The room was white, not the color but the idea of it, a brightness so complete it erased edges. There were no corners to catch the eye, no ceiling to imply shelter, no floor that promised weight or balance. The space did not extend so much as exist, an infinite pause holding its breath.
At its center stood a man, his outline steady while his substance seemed in motion. Color bled from him in soft pulses, blues and golds and hues no spectrum could properly name, as if light itself had been persuaded to wear the shape of a middle-aged body. Age clung to him only as an aesthetic choice. Beside him stood a young woman, equally radiant, her glow calmer, warmer, layered like sunlight filtered through skin. She rested one hand on his shoulder, a familiar gesture, grounding or possessive, it was impossible to tell.
A wooden chair blinked into existence beneath him. He sat as if it had always been there. The impossible arrival of furniture, the godlike radiance pouring from both of them, none of it drew attention the way their bodies did, smooth and flawless, conspicuously lacking any mark of sex or function. They were complete without it. They did not look down. They did not care. They stared forward, two statues in a room that refused to be called a room.
The wall before them rippled.
White softened, shimmered, then melted into something like living glass, translucent and breathing. Beyond it unfolded a sight no mortal mind could cradle without splintering. Stars collapsed into rivers of fire, then unraveled again. Worlds drifted like dust caught in a slow, deliberate sigh. Vast arcs of creation twisted and reformed, a cosmic ballet too large for meaning, too intimate for sanity.
Neither of them blinked.
The man raised a hand.
Reality folded obediently. The panorama vanished in a single blink, the glass snapping back into solid white as if ashamed of its indulgence. At the same moment, a crystal sphere appeared in his palm, roughly the size of a football, its surface alive with flickering storms.
At first glance, it might have been a ceremonial trinket, the sort of object lesser beings would kneel before. A closer look stole breath. Inside the sphere churned a universe in miniature. Millions of stars burned within it, each no larger than a button, yet complete. Galaxies coiled like luminous shells, spirals within spirals, while nebulae drifted through the dark like slow exhalations. Some stars dimmed, flared, then collapsed into pinprick black holes that devoured passing light with patient, absolute hunger.
Between the galaxies ran glowing rivers, threads of brilliant energy weaving through cosmic gaps. A new black dot blinked into being, but unlike the others, it did not consume. It expelled, vomiting everything it swallowed through an unseen twin across the universe, folding space like cloth pushed through a ring.
And this was only a fraction of the orb's wonders. Even naming them felt futile, like trying to teach color to the blind or silence to the deaf.
The man did not look at it.
With casual indifference, he set the sphere into a wooden box resting on a crimson cushion. The box itself had not existed a moment earlier. Inside lay ten such crystal balls, arranged in a perfect ring, a divine answer to an impossible question: what does existence look like, when held in the hand?
He sighed. The sound was dry, exhausted, stripped of grandeur. "I am dying of boredom."
The woman winced. "Not even a week ago, you created a world in Thi because some random book mentioned it, only to destroy it." She tilted her head, eyes sharp. "And the reason you gave for destroying it was 'not as you imagined'. We finally come back, and now you're bored again?"
His expression sank deeper into gloom, as though boredom were a physical weight pressing down on his features.
She rubbed her temple and sighed. "Fine. Should we go destroy a planet in another universe? Or make a new one? If that's boring, you could create a new species from another book and I'll breathe life into them."
"No," he muttered. "They're all boring. I want something new, something different."
She flicked her gaze toward the wall. It responded instantly, blooming into a shifting collage of images. Games played across impossible fields, dances that bent gravity, strange sports and rituals, entertainments even humans had no language for.
Pointing at the spectacle, she asked, "Well? Which one will keep your divine butt entertained this time?"
He approached the wall with slow disdain, hands clasped behind his back. "I said different. Not the same things I do every time I'm bored."
Her lips curled into a teasing grin. "Then why not visit one of my soul seeds? A little talk with my dolls might fix you."
He ignored the jab, eyes narrowing in thought. "Hmm. Let's play this game." He pointed to an image of the two of them seated at a chessboard before a crowned man, an entire hall of spectators frozen in anticipation.
"Chess?" she scoffed. "Didn't you hate chess because you lost to me?"
He straightened, smugness radiating from him. "Me? Lose to you? You must be remembering wrong. You lost, and the kingdom's whole ministry hailed my victory."
