Prologue : The Beginning
Year 20XX.
A sudden floating panel board appeared in the skies.
Not just one — thousands, hovering over cities, deserts, oceans, and mountains.
Massive enough to be seen from miles away, the boards loomed over Kuala Lumpur, Moscow, Beijing, Tokyo… over capitals, villages, and even the most remote islands.
On each board, in glowing golden text:
“The world has come to an end.”
“The Convergence will start in 24 hours, beginning now.”
“ Timer : 23:59:59 ”
The text ticked downward with mechanical precision.
At first, most thought it was some elaborate marketing stunt — a tech company’s new AR project, maybe a movie promotion.
Social media flooded with videos, comments, and conspiracy threads.
Some enthusiasts launched drones at the panels… only for the drones to pass straight through as if the boards weren’t physically there.
Timer : 20:59:59 Three hours passed.
The moment the timer passed the three-hour mark, a deafening thunder roared across the world, rattling every human and animal to their core. The Earth itself trembled as if an unseen hand had shaken the globe. Yet no building crumbled, no structure fell—only living beings felt its weight. And then, as suddenly as it came, the tremor stopped.
But the sky is still rumbled with faint thunderclap. Not in one city. Not in one country.
Everywhere.
A low, rolling thunder that never stopped, echoing like some ancient beast was waking under the atmosphere.
People stopped laughing. Conversations faltered, eyes darting upward as if the clouds themselves were watching.
Supermarkets grew crowded; aisles stripped bare in minutes.
Traffic snarled in every direction. In bars, strangers whispered about the end times over half-finished drinks.
An old man clutched his rosary with trembling hands and muttered, “Judgment Day… it’s Judgment Day.”
Religious groups mobilized instantly — mosques echoed with prayer, church bells rang nonstop, incense smoke rose in thick clouds at temples and shrines.
Others shouted that it was all a trick, a hoax from some “hidden world government.”
Yet no government, no corporation, no official agency stepped forward to claim responsibility.
Timer : 17:59:59 Six hours passed.
Day turned to night — instantly.
One heartbeat it was blazing noon; the next, pitch-black sky speckled with cold stars and a moon hanging too close.
On the other side of the world, midnight was swallowed by a sudden, alien daylight that felt… wrong.
The sun was too large, the shadows too sharp.
Astronomers screamed into dead microphones as their instruments gave nonsense readings.
The stars were gone. The sky wasn’t Earth’s anymore.
Some people stood frozen, staring upward for hours.
Others broke down, sobbing into their hands, as if they’d just realized they were no longer home.
Timer : 14:59:59 Nine hours passed.
Nature rebelled.
Snow blanketed Kuala Lumpur and Jakarta, burying palm trees and night markets.
The Sahara became a boiling ocean, flooding dunes and ancient ruins alike.
In Siberia, searing heatwaves split the ground, killing livestock in seconds.
These changes weren’t slow. They were instant and merciless.
A wedding party in Dubai drowned within minutes as floodwaters rushed through banquet halls.
A school in Finland erupted into flames, heat blasting through the windows without warning.
Cities burned, froze, and drowned all at once.
On television, news anchors tried to keep composure — until studios lost power and screens went black mid-sentence.
Satellite feeds cut. Entire communication networks collapsed.
Panic took root, spreading faster than the disasters themselves.
Timer : 11:59:59 Twelve hours passed.
A deep, constant rumble shook the world — like something vast was knocking from beneath the crust.
Seismographs spiked into unreadable chaos; scientists shouted over static, “The mantle… it’s moving.”
Bridges groaned, their supports bending like softened wax.
Skyscrapers swayed like drunks. Shops were abandoned mid-transaction.
Highways clogged with abandoned cars.
People no longer cared about jobs, schedules, or rules.
The televisions flickered back to life, radios crackled with static before voices cut through. This time, it wasn’t news anchors—it was the military.
Across every channel, every frequency, the same stern announcement rang out:
“Martial law is now in effect. Do not panic. Do not spread unfounded rumors.”
They ordered civilians to abandon their homes and gather in open fields or designated safe zones. No explanation, no reassurance—just a desperate command, urging people to brace for whatever was coming.
But people know, because the only thing left was fear — a silent, unanimous knowing: the world is ending.
Timer : 08:59:59 Fifteen hours passed.
The ground split apart.
Hairline cracks in asphalt spread into canyons that could swallow buses whole.
Entire streets fell into the abyss.
Towers tilted, screaming steel bending before collapsing into rubble.
Trees toppled like matchsticks.
Sparks from fallen power lines lit the night with white flashes before disappearing into the dark chasms.
A crowded highway in Los Angeles vanished as the road beneath it fell away — cars tumbling, screams swallowed by the abyss.
Thousands gone in seconds.
People clung to each other in the streets, eyes wild, unsure whether to run or stay put.
Timer : 05:59:59 Eighteen hours passed.
Earthquakes became monsters.
