Life. Death. Order. Chaos. These are the four grinding gears of a universe that does not care if you scream. They turn in a precarious, bloody circle: where Life falls, Death putrefies. From that rot, Life takes a new, mutated form—chaotic and unpredictable—until Order arrives with a cold, iron fist to chain it. These things are as cosmic and unknowable as the light of dead stars.
But even these primal forces are harnessed by a single Will. This entity is neither man nor woman, alien nor human; it is the Alpha and the Omega, the Beta and the Delta. It is the architect of the beginning and the witness to the end. It has no name, only a Will—and that Will has reached into the filth of existence to pluck seven souls for a purpose beyond their comprehension.
The Realm of Chaos is an infinite, screaming madness. To the north lies the Domain of the Blood God. Here, the sky is a bruised crimson, and rivers of boiling gore and molten brass churn toward the Brass Keep. Across plains of splintered bone, the Khornate legions march in a rhythmic thunder of boots and blades. Atop a throne of skulls beyond numbering sits Khorne. He is clad in blackened, Gothic plate, etched with the screams of a billion slaughtered souls and stained with the ichor of gods he murdered at the dawn of time.
To the west, the Realm of Sorcery shimmers with the sickly light of a thousand dying suns. It is a labyrinth of shifting crystal that defies the laws of geometry. In its center floats a tower of pulsing, cerulean fire. This is the seat of Tzeentch, the Architect of Fate. His form is a nightmare of constant mutation—eyes opening in palms, tentacles sprouting from throats—wrapped in tattered blue robes stitched with yellow symbols so arcane they would cause a mortal's brain to liquefy.
To the south, the air is a thick, yellow soup of flies and spores. This is the Garden of Nurgle, where lakes of bile and acid feed forests of weeping, cancerous trees. In the heart of the blight stands the rotting mansion of the Plague Lord. There, Grandfather Nurgle, a mountain of weeping sores and exposed organs, stirs a rusted black cauldron. He hums a tuneless dirge as his Nurglings pour the essence of every disease known to man into the pot, brewing the end of all things.
To the east, the air smells of musk and copper. The Dark Prince's realm is a sinkhole of six circles, a paradise of exquisite agony. In the center sits a palace of gold and bone, so beautiful it is a form of violence. Slaanesh reclines there on a throne of silken pillows, a creature of terrifying, androgynous perfection, delicately peeling strips of embryonic flesh from their own body just to feel the sting.
These four rule the Great Game, fueled by the endless suffering of the multiverse. But the Game has changed. The "Upstarts" have carved scars into the Warp. Malific and his industrial iron-clads; Vashtorr, the cold master of the Soul Forge; and in the southeast, a Black Sun that bleeds yellow energy and a freezing, absolute silence. The Four laugh, but the Sun grows, chipping away at the mountains of madness.
Hek'tan Konn, Sergeant of the 2nd Company, Salamanders Chapter, sat in the flickering red gloom of a Thunderhawk. The smell of promethium, stale sweat, and sanctified oil filled his lungs. Outside, the atmosphere of Calypsos IIIV was a thrumming hell of flak fire and Ork roars. The Shrine World was a graveyard in the making.
Through the viewport, Hek'tan saw the "Sea of Green"—thousands of Orks crashing against the thin line of Lasgun fire held by the dying PDF. Imperial tanks fired into the mass, their shells carving bloody furrows in the meat of the horde. But Hek'tan's duty lay in the Hive. High Command suspected the xenos were tunneling beneath the Hive's foundations to topple the spires from below.
The Thunderhawk banked hard, engines screaming in protest, dropping Hek'tan, his battle-brothers Sho'Tan and Xa'Vor, and Sister Shandra into the soot-choked dark of the underbelly.
"Lieutenant Hek'tan," the Captain's voice hissed through the vox, distorted by the Hive's interference. "Advance. Purge any sign of the xenos malevolence. Return only when the dark is silent."
Hek'tan led the way, his heavy boots clanking on rusted iron. Sister Shandra gripped her rosarius, her voice a low, frantic whisper of prayers to the Golden Throne. They stepped onto a massive, grime-slicked industrial lift. As the gears groaned to life, the world suddenly... stopped.
The roaring of the Hive's machinery vanished. The dripping of toxic sludge froze in mid-air. Sister Shandra was caught mid-blink, a statue of holy desperation. Hek'tan tried to move, but his power armor—a ton of ceramite and hydraulic muscle—was locked in a stasis field more absolute than any he had ever encountered.
