Out in the endless sea of stars, where time did not pass and space stretched without limit; one final message unfolded in glowing, golden script.
[System Notification]Player Liam Reeds has defeated the Almighty God of the Universe, Aesirius.
The message pulsed with divine authority, embedded not just in the emptiness around it, but in the very rules that governed existence.
Another message followed;
[System Notification]Player Liam Reeds is now recognized as the new Almighty God of the Universe. System shutting down. No further administrative assistance required.
And then—nothing. The silence returned.
Except for the slow unraveling of a god. Aesirius hovered in space, unmoving. His once-imposing figure now wavered, flickering at the edges like the end of a candle's flame. From his shoulders, a quiet disintegration had begun—flesh, light, and armor peeling away into fragments of white luminescence, drifting apart like stardust caught in windless air.
He had long hair, silver, flowing, alive with a faint divine shimmer. The armor that once wrapped his form was grand in shape but impossible to define now. Its structure had long since blurred under the searing light of his fading divinity. What remained was only a silhouette of brilliance, a form no longer whole.
His eyes never left the man floating across from him. Liam Reeds. The last player of the system. The one who had struck the final blow.
Aesirius's lips curled faintly as his face began to dissolve.
"…your turn," he said, voice weightless.
Then he was gone. Dispersed into the stars like dust returning to its source.
Liam didn't answer. He didn't move. His body floated listlessly in the aftermath, surrounded by the ruins of what had once been reality. There was no sky. No ground. No sound. Just the infinite.
And in the middle of it, him. His long white hair swayed gently, caught in some unseen current. He looked young, somewhere in his twenties, but that illusion had long stopped mattering. Age had abandoned him long ago.
His body was marked by fresh wounds; gashes that crossed his chest, bruises wrapping his knuckles, blood dried beneath his eyes. A war had been fought here. One that had not spared a single world in its path.
He had won. But at what cost?. Worlds—his world, and countless others had crumbled in the battle with Aesirius. Civilizations extinguished. Memories obliterated. The scale of the destruction was so vast, so permanent, that even Liam, with the new level of divinity he just attained, couldn't reset it.
Not easily. There were only two options left to gods now.
Create Or Conquer.
He could forge a new universe from scratch, will it into being like the previous Architect once had, or he could descend into neighboring realms, find their reigning deities, and strip them of their existence to fuel his own.
Both paths were open to him. But first…
He needed to rest.
—
The stars shifted. Liam's body, still suspended in space, stirred. A slow, deliberate breath left his lips—and as it did, the fabric of reality around him rippled.
Then, something began to take form. Not born of stone or metal, but from will. A throne room; Its foundation was made from compressed starlight. With each step Liam took, space bent beneath him. A floor paved itself under his feet. Columns stretched up into infinity. This was no longer a battlefield. It was a domain.
Clothing wove itself around his body as he walked. His tattered armor vanished. In its place: a crisp white v-neck shirt, sleeveless and elegant in its simplicity. Slim black trousers formed next, tailored by divine instinct. And then, flowing over all, a long coat—black as the void, trimmed in faint silver edges that shimmered as though reflecting light from distant galaxies.
His bruises faded. Cuts sealed. He no longer bore the appearance of a warrior.
By the time he reached the heart of the space, the throne had formed behind him. Tall, dark, radiating with energy that pulsed gently with the rhythm of his will. It was neither gold nor marble—it was his symbol as a new god- The Power To Conquer All Things.
Liam turned, and without ceremony, sat upon it. One leg crossed over the other. His right elbow settled on the throne's arm. And his cheek rested against his knuckles—lazy, almost amused. But in his eyes? A stillness deeper than eternity.
And in that moment, Liam Reeds—once a man, once a player—became the Almighty God of this Universe.