"That wasn't victory, that was cheating," she shot back. "You changed a rule in everyone's mind, including the poor inventor of the game. They are still playing it wrong."
His eyes gleamed. "I know how to entertain myself now."
Her expression flattened, unimpressed. He continued anyway.
"We're playing chess again. But not with those lifeless wooden pieces. This time, the pieces will be alive." He chuckled softly. "Or maybe it's better if we're the audience, not the players."
"Of course," she said dryly. "Watching is safest for you. That way, you can't lose."
He scowled. "Winning is all that matters, not how you win."
"Yes, yes. I can't argue with you."
She waved a hand. "Fine. Let's play chess."
"Good." He nodded, and the wall dissolved once more, opening into a vast, star-speckled void.
She glanced at the darkness. "Which planet shall we pick? It needs evolved beings, otherwise you can't 'cheat'. " She lingered on the last word.
He raised an eyebrow. With a gesture, the wooden box reappeared in his hand. Opening it, he said, "Let's play it real. And I want this one to last for a while."
Nine of the spheres lifted from the box, floating upward to orbit them like obedient moons.
She narrowed her eyes. "Are you really that bored?"
His nod was almost pathetic.
She sighed and faced the revolving spheres. Above each orb, a slip of paper appeared, crude handwriting etched in glowing letters that writhed like living ink.
"I'm bored too," she said quietly. "So let's pick from the Anima worlds this time."
She stepped closer and looked into the spheres before her. "It's been a while since we checked on them. Let's see where the seeds ended up."
Hyun, Universe One.Anima world: Nabut.Dominant species: Gantz.Evolved through quantum study, teleportation and telepathy commonplace. Four great wars behind them.
Di, Universe Two.Anima world: Uranus.Dominant species: Witches and Dragons.Masters of life-source arts. Three great wars.
Thi, Universe Three.Anima world: Earth.Dominant species: Humans.Students of nuclear and quantum fundamentals, knowledge expanding slowly. One great war.
Ar, Universe Four.Anima world: Mercuria.Dominant species: Theropods.Knowledge questionable, inventions primitive. No great wars yet.
Fi, Universe Five.Anima world: Pearl.Dominant species: Machina.Devoted to existence but uninterested in learning more. Three great wars.
Sinh, Universe Six.Anima world: Eden.Dominant species: Heroes.Wielders of celestial power. Four great wars.
Asta, Universe Eight.Anima world: Tristar.Dominant species: Supremes.Can channel celestial energy and life sources. Six great wars.
Nan, Universe Nine.Anima world: Nagnia.Dominant species: Vampires, mermaids, goblins, and countless others.Only now learning that knowledge matters as much as survival. Four great wars.
Unni, Universe Ten.Anima world: Greystone.Dominant species: Gods.Knowledge infinite. Ten great wars.
She lowered the glowing sheet.
The man opened the box again and lifted its final sphere.
"Nirvana," he murmured.
"That wish," she began, but he cut her off.
"I remember. Doesn't it have seventy more years?"
She nodded.
"We haven't started preparations yet?"
"You told me to wait until the end begins."
He closed his eyes. A low hum rippled through the white void.
"How didn't we notice earlier…?"
She mirrored him, eyes closing as realization struck. "You told me not to watch it, so I didn't keep tabs," she whispered. "But I never thought the end would begin already."
His expression bloomed with excitement, the first genuine spark of it. "I've decided."
She looked at him expectantly.
"The game will be played there."
She hesitated, only for a heartbeat. "Not a bad idea. Should I prepare the board?"
He rose sharply. "No. Leave this part to me. I'll be the mastermind. You sit back and—"
For the first time, she interrupted him, her hand settling on his shoulder.
"Can you understand humans or their emotions or reciprocate their feelings?"
He blinked. "I can feel bored."
She rolled her eyes. "That's not a feeling."
Silence stretched. Finally, he said, "…No."
She softened. "Can you create anything without destroying?"
He thought. Too long. "…No."
"It's an Anima world with its end already began," she said gently. "We can't risk anything. We both go."
He nodded.
Smiling faintly, she lifted the crystal ball and whispered, "SETH."
The room dissolved. Light extinguished.
They emerged into a vast darkness, a colossal planet hanging before them like a silent omen.
He tilted his head. "Shall we use our old names for this game?"
"Yes, Obero."
He gazed at the world they were about to reshape. "Then let's begin preparations for the game, Isha."