At the end of the Gate of Nothingness, there was no radiant temple, no merciful god—only a vortex that looked like a cosmic abscess. It sucked at everything like a deranged drain: light, sound, emotion, even the last scraps of human sanity.
Ethan stumbled to its edge, head buzzing. He couldn't tell if he was still whole or already shredded into fragments. In his eyes flickered scenes of broken worlds: in some, he was still a wage slave drowning in Excel sheets; in others, an immortal prisoner dying on loop; in yet others, a corpse floating peacefully in a black sea, serene as a museum exhibit.
"So this is the crack's core?" Ethan gave a dry laugh, his voice trembling like a jammed radio.
The answer came in a voice both familiar and strange.Carl.
"Yes, Ethan. The Core of Nothingness."The voice echoed from the vortex, as if copied and pasted across a dozen different versions of Carl.
Ethan raised his head. Indeed, Carl's figure flickered in the flow—but not as a complete person. It was a collage of fragments: a grin, an eye, strips of flesh, a half-arm, all pasted together like cheap video editing.
"What the hell happened to you?" Ethan grimaced.
"Because I stopped being 'human' long ago." All the fragments of Carl spoke at once, their overlapping tones prickling goosebumps. "I am the key. And the other half… is inside you."
Ethan froze, then burst out laughing. "Ah, so that's why my life's been a joke. Turns out I'm just a damn keychain, meant to unlock this busted lock."
The laugh was bitter, like a failed stand-up gig at a dingy bar.
The vortex spun faster, its pull threatening to shred Ethan into confetti. He staggered back—only to find there was no ground anymore, just another layer of void. He stood on nothing, a cosmic prank waiting to drop him.
"You can't retreat," the fragmented Carl said. "You either merge, or you're pulverized. The Core accepts no bystanders."
Ethan's eyes hardened. He realized it at last: the mazes, the illusions, the multiple-choice traps—it was all to drag them here.
"So the grand finale is me and you fusing into one oversized key to open this so-called ultimate void?" His tone dripped sarcasm.
Carl's pieces all nodded, absurd as a glitchy cartoon.
"Sounds heroic," Ethan muttered. "Too bad I never wanted to play hero."
He spread his arms and let the pull take him. Flesh peeled away, blood turned into dark mist, bones popped apart like cheap toys. Through the pain, he still laughed.
"Hah… so this is the big destination. Everyone chasing happiness, immortality, meaning—all just lining up for the same meat grinder. The universe is nothing but an uncleaned sewer."
His laughter was swallowed by the vortex, chopped into echoes.
Carl's fragments merged with him, piece by piece. With every contact, memories spliced and scrambled: Ethan and Carl drinking in the dorms; Carl blocking a blade for him; Carl coldly sneering, You're just a tool.
Real or fake—Ethan stopped caring. He let himself become half-man, half-key, dragged into the heart of the vortex.
Inside the Core, there was no color, no form. Only a sterile announcement chimed, like a supermarket scanner:
"Key complete. Unlocking countdown begins: 10, 9, 8…"
Ethan chuckled through the tearing of his throat.
"So we're not heroes, not survivors… just screws, used to pry open the coffin lid of the universe."
The countdown roared. His body and Carl's fused into a smear of light, plunging into the abyss of the Core.
The void seemed to hold its breath.