"What sorcery is this?" he rumbled, his voice a low, dangerous growl.
A screen of shimmering, Royal Blue light manifested before his eyes. It was not the jagged green of an Ork interface or the flickering static of a vox-link. It was clean. It was ancient. It was absolute.
[♰ THE LEDGER OF THE ********** ♰]
SYSTEM INITIALIZED. AUTHORITY: THE PRIME *********** (ABSOLUTE).
MESSAGE: *"You have been chosen by the ******** to be put into the multiversal group chat for the ********."
[♰ UPVOTE TO ACCEPT THE CHANCE ♰] [♰ DOWNVOTE TO REMAIN IN THE ASHES ♰]
In another world a world of flying gods and dark knights a Miss Diana prince sat alone in her libaray as she read reports and catalogued tales of the dark knight of Gotham and the Scarlett ghost of S.T.A.R City she also catalogued reports of a strange man able to do extraordinary feats of strength and speed
Diana was a woman of progress and thought she had seen war defeated ares and sent him to the underworld and set the world right by saving it during World War Two what she didn't realize was how fractured and fragile the world of man was but also of how hopeful it was it was the year 2016 and man was still getting its feet on the ground they loved laughed and fought but still they strived for the future with all its glory no matter how bleak it was
And that was admirable to say the least if at times misguided but who was she to say that she was from a world of heroes and gods and myths to her the thought of planes and cars was foolhardy but in the year 2016 she was proven wrong Diana Prince sat in the soft light of her library. The smell of old parchment and the hum of a modern world just outside her window were a comfort. She was a bridge between the ancient and the new, recording the deeds of these "Metahumans" who were beginning to emerge like stars in a dark sky.
She reached for a glass of water, but her fingers never touched it.
The dust motes dancing in a sunbeam froze. The ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner died. The distant sound of Paris traffic vanished, replaced by a silence so heavy it felt like the weight of a mountain.
Diana stood slowly, her Amazonian instincts screaming. This was not the trickery of Ares. This was not the speed of the red ghost.
The air in front of her desk didn't ripple; it simply changed. A sheet of Royal Blue light, as solid as marble and as thin as silk, hovered over her leather-bound journals.
[♰ THE LEDGER OF THE ********** ♰]
SYSTEM INITIALIZED. AUTHORITY: THE PRIME *********** (ABSOLUTE).
MESSAGE: *"You have been chosen by the ******** to be put into the multiversal group chat for the *******."
[♰ UPVOTE TO ACCEPT THE CHANCE ♰] [♰ DOWNVOTE TO REMAIN IN THE ASHES ♰]
Diana's eyes narrowed. She recognized the Times New Roman font—it carried the dignity of a royal decree, yet the technology behind it felt millions of years ahead of anything she had seen in Man's world. She reached out, her hand steady, and pressed the golden [UPVOTE].
in another world of duels and shadow games.
Yugi Muto sat on the deck, his small frame trembling. His knees were bruised against the hard wood, but the pain in his chest was sharper. He watched the white foam of the wake, knowing that somewhere in that dark water, his grandfather's legacy—the five pieces of Exodia the Forbidden One—were sinking into the abyss.
He had been too kind. Too trusting. Weevil Underwood had looked him in the eye with a mask of friendship, only to cast his cards aside like trash. Without Exodia, the climb to the Duelist Kingdom felt impossible. His grandfather's soul was trapped by Pegasus, and Joey's sister, Serenity, was going blind. The money for her surgery, the hope for his family—it was all slipping away with the tide.
"I'm a fool," Yugi whispered, his voice breaking. "I've lost everything."
Beside him, the Millennium Puzzle around his neck began to pulse. It wasn't the usual golden heat of the Pharaoh; it was a cold, sharp vibration.
The world didn't just stop; it drained of color. The sound of the engine died. The spray of the ocean hung in the air like jagged diamonds, frozen in a silent explosion. Yugi looked up, his eyes wide.
Floating above the railing of the yacht, right where Weevil had thrown the cards, was a rectangular plane of light. It was a Royal Blue that felt deeper than the ocean, and on it, text was appearing in a crisp, sharp font he had only seen in his textbooks.
Times New Roman.
[♰ THE LEDGER OF THE ********** ♰]
SYSTEM INITIALIZED. AUTHORITY: THE PRIME *********** (ABSOLUTE).
MESSAGE: "A game is not won by the hand you are dealt, Yugi Muto, but by the will to reshape the board. The *********** sees your despair. He offers a seat at a different table."
