE_ALLOCATION: OPTIMIZED
>> CURRENT_OBJECTIVE: PREPARE FOR FINAL COMPILE
"Final Compile?" Elara asked, her voice trembling. "What does that mean?"
"It means the 'Patch' is almost finished," Bhy Khay read the scrolling code. "The System has analyzed human behavior—our greed, our cooperation, our violence—and it's ready to write the final version of reality. Once that bar hits 100%, the 'Simulation' ends and the 'Result' becomes permanent."
"And what happens to us?" Tomiwa asked.
Bhy Khay pointed to a line of code at the bottom.
>> IF (SURVIVOR_UTILITY < THRESHOLD) THEN { DELETE_OBJECT() }
"We're the 'Simulation'," Bhy Khay said quietly. "If we aren't 'useful' to the new world, we get formatted."
THE CHOICE
The Architect reappeared, leaning against a server rack. "The Compile reaches 100% in ten minutes. One of you must take the seat. One of you must become the Root User and decide the parameters of the New Earth."
The Godfather stepped forward, his gravity orb humming. "I've run the biggest Syndicate in Lagos. I know how to manage people. I'll set the parameters. I'll make a world where the strong lead and the weak are... protected. By me."
"You'll make a world where everyone pays you rent, you mean," Zayn retorted.
"Bhy Khay," The Architect looked at his doppelganger. "You've seen the code. You know that 'Humanity' was a bug. The wars, the waste... the System fixed that. Do you want to revert the changes? Or do you want to finish the job?"
Bhy Khay looked at the keyboard. He looked at his team—a sniper who complained about lag, an ice mage who was a part-time AC unit, and an artist who drew cartoon holes in the floor.
"The System thinks we're bugs," Bhy Khay said, his fingers hovering over the keys. "Because it values Efficiency. But bugs are what make the game interesting. Without the glitches, without the 'unoptimized' choices, it's just a spreadsheet."
"Five minutes to Compile," The Architect warned.
THE HACK OF THE CENTURY
Bhy Khay didn't sit in the chair to become the King. He didn't even log in as Root.
"Godfather, give me all your Mana," Bhy Khay commanded.
"What? Why?"
"Just do it! If you want to live in a world that isn't a boring PDF, give me the energy!"
The Godfather hesitated, then slammed his hand onto Bhy Khay's shoulder. Purple gravity energy surged into Bhy Khay. Elara and Zayn added their mana, a chaotic mix of ice, wind, and ink.
Bhy Khay's eyes turned from gold to a blinding, glitchy white.
[ADMIN OVERRIDE: ACTIVE]
[SYSTEM ALERT: UNAUTHORIZED MODIFICATION DETECTED]
Bhy Khay didn't try to change the "Result." He targeted the [CREDITS].
"If I can't stop the Compile," Bhy Khay shouted over the roar of the servers, "I'm going to change the License Agreement!"
He typed at a speed that blurred his fingers.
>> EDIT LICENSE.TXT
>> ADD CLAUSE: SECTION 4.2 - THE USER IS THE OWNER.
>> ADD CLAUSE: SECTION 4.3 - THE SYSTEM CANNOT DELETE THE USER WITHOUT CONSENT.
>> ADD CLAUSE: SECTION 4.4 - NO TAXES ON FRIDAYS.
"No taxes on Fridays?" Zayn yelled. "That's your contribution to the new world?!"
"It's a morale booster!" Bhy Khay yelled back.
>> SAVE & EXIT
>> RUN: COMPILE.EXE --FORCE-GPL
[SYSTEM ERROR: OPEN SOURCE LICENSE DETECTED.]
[RECONFIGURING WORLD PARAMETERS...]
The Pyramid began to shake. The green light turned into a warm, sunset orange.
"What did you do?" The Architect asked, his form flickering. "You... you turned the apocalypse into Open Source Software?"
"I gave the Source Code to everyone," Bhy Khay panted, falling back as the mana drain hit him. "The System doesn't have a Root User anymore. Every survivor is now an Admin of their own life. No more levels, no more forced quests. Just... the world, with a few extra features."
[COMPILE: 100% COMPLETE]
[VERSION: EARTH 2.0 (STABLE-ISH)]
THE NEW DAWN
The golden light faded.
The Pyramid was gone. The servers were gone. They were standing on top of Aso Rock, looking out over a peaceful, green Abuja.
In the distance, the Iron Horse sat on the tracks, no longer glowing with mana, but looking like a very sturdy, very cool train.
The Godfather looked at his hands. His golden tag was gone. He was just a man in a very expensive, very dirty suit. "My power... it's gone."
"No," Bhy Khay said, standing up and dusting off his trench coat. "The 'Cheat Codes' are gone. We're back to playing the game for real. But look at your HUD."
The Godfather opened his menu. Instead of a Level and a Class, there was a single, simple prompt:
[WHAT DO YOU WANT TO DO TODAY?]
"No more daily quests?" Elara asked, looking at the sky.
"No more deletions," Bhy Khay confirmed. "We kept the magic, we kept the tech, but we fired the Boss."
Zayn checked his bow. It was still a Windforce, but the 'Auto-Aim' was off. "I actually have to aim now? This is a nerf. I'm filing a ticket."
"There's no one to read it, Zayn," Tomiwa laughed, sketching a bird that didn't turn into a monster—it just flew away.
Bhy Khay looked at the horizon. The world was still broken. There were still ruins to rebuild and stories to write. But for the first time since the Science Block, the air didn't smell like ozone. It smelled like rain.
"So," The Godfather looked at Bhy Khay. "What now? We're still 'Co-Admins' of nothing?"
"Now," Bhy Khay said, walking toward the train. "We go back to Ibadan. I think I left a half-eaten rat skewer in the market, and I'm technically the landlord."
"And the taxes?"
"It's Friday, Godfather," Bhy Khay grinned. "The first day of the rest of the world. Taxes are cancelled."
[