Chapter 10: The False God

  There he was.

  The one who called himself “God.”

  Standing on the balcony of his ship.

  He looked at the dome calmly.

  He wasn’t in a hurry.

  He was absurdly relaxed—hands in the pockets of his coat, a serene smile on his face.

  He wasn’t even releasing his aura. Having him right there in front of us was all it took.

  To spread terror.

  And he knew it.

  That’s why he paused briefly before continuing the “show.”

  More tension.

  More emotion.

  The camera broadcasting this to the entire world floated quietly around him.

  “Hehe. Tough crowd?”

  No one dared interrupt the False God.

  “How long has it been since we last saw each other, Katherine? Was it twenty years? I could’ve sworn it’s only been a little over three weeks—almost four… Immortality problems, I guess?”

  The silence of the void deepened.

  We all knew what was coming.

  His smile widened, as if he knew a joke only he could hear.

  “But no welcoming committee? Tch. You have to try harder, Katherine.” His expression turned playful. He was enjoying it—of course he was.

  “You should greet me with a parade.”

  Out of nowhere, confetti, fireworks, and even music appeared, punctuating his exclamation.

  “Dinamo… could this be another fallen dome?” The answer was obvious, but that didn’t make it any easier to endure.

  I was in my office, in the central dome.

  I’d been reviewing reports on the progress of my latest projects.

  Looking for a way forward. A way for humanity to surpass him.

  My reliable assistant had brought me promising results.

  It was a quiet day. Until now.

  Dinamo always found a way to torment humans.

  It seemed we were about to lose another dome.

  “How many was it by now?”

  I’d like to say I didn’t know—that at some point I lost count.

  But I couldn’t lie to myself.

  I remembered every single dome that had fallen.

  All four hundred and ninety-two of them.

  And not just the domes.

  I remembered the faces of everyone who served under me in each of them, too.

  For an instant, an imposing bearded man rose before Dinamo.

  Alone… and yet, his equal.

  The blurry memory vanished as quickly as it came.

  “Only two will remain when this one falls.”

  It sounded bitter, but there wasn’t much to be done.

  Not when that monster decided.

  I had already ordered my AIs to monitor the situation and support the retreat.

  It would be difficult, with teleport interference and the battle already underway.

  All that was left was to hope our forces could hold most of the conflict while the civilians evacuated.

  But I knew how this ended: the casualties would be massive. If not absolute.

  As they always were.

  Sometimes I wondered if there was any point in evacuating civilians with almost no value, but I knew it was better not to go down that path.

  “Though the last evacuation was practically successful by our standards. Could this be the same?” Hard to say. It all depended on Dinamo’s mood.

  “No answer? Aaah, Kathy, Kathy, Kathy… where are your manners? You could at least open the door for me. It’s cold out here, you know?”

  Dinamo hugged himself, pretending to shiver, as he made all the nonsense around him vanish—replacing it with snow.

  “Here we go again… doesn’t he ever get tired of these meaningless shows?”

  No answer.

  Dinamo continued his performance. He stepped off the ship, floating directly above the dome—acting impatient and offended.

  “Fine! If you won’t open it… I’ll do it myself.”

  Out of nowhere, Dinamo produced a small black sphere.

  “How did he make them so fast?”

  I couldn’t believe it. Last time it took him six hundred years to make enough to break a dome.

  “It hasn’t even been half a century… barely twenty years. How did he create them so quickly?”

  Spheres of near-infinite speed.

  That’s what Dinamo called them.

  Spheres capable of reaching speeds far beyond light.

  On impact, they absorbed ninety-nine percent of the collision’s kinetic energy, generating another impact.

  They repeated this process until they collapsed.

  The domes—though they looked fragile—possessed a resistance beyond anything achievable with conventional technology.

  Ever since he created them, Dinamo always used them to annihilate a dome, because of their extreme effectiveness.

  “Surprised, Kathy? You shouldn’t be.”

  “You know how amazing I am.”

