Once again, Grey felt like he was watching something he shouldn’t have been watching.
Was this really what was happening?
In that case, the Gods. Had they come from the last time the black hole swallowed the last universe that came before it? Was that where the Genesis System had come from?
Wasn’t it ironic to call it genesis if none of these fuckers even knew how many layers down you’d have to go before you got to the first universe there ever was?
Had there ever truly been a first universe?
But then how exactly did the Genesis Games appear?
The implication seemed to be that the Genesis Games were the product of the history the last universe had lived out being replayed again.
But if this was the history of the actual universe, how exactly did the Producers have so much control over it?
Grey’s eyes rapidly scanned and then he focused on Earth.
’Earth. Earth. Earth. Earth. Earth. Milky Way. Something, dammit!’
Surprisingly, it worked.
No... horrifyingly.
The endless black snapped into a little blue-green orb in the middle of nowhere. As the rest of the universe blinked into existence, so too had Earth.
That proved it to Grey. Earth was the baby of this new cycle, and it had inadvertently slotted itself into one side of this endless, ongoing war between the Lurking Races and the Signalling Races.
But since Earth had been picked up for this game, did that mean that their cycle’s "Dark Kin" were winning?
Grey didn’t really care who the fuck was winning, he just didn’t want to be fucked with. Clearly, he wasn’t going to get his wish, though.
"Shit..." Grey cursed, looking at his home world in silence.
He had really been hoping that the images he saw here were just the plot line of this stupid game, that the Genesis Games were just scripted nonsense brought about by Gods with too much time on their hands.
Would that actually be better?
Grey thought so. If that was the case, at the very least, someone in this universe would have their shit together, someone would be able to push pause on chaos and let everything return to order.
But if the Dark Kin were winning this Chaos War, then things would inevitably end the same way they had in the last cycle.
Grey suddenly remembered words that a follower of Calixan had spoken in the last Instance he had entered.
The man had said they were nothing but artificial spirits, that there was no need to care about them at all, that the sacrifices would be worth it because they weren’t amongst the living anyway...
Grey had just thought it was nonsense back then, that he was speaking out of one side of his mouth. Grey had even found it amusing because the reality was that it was they who were the NPCs and he who was the real person.
But what if Calixan hadn’t been lying to his followers? What if that was truly the case?
What if before this version of the Genesis Games, Calixan and his people had been part of their own version... and maybe the people before them had been part of their own version as well... and the people before them... and the people before even them...
Grey’s heart trembled.
This secret was too big. But how big?
There was still one question left to be answered, one question that—depending on how he responded—may very well decide the kind of man he was.
How did the Producers control the Genesis Games?
Grey felt his skin reddening. It was hard to control his own agitation because it felt like he was looking at the end of his own life.
Dying was one thing, but being trapped in an endless loop where your life wasn’t even under your own control—.
Grey’s pupils constricted into pinholes.
Wasn’t he already experiencing that now? Wasn’t his life already being treated like he was some sort of NPC that could be brought back at the snap of a finger?
Even when he had died and thought he was completely finished because he hadn’t had the energy to exchange for his life, Prometheus had brought him back anyway back in the vampire pimp’s Instance.
And then there were all the times before he even got Prometheus a vessel. Prometheus hadn’t even been connected to him back then, yet it somehow looped him back every time anyway.
What if he really was an NPC already? What if it just depended on what angle you entered the Genesis Games from? What if every iteration of the universe was just playing its own game and some God high above was pulling strings and sipping wine while laughing with their friends?
Part of Grey wanted that to be the case. At least that would mean that the universe wasn’t just trapped in an endless death spiral they just couldn’t get out of, at least it would mean there was some semblance of control left, that there would be some autonomy wrested away from chaos so long as they grew strong enough.
But another part of him was furious at the idea.
However... hadn’t he already thought that was the case? What else did he think this place was in the beginning if not powerful people, sipping wine, and taking bets on whether he would die today or tomorrow?
Grey’s hand formed a hook on his jaw. He was nothing but a spirit right now, but it was like he could feel his mechanical jaw still hooked to himself, and through it he could feel Prometheus.
He almost wanted to rip it off, to shred it from his face even if it meant taking his jaw off its hinges.
His hand trembled as he looked down at Earth.
’Grandpa...’
Grey had tried very hard not to think about his grandpa. He had enough stuff to be worried about to not also be wondering every day if his old man was dead or alive.
If the old man was truly dead... Grey wasn’t sure what he would do. Maybe he would lose his mind entirely.
What Grey didn’t expect was that the moment he had the thought, the images would zoom onto Earth. It focused on an old man with bronzed, ruddy skin whose energy made him look 20 years younger than he should have been.
He sat with his eyes glued to a flat screen, gripping his arm rests so hard he should have popped a blood vessel or two by now.
The image on the TV wasn’t Grey at all, but the old man kept looking, kept staring, hoping for just a single glimpse of his grandson.
Tears began to fall from Grey’s eyes and then he started to laugh, he started to laugh with so much relief his Neural Frame erupted with endless streams of bright golden light.
His grip on his jaw tightened, streams of golden spirit falling down his cheeks in rivers.
Grey tried to stop, but it felt like he had held it in for far too long. He roared, venting out every frustration in his heart, the waves pulsing from him so wildly they seemed to illuminate the entire universe and the old man finally peeled his eyes away from the TV only to see nothing at all above him.
—
[Operation, {Howl of the Savages}, Cleared]
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