Tsunamis hundreds of meters high devoured coastlines — skyscrapers disappeared under a wall of black water.
Tornadoes ripped through cities at random, flinging buses and tanks into the air.
Typhoons formed where none had ever been recorded.
Some fled to mountains, believing height would save them.
Others burrowed into underground shelters, praying the earth wouldn’t open beneath them.
Entire nations were gone in hours.
Death tolls were already in the millions.
In the streets, some screamed and ran. Others sat down, closed their eyes, and waited.
Timer : 02:59:59 Twenty-one hours passed.
Silence. No wind. No waves. No rumble beneath the ground.
For a few, this stillness was hope — a sign the trial had ended. They wept, hugged strangers, and called loved ones.
But most felt the weight of that silence like a predator breathing down their necks.
A soldier standing guard in New York whispered to his comrade, “This is the worst part. The waiting.”
The countdown kept ticking.
Timer : 00:00:01 Timer : 00:00:00
The boards flashed white.
“The Convergence starts now.”
The ground convulsed violently.
Whole city blocks ripped upward into the air, suspended for seconds before crashing back down with bone-breaking force.
The air thickened into a metallic, reddish haze that burned lungs with every breath.
The sky bled copper; clouds churned like molten metal.
Earth flipped on itself — mountains collapsed into plains, oceans poured into canyons, valleys rose into jagged cliffs.
When the world stilled, it was no longer round.
It was flat, an endless landmass stretching to horizons where the ground simply… ended, falling into a black void.
Strange mountains unlike any Earth geology jutted into the sky.
Rivers of glowing liquid ran in impossible directions.
Most of the old cities were gone; others stood broken but defiant, skeletons of the world that was.
Far at the horizon, faint silhouettes loomed — massive, alien structures unlike anything built by human hands.
And they were moving.
The panels lit again:
“The Convergence is finalized.”
“Now you are entering the Karma Plane.”
“A new system will be applied.”
“All currency is now deleted.”
“Units are the new global currency.”
“This is your world’s position based on ranking.”
The boards displayed a massive linear plane stretching endlessly in both directions, split between an upper half shimmering in golden light and a lower half drowning in darkness.
A small arrow pointed near the lower left edge: EARTH.
A second floating panel appeared.
KARMA PLANE RANKING Only 20 names were shown.
Earth sat in 11th place — rank 1377, –83,210 Karma Points.
Above and below were worlds with names no human language could pronounce.
The first and last slots were fixed:
Rank 1 — Heaven (+20M Karma)
Rank 2560 — Hell (–19M Karma)
The first board updated again:
“ Rules of the Karma Plane:
All worlds, realms, and universes now exist within the Karma Plane.
Positive Karma worlds occupy the Upper Plane; Negative Karma worlds occupy the Lower Plane.
Worlds near the edges will be deleted weekly.
Weekly World Events will occur simultaneously in every world, affecting Karma Points and rewards.
Only two worlds — the centers of the Upper and Bottom Planes — will survive at the end of time.
Each world must appoint a Constellation Leader to enable full system of the new world.
Goal: Survive. ”
The perspective panned outward — revealing alien realms: crystalline cities drifting above oceans of light, volcanic wastelands where titans walked, forests so vast they bent under triple moons.
“The First World Event will begin without a Constellation.”
“Event starts in 1 hour.”
Timer : 00:59:59
Governments scrambled.
Militias seized control of cities.
Cult leaders declared themselves saviors.
Some civilians banded together to think calmly, barricading schools and office buildings into fortresses.
Others fled, carrying whatever they could in their arms.
World leaders appeared on emergency broadcasts, urging order — their voices cracking as soldiers behind them shouted over static.
“00:00:00 ”
The first event began.
“ World Event #1: Invasion Survive the invasion.
World Reward: ± 20,000 Karma Points, 10M Units, Relics
Personal Rewards: Units, Relics (based on contribution)
Clear Condition: Survive 1 hour. ”
Suddenly, a massive rifts split the sky.
From them descended giants, each the height of skyscrapers, their bodies a fusion of twisted metal and flesh. Limbs too long, eyes glowing like furnaces, mouths lined with spiraling teeth.
They landed with earth-shattering force, their roars shaking glass from windows.
Some tore through skyscrapers with a single swing. Others scooped humans up by the handful, devouring them whole. Streets ran red.
People stampeded — into subways, into basements, into sewers.
Some prayed. Some fought. Most simply screamed.
While chaos devoured the Earth, the view shifted.
Darkness. An endless void outside of time and space.
In it floated a man — nameless, ageless, sharp-featured yet impossible to place. He wasn’t standing, lying, or falling.
Simply there. Suspended in the nothing.
A dim light from above touched only his face.
A deep, unseen voice rumbled through the void:
“Wake up… to reality.”
His eyes snapped open.
The view pulled back, farther and farther, until the man was no more than a speck swallowed by infinity.
The scene cut to black.
Prologue End.