  “There’s nothing I can’t achieve… given time, of course.”

  Dinamo spun the black sphere in his hand like a marble.

  It slid between his fingers with almost artistic dexterity.

  “How much time has passed, Kathy?”

  “What’s the point of continuing to fight? At this stage.”

  “Do you even have anything left worth defending?”

  “But I suppose that’s fine.”

  “I’ll never understand the weak—or your affection for them.”

  “I preferred you the way you were before… when we first met.”

  He lifted his gaze, eyes fixed on the dome.

  He looked at it as if it were a memory, an open wound… or maybe a museum piece.

  “Want to know something interesting, Kathy…?”

  His eyes gleamed with a playful reddish tone, as if an invisible orchestra were tuning its instruments.

  “The end is near.”

  “This pathetic game… is approaching an abrupt finale.”

  “A shame, if you ask me.”

  He smiled with nostalgia, like a conductor before the final act.

  “I will enjoy… with my entire being… these last three domes.”

  “And I sincerely hope you can join me, Kathy.”

  “In this final piece.”

  “Three movements.”

  He made an exaggerated bow.

  Then he raised his arm, setting it at a perfect angle.

  The sphere rested in his hand, visible to all.

  He wanted the world to see it.

  To know what it was about to lose.

  “Don’t worry, humans…”

  “I haven’t forgotten about you.”

  His smile widened.

  But he didn’t release the sphere.

  Not yet.

  “I’d love to invite you to this dance—to this first act.”

  He slowly rotated his hand, as if beginning an invisible waltz.

  “But do you have what it takes…”

  The sphere trembled at the edge of his palm.

  “…to stand before me?”

  And then he let it go.

  As so many times in the past, I witnessed its fall.

  Time stopped.

  Space warped.

  The sphere moved slowly.

  An effect of its immense speed.

  It approached the dome with an illusory slowness.

  From an outside perspective, it might look like hours, days, even years passing.

  But it was only an instant.

  Space creaked when sound formed in the vacuum.

  The sphere struck the dome with the mass of a galaxy.

  An unimaginable shockwave expanded.

  Then it stopped.

  The sphere’s complex internal mechanism activated, making the kinetic energy of the first impact converge—

  Into another.

  And another.

  Another.

  It wasn’t until the eleventh impact that it finally collapsed.

  And the dome?

  Cracks began to form in the affected area.

  Faint cracks—but cracks nonetheless.

  They would take a few moments to heal. Time we didn’t have.

  The dome wasn’t the only thing affected.

  Even though the sphere could absorb ninety-nine percent of the kinetic energy, there were still residues.

  The remnants of the shockwave arrived immediately.

  Dinamo casually created a space-time isolation barrier around himself. It withstood the residual shockwaves without any trouble.

  Behind him, the ship wasn’t as lucky.

  It rippled, like a stone thrown into a pond—then shattered down to the atomic level.

  Leaving no trace.

  The Rank 10s accompanying him tried to escape.

  They fled in every direction and plane possible. But there was no avoiding the inevitable.

  Some died from the slightest contact. They’d probably reached Rank 10 only recently.

  Others held on a bit longer—even while taking the full brunt of the continuing shockwaves.

  But only a tiny fraction endured the spatial tearing.

  And that was only the first wave. The first sphere.

  No one knew if they could survive the ones that would come next.

  Dinamo glanced at them with contempt on his face.

  “Oh, I almost forgot the barrier. We don’t want the innocents to suffer, right? What would my poor spectators do without me?”

  As if it were an afterthought, Dinamo exclaimed toward the camera.

  With a casual gesture—just for the theatrics—a powerful barrier appeared, protecting both the planet and the sun.

  The barrier handled the spatial distortion without issue.

  “How considerate of me, wouldn’t you say? Hehe.”

  Dinamo burst into laughter, releasing another sphere that repeated the same process.

  “Last time he needed twenty-three. How many will he need now?”

  But that didn’t matter in this moment.