[♰ UPVOTE TO ACCEPT THE CHANCE ♰] > [♰ DOWNVOTE TO REMAIN IN THE ASHES ♰]
Yugi stared at the word "**********." He felt a presence within the puzzle—the spirit of the Pharaoh—shifting, alert. The Pharaoh didn't sense a shadow game. He sensed a Law.
Yugi reached out, his hand shaking. If there was even a chance to save Serenity, to save his Grandpa... he had to take it. He pressed the [UPVOTE].
Malibu city 2010
Tony Stark hummed along to the grinding rhythm of Back in Black by AC/DC played in the background, the arc reactor in his chest casting a steady, pale blue light over his workbench. He was currently fine-tuning the flight stabilizers for the Mark VI. Two years. Two days since Obadiah Stane tried to bury him, and two days since he told the world he was a superhero.
Nick Fury had come to him with a folder and a dream of a "big team," but Tony wasn't a team player. He was the sun; everyone else just orbited. He had turned the Director down with a cocktail in one hand and a quip in the other. He had the suit, he had the money, and he had the world on a string.
"JARVIS," Tony said, spinning a digital screwdriver through a holographic interface. "Remind me to buy Fury a 'World's Best Secret Agent' mug. Maybe it'll cheer him up after I bruised his ego."
"I shall add it to your 'To-Do' list, right below 'Solve World Peace' and 'Remember to eat a vegetable,' sir," the AI replied.
Tony smirked. He reached for a glass of green juice, but his fingers never closed around it.
The music didn't just stop—it was erased. The thumping bass of the speakers died into a silence so absolute it felt like a physical pressure on his eardrums. In the corner of the room, a rogue spark from DUM-E's welding arm hung in mid-air, a jagged orange splinter of light that refused to fall.
Tony froze. He blinked, expecting a dizzy spell, but his vision was sharper than ever. "JARVIS? If this is a prank, it's a good one. Very 'The Day the Earth Stood Still.' Give me a status report."
Silence.
Tony stood up, his hand moving toward the gauntlet on the table. Before he could touch it, the air in front of him shimmered. It wasn't the orange, circular sparks of a portal or the flickering blue of a hologram. It was a solid, Royal Blue pane of light that felt older than the Earth itself.
The text appeared in crisp, black strokes. Times New Roman.
[♰ THE LEDGER OF THE ********** ♰]
SYSTEM INITIALIZED. AUTHORITY: THE PRIME *********** (ABSOLUTE).
MESSAGE: "Mr. Stark. You believe you have secured your world. You believe your suits are the pinnacle of evolution. You are wrong. You are a child playing with fire in a house made of dry hay. The ********** has a use for your mind. Upvote, and see the true machine."
[♰ UPVOTE TO RECODE REALITY ♰] [♰ DOWNVOTE TO REMAIN IN THE ASHES ♰]
Tony stared at the words. His ego flared, but curiosity won. "A house made of hay, huh? I usually prefer glass." He looked at the [UPVOTE] symbol. It thrummed with a power that made his arc reactor spin faster.
"Well," Tony muttered, a sharp, dangerous glint in his eye. "Let's see if your OS is better than mine."
He tapped the [UPVOTE]
The Shadow: New York City, 2010
In the overgrown backyard of a nondescript New York safehouse, the air was filled with the rhythmic whoosh of wood cutting through the humid air. Mindy Macready—known to the underworld as Hit-Girl—moved with a fluid, lethal grace that belied her age.
Sweat glistened on her forehead, stinging her eyes, but she didn't break her form. She was currently drilling Chinese swordsmanship, her small hands gripped tightly around a wooden dao. Her father, Big Daddy, had gone out for groceries and "logistics," leaving her to maintain their relentless training schedule. Every strike, every parry, was a prayer to the memory of her mother—and a promise of pain to the men who had destroyed their lives.
She executed a perfect butterfly kick, the dao spinning in a blur of brown wood, when the world simply... locked.
The cicadas in the nearby trees went silent mid-chirp. A bead of sweat that had been rolling down her cheek stayed pinned to her skin, unmoving. Mindy tried to complete her swing, but her muscles felt as though they were encased in solid concrete.
"Dad?" she tried to yell, but the sound died in her throat.
Directly in front of her, hovering inches from the tip of her wooden sword, a Royal Blue pane of light flickered into existence. It wasn't the neon glow of a TV or the flare of a flashbang. It was ancient and cold. The text was sharp, black, and impossibly clear: Times New Roman.
