Prologue: The Depuration Protocol.
In nature, compassion does not exist. It is a silent truth that many species on the planet understand by pure instinct: when offspring are born weak, ill, or simply do not fit into the pack, they are left behind. There is no malice in this act; it is simply Natural Selection functioning with cold precision, without hatred and without hesitation.
However, in the human world, things are different. We are countless souls on this Earth, each convinced that they have a guaranteed place and a special value. But the truth is much cruder. In our arrogance, we humans invent patches. We create laws and use beautiful words such as “hope”, “empathy”, or “second chances” to hide a reality that we are terrified to say out loud: at times, some people simply have to be discarded.
The Earth is a living organism that does not tolerate failure. To the world’s system, we are nothing more than organised matter, and when a piece ceases to fulfil its function, the original design removes it from the path. There is no room for that which is useless; it is, once again, Natural Selection.
The Depuration Protocol does not kill you immediately: your body remains on Earth, connected to hospital machines that keep your lungs functioning. But your consciousness and your soul, those parts of you that life no longer needs to use, are expelled from reality and dragged towards a spiritual landfill: Nullaria.
There is no appeal. There is no warning. The system does not hate those it discards; it simply no longer considers them. And that indifference is, perhaps, the most terrifying thing of all.