  I had already ordered all civilians and all personnel below Rank 8 to prepare for a retreat to the central dome.

  With teleporters unavailable, only physical methods remained.

  We’d have to wait until the dome collapsed to begin the evacuation.

  Even though it all felt like a pointless effort.

  “There’s still one problem.”

  I could have given the order, and my androids were already in motion to complete the preparations.

  But we didn’t have time.

  Not even close.

  It might look like we had a generous margin before Dinamo released enough spheres to break the dome.

  But we didn’t.

  If we were lucky, it would take him more than a Planck time to do it.

  The second sphere struck.

  The dome held—for now.

  Dinamo stretched his arms like a master of ceremonies.

  “Easy, easy. I know many of you aren’t at the level to appreciate this masterpiece in real time.”

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  He looked straight into the camera.

  “So, as an act of mercy, I’ve slowed down the broadcast enough that even a miserable Rank 1 can enjoy the show.”

  He made a dramatic pause, as if waiting for applause.

  Which appeared out of nowhere.

  “Tell me I’m not amazing.”

  He took a few steps in the air, walking as if he were on an invisible stage.

  “Katherine, dear… are you still there? Or did you already turn off the transmission like the professional coward you are?”

  Silence.

  “Well, it doesn’t matter. The director speaks in silence.”

  He raised another sphere, rolling it between his fingers as if it were a glass of wine.

  “Let’s go for the third, yeah?”

  “Don’t worry—I’ve got more.”

  “Each one with eleven taps. It’s a slow process. You’ll have to be patient.”

  “So I thought: why not take the chance to chat a little?”

  He put a hand to his chest in fake modesty.

  “After all, I’m an excellent host.”

  He probably loved the sound of his own voice.

  His smile widened.

  “Want to know what amuses me about you humans?”

  He paused, as if the silence itself was part of the suspense.

  “Your persistence.”

  The third sphere was released with elegance.

  “You never stop surprising me—how tenacious you are.”

  “How, even after so many years… so much destruction… so many of yours dead at my feet…”

  His smile took on a meaning only I understood.

  I clenched my fists for a moment.

  “That damn monster…”

  “How, after everything you’ve endured…”

  “You still cling to hope.”

  By this point he was already finishing the fourth and was about to throw the fifth.

  “Hope.”

  “What a strange word.”

  He put on a sad expression, like he truly felt hurt. A sign reading “tears” appeared behind him.

  “‘Hope is the last thing to die,’ right?”

  “I guess when you’re mediocre, you hold onto it because you’ve got nothing else.”

  “But some—some carry it in their bones. They drag it through hell.”

  “And that… that’s a different story.”

  He dropped the sixth sphere.

  “Why wait? I can’t understand it.”

  He clenched his fists. His red eyes flared like fire.

  “If you want something—do it!”

  “Don’t waste your time waiting for a better future.”

  He was already on the ninth.

  “But don’t misunderstand me, Kathy.”

  “Even if I think your hope is a waste of time, I genuinely acknowledge your efforts.”

  “I don’t think your tenacity is pointless.”

  “In fact, I find it very entertaining. Ha, ha.”

  “And yes—I respect you too. Seriously.”

  Dinamo laughed sincerely as he released the tenth.

  “After all…”

  He touched the scar on his cheek, then traced—over his clothes—a straight line down to his torso.

  Pointing at… my greatest achievement.

  And… my greatest failure.

  “One of yours did this.”

  His voice carried a melancholic tone, as if the memory made him nostalgic.

  My grip tightened.

  “One who carried all your hopes. And he didn’t fail.”

  “He was the only one who managed to mark me. The only one I couldn’t defeat. For him alone, you have my respect.”

  “Let me be clear—I don’t admire all of you.”

  He raised his hand and pointed downward, toward the cities.

  “Those who crawl after fleeting pleasures.”

  “Those who accepted living on their knees, waiting for heroes to do the dirty work.”

  “They disgust me.”

  His eyes burned.

  “I respect those who stay standing.”