[♰ THE LEDGER OF THE ********** ♰]
SYSTEM INITIALIZED. AUTHORITY: THE PRIME *********** (ABSOLUTE).
MESSAGE: "Mindy Macready. You train with wood to spill blood. You seek justice for a ghost while the world around you decays. You are a weapon in a war of insects. The *********** offers you a seat at the table of giants. Upvote, and become more than a shadow."
[♰ UPVOTE TO ASCEND ♰] [♰ DOWNVOTE TO REMAIN IN THE ASHES ♰]
Mindy stared at the floating window. She didn't know who "The *********" was, but the message felt like a dare. And Mindy Macready never backed down from a dare. If this meant being a better weapon—if this meant protecting what was left of her family—she was in.
She nudged the [UPVOTE] symbol with the tip of her wooden dao.
In Rome (1503) in a world shrouded in mystery and assasination
The air was thick with the scent of incense and the metallic tang of blood. Ezio Auditore da Firenze stood atop the crumbling parapets of the Castel Sant'Angelo. Below him, the Borgia's influence rotted the heart of Italy, and the Apple of Eden thrummed against his belt with a dangerous, golden warmth.
He was mid-leap—a Leap of Faith into the haystacks far below—when the world died.
The wind rushing past his ears ceased. His body hung suspended in the air, a white-clad eagle frozen against a twilight sky. The frantic shouts of the Papal Guards below were silenced. Even the Apple, that ancient piece of technology, fell dormant.
"What is this?" Ezio whispered, his breath visible in the frozen air. "Another trick of the Precurors?"
But this was not the Apple's gold. It was a Royal Blue light that bled into the sky, forming a window of light directly in his path. The text was sharp, clean—Times New Roman.
[♰ THE LEDGER OF THE ********** ♰]
SYSTEM INITIALIZED. AUTHORITY: THE PRIME *********** (ABSOLUTE).
MESSAGE: "Grandmaster Auditore. You fight to keep the world in the dark so that it may serve the light. But the darkness is growing beyond your Brotherhood's reach. The Architect offers you a Leap into the Infinite."
[♰ UPVOTE TO JOIN THE CREED ♰] [♰ DOWNVOTE TO FALL INTO ASHES ♰]
Ezio looked at the message. He had spent his life chasing shadows and truth. This felt like the ultimate Truth. "Nulla è reale, tutto è lecito," he murmured. Nothing is real, everything is permitted. He reached out and tapped the [UPVOTE].
Earthrealm, 20XX
The air at the Wu Shi Academy was thin and sweet with the scent of mountain pines. In the center of a stone courtyard, surrounded by statues of ancestors long turned to dust, sat Liu Kang.
He remained in a perfect lotus position, his breathing so shallow it was nearly undetectable. To any observer, he was a statue of bronze and silk. Inwardly, he was a roaring kiln of chi. As the sole strongest guardian of Earthrealm, he was the thin line between peace and the eternal conflict of the realms. He had faced sorcerers, emperors, and gods, yet his greatest battle was always the one within—keeping the fire of the dragon focused and pure.
He began to rise, his muscles uncoiling with the grace of a predator, when the universe held its breath.
The falling cherry blossoms from the trees above froze mid-air, pink petals suspended like shards of glass. The distant ringing of the temple bells stopped on a half-note. The heat of the sun on his shoulders vanished, replaced by a profound, cosmic chill.
Liu Kang opened his eyes. He did not reach for a weapon; he was the weapon. He felt a presence that dwarfed the Elder Gods—a Will that did not come from Outworld or the Netherrealm, but from the void between realities.
A sheet of Royal Blue light manifested before him. It was as steady as the earth and as vast as the sky. The script was stark and unyielding: Times New Roman.
[♰ THE LEDGER OF THE ********** ♰]
SYSTEM INITIALIZED. AUTHORITY: THE PRIME *********** (ABSOLUTE).
MESSAGE: "Chosen One. You guard a single realm against the shadows of a single sun. But the Great Game of the Chaos Gods seeks to extinguish all light in all worlds. Your fire is needed elsewhere. The ************ has summoned the Vanguard. Upvote, and defend the Infinite."
[♰ UPVOTE TO BALANCE THE SCALES ♰] [♰ DOWNVOTE TO REMAIN IN THE ASHES ♰]
Liu Kang looked at the petals frozen around him. He sensed no malice in the light, only a terrifying, absolute Order. If the fire within him was a gift, then it belonged to all who suffered under the darkness.
"For the realms," he whispered.
He pressed his palm against the [UPVOTE].