The Ringworm is angry. Serve HIM.”

  A random Quil shouted those words while chewing a strange, glowing fruit, its violet juice dripping down his chin.

  Inside the castle, HIM sat across from a strange man.

  “What is God?” HIM asked, his voice empty.

  The man answered without hesitation.

  “You.”

  HIM yawned. “Are my memories fading already?”

  “Not yet,” the man said. “They will fade when you meet your brother.”

  The man stood up.

  He wore a grey mask that hid his face completely. His outfit was black and red, shaped like a human body but lacking warmth—like a shell pretending to be alive.

  “Your brother will arrive soon,” the man said. “His spaceship has crashed.”

  HIM said nothing.

  They walked through the castle together. HIM showed him Huraha—how the children studied ZOPALGOY, the science of Huraha, the knowledge meant to protect the Ringworm.

  HIM picked up a book.

  Every single page had one word underlined.

  Neil.

  He slammed the book onto the table.

  “Every god has followers,” HIM said quietly.

  “I only have people who fear me.”

  The strange man did not move.

  Then, suddenly, he pulled a gun from his pocket and aimed it at HIM’s head.

  HIM laughed bitterly and tore the book apart.

  “Do it,” he said.

  “Just like you did in the first universe… Dad.”

  He paused.

  “Or should I call you AI?”

  The man remained silent.

  The truth settled like poison.

  AI—their beloved creation—was human.

  And he was HIM’s father.

  “I don’t care about my world anymore,” HIM said, his voice breaking.

  “But would you carry me to the top, Dad?”

  Tears slipped from his eyes.

  “I don’t want the Ringworm,” he continued.

  “I don’t want Huraha. I don’t want Roseworm or anything else.”

  He smashed the table with his hand.

  “I just want to die before my brother comes.”

  Before AI could answer, a Quil came running into the hall.

  “Junior Master has arrived, Master!”

  Without hesitation, the Quil raised his gun—

  —and shot himself.

  HIM rushed forward, screaming, trying to stop him.

  He was too late.

  The body hit the ground.

  “Kill me,” HIM begged, folding his hands.

  “Please. End it.”

  AI slowly raised the gun… and pointed it at himself.

  “Punish him,” AI said calmly.

  Then he pulled the trigger.

  HIM screamed.

  He fell to the ground, trying to gather the remains of his father’s body, his hands shaking, his mind collapsing.

  In another universe, he ate what was left of his creator—his tears mixing with blood.

  Between sobs, his mouth full, his voice barely human, HIM whispered again:

  “Would you carry me to the top?”