  “Even if they’re broken.”

  “Even if they’ve already lost.”

  “Those are the only humans worth watching… before I crush them.”

  With that declaration, the thirteenth sphere had fallen.

  The faint cracks on the dome were becoming sharper, more pronounced.

  Dinamo fell silent for a moment.

  Only the dull thud of the fourteenth sphere—followed by the fifteenth—broke the calm.

  “Well…”

  “Things got serious, huh?”

  He let out a small laugh, amused and relaxed, as he spun the next sphere on his index finger.

  “I sound like one of those tragic villains. The kind that needs to justify every explosion with some past trauma.”

  He turned his head toward the camera.

  “Don’t worry, I don’t have flashbacks. I’m not going to start ranting about how humans ruined the world and therefore must die.”

  And with a soft gesture, he let the sixteenth fall.

  “Want to know the funniest part?”

  His voice lowered slightly, like he was sharing a secret.

  “Sometimes I wonder if you actually believe you can stop me. And I’m not saying that out of arrogance—though, partly, I am. Hehe.”

  “I’m saying it because you’re still watching.”

  “And if you watch a god destroy your world without lifting a finger… what does that make you?”

  He smiled, calmer than ever.

  “Oh, right. A spectator.”

  Dinamo slowly turned in the air, as if considering a dance step.

  “Maybe I should’ve dressed worse for this.”

  He glanced at his long coat—bright, golden-yellow, gleaming even in the vacuum of space.

  “Not that I don’t love it, but sometimes I feel like gold makes me look too imposing. Shame you can’t appreciate it properly down there.”

  “Oh, Katherine… remind me to come in pajamas next time, yeah?”

  He released the seventeenth sphere with a casual motion.

  “Though, now that I think about it, this outfit is perfect for a waltz.”

  He began to move through the air, turning in a smooth dance, one arm extended as if holding an invisible partner.

  “Yes, that’s it. A funeral waltz. One sphere per measure. And the dome as the dance floor.”

  The eighteenth sphere fell on the second turn, in time with his laughter.

  “What do you think they’re doing down there right now, huh?”

  “Hiding? Praying? Recording one last message for their loved ones?”

  His voice dropped to an almost mocking tone as he stared at the dome’s surface with feigned melancholy. Cracks kept forming all over it.

  “Human creativity always goes down the drain when the end gets close. I would’ve done something more artistic. Fireworks. Statues. A poem.”

  He shrugged and snapped his fingers, sending the nineteenth sphere down like he was striking a spark.

  Then he looked back at the camera.

  “You still there?”

  Silence.

  “Watching, recording, studying, learning?”

  He tilted his head, like an actor breaking character for a second.

  “I don’t blame you. I’d watch this too. A world’s fall from the best seat in the house.”

  The smile returned—feral. He looked like he was on the edge of madness.

  “But don’t get distracted. My favorite is coming.”

  He spun once on himself and extended his hand toward the starry sky.

  “Number twenty…”

  The sphere appeared as if answering his call.

  “Round. Perfect. Like a final note.”

  And with a grace that bordered on reverence, he let it fall.

  “Phew.”

  I was tired.

  I watched the transmission with a mixture of resignation and expectation.

  I was already beginning to take control of one of my androids inside the dome. A second-rate model. But it would be enough.

  I had a few surprises prepared for Dinamo. I hoped he would “enjoy” them.

  I suppose they could also be considered a thank-you gift.

  In his infinite arrogance, he had given us a little more than a Planck time.

  In fact, it almost brushed a Zeiger second.

  An outdated unit of measure…

  These days even Planck seconds had become obsolete. Time itself had become obsolete, in general.

  At least, the way we measured it.

  Now everything was recorded through a quantum imprint—a way to make sense of an event that lasted less than any unit could describe.

  Pulling my thoughts back on track, I analyzed the reports on the evacuation’s progress.

  We had to coordinate everything perfectly.

  Once the dome collapsed, the most valuable assets would leave first: archives, irreplaceable technology, and classified projects.

  I had already prepared a special route for those devices.

  Then would come civilian extraction.

  The dome had a population of a little over sixty billion people.

  All of them would be digitized and transported in special compartments.

  The problem was the same as always: we didn’t have enough personnel to do it fast enough.

  Under normal conditions, it would take us two full days—if we were optimistic.

  “And there was also that… should I consider it a relief?”

  I felt guilty thinking it, but about thirty percent of the population had buckled under the pressure and committed suicide.

  I knew it was wrong, but I was grateful they’d done it. It made logistics and planning much easier.

  “Ahh. If hell truly exists, there’s definitely a place reserved for me. I just hope it’s far away from that damn monster.”

  “Still, it was less than last time… that’s something.”

  “Boss, you look stressed. If you want, I can handle things from here while you get ready for your fight.”

  My reliable assistant walked in, wearing a worried expression.

  “Thank you, Eida. I’ll leave it to you.”

  “Don’t mention it.”

  Without another word, I closed my eyes and connected to the android that was already prepared, with iron certainty:

  “I won’t give up. Not now.”

  Dinamo held sphere number twenty-one with a brief pause. His smile had shrunk a little—not out of concern, but boredom.

  “It’s still holding…? How stubborn.”

  He threw it without drama. One more strike.

  Sphere twenty-two appeared between his fingers as if it had always been there.

  “You know, Katherine. If it weren’t for you, I would’ve gotten tired of this a long time ago. Without you, there are no humans left worth anything beyond their effort.”

  “At least, I don’t know any.”

  He dropped it with disdain, like tossing a stone into water to see if it skips.

  As he rolled number twenty-three between his fingers, his voice grew lower:

  “Don’t get your hopes up. It’s not like you’re anything special. Just another challenger. An equal in name only. Another one who’ll fall before me.”

  “Like all the others.”

  Number twenty-four vibrated differently. Denser. More unstable.

  “Feel that? The dome isn’t singing anymore. It’s screaming.”

  He brought it to his lips like a glass, then let it go with a sigh.

  When the last sphere rested in his palm, Dinamo closed his eyes.

  “Twenty-five. No more. This is the end. It’s over.”

  His gaze ignited again—not with rage. With anticipation.

  “Let’s begin the first act.”

  And he released it.

  That one struck like no other.

  The most powerful yet.

  The most powerful I had ever seen.

  I watched the dome shudder. Deep cracks ran across its surface like veins about to burst. For a second, I thought it would collapse.

  But it didn’t.

  Not this time.

  It held.

  Dinamo didn’t blink.

  He laughed.

  A laugh without control.

  Not from amusement. From hunger.

  I watched him clutch his ribs, playing it up theatrically.

  “Ahh… it’s been a while since I’ve laughed like that. And now what, you wonder? What will the helpless god do to avoid losing face?”

  He opened his arms, as if embracing the sky.

  “Well, I guess it’s time to improvise, isn’t it?”

  His body began to glow. Golden. Violent.

  I already knew it: he was activating his conceptual ability.

  The concept of Creation.

  He could create anything—from organic to inorganic. From real to impossible. The limit was his imagination.

  I watched the golden gas surge from his body in massive quantities.

  And then one of his favorite weapons appeared:

  A hammer.

  Exaggerated. Unstable. Lethal. Ridiculous. Effective.

  It literally looked like a rocket taped to a stick.

  “Why don’t we start…” he said, dropping at a monstrous speed, “…with what everyone came to see?”

  He fell like a human meteor. The hammer glowed with grotesque, living energy.

  It was more than an impact.

  It was a statement.

  A shockwave expanded like an invisible fist punching the fabric of the universe.

  The dome’s plates creaked like a funeral hymn.

  Thirty-eight millimeters.

  That was the thickness that held.

  And I held my breath, waiting for the next blow.

  I froze.

  “It was the same mechanism as the spheres.”

  I recognized it by the pulse pattern—by the way energy chained itself, replicating impact after impact like an endless echo.

  But no. That wasn’t possible.

  “Since when can he replicate them like this—so easily?”

  My sensors weren’t lying.

  A conceptual hammer, created in seconds, replicating a technology that had taken centuries to develop.

  “Does this confirm it?”

  The dome’s structure endured the first impact.

  The second.

  The third.

  And it reached the thirteenth.

  Then it collapsed.

  But it did so with dignity.

  The layers of the dome fractured outward, not inward.

  The energy was redirected—channeled, dispersed—by protection mechanisms activated at the last moment.

  The structure sacrificed itself.

  But it didn’t allow anyone inside to be harmed.

  Not a single life lost.

  The dome did its best.

  And it succeeded.

  But there was no dome left.

  When the indigo light faded, the hammer was gone.

  Not by choice.

  It had been reduced to dust, unable to sustain the cost of its own power.

  And Dinamo—

  Dinamo floated before the crater.

  No arms.

  Both had been torn off in the process, vaporized by the energetic backlash.

  His silhouette trembled for an instant.

  Just an instant.

  Then the golden gas surged again.

  Slow. Dense. Elegant.

  And as if nothing had happened, new arms grew from his torso.

  Muscle, bone, skin, coating.

  All recreated.

  Perfect.

  Symmetrical.

  As if he had never lost them.

  I stood still.

  “Did he improve that much in so little time… or was he always like this?”

  Dinamo descended among the crater’s remains.

  Plates floated around him like fragments of a shattered castle.

  But inside, everything was still standing.

  And then something lit up.

  A final emission from the dome’s operational core.

  Barely detectable.

  A weak signal—like an exhale before death.

  Across every internal frequency, a voice sounded.

  Not human.

  Not emotional.

  But not empty, either.

  “Containment Unit 492 deactivated. Evacuation protocol complete. Human losses due to collapse: zero. Full record archived. Preparing compression for universal transmission. Thank you, Commander. It has been an honor.”

  Silence.

  It was the dome’s secondary AI.

  A local support unit with a single purpose: protect until the end.

  And it had done it.

  It didn’t save the structure.

  But it saved lives.

  And in its own code, that was an absolute victory.

  I inclined my head slightly toward the broadcast.

  “Good work.”

  I said nothing else.

  That gesture was enough.

  A way to acknowledge that even in destruction, that dome had fulfilled its purpose better than expected.

  The transmission cut.

  And I turned my attention back to Dinamo, now descending toward the city’s center.

  Hands in his pockets.

  This wasn’t over.

  It had begun.

  Dinamo walked through the intact city.

  Not a crack.

  Not a fallen structure.

  Only the sound of his steps, echoing between towers of glass and steel, beneath a sky the dome still simulated with perfect fidelity.

  The camera floated close, broadcasting.

  The whole world saw him.

  “Ah. The art of humans.”

  He spread his arms, spinning on his heels.

  His golden coat rippled.

  “Look at this. Vertical hives. Suspended routes. Smart materials. Elegant forms.”

  He stopped before a fountain still running.

  The water fell in perfect spirals, ignoring the fact that its protector no longer existed.

  “Isn’t it wonderful?”

  “Humans have always been mediocre at almost everything. But building cities? Ah. That’s where you surpass yourselves.”

  He smiled, ironic.

  “My übermensch… they could never build this. They don’t even have the capacity to understand this place. They don’t understand the purpose of a city like this. What a shame.”

  I stopped before an animated mural.

  A holographic display showed children running among floating trees.

  And it pulled memories from me.

  “And then they say you’re not a species worthy of extinction,” Dinamo said, laughing. “A shame your works are more beautiful than you are.”

  The hum of thrusters broke the silence. Three figures landed with millimetric precision.

  Two Rank 8s and one Rank 9. Their immaculate suits barely hid their fear. But even so, they held firm. Ready to face him. Ready to die.

  Dinamo looked at them and tilted his head, expression unchanged.

  “Ah,” he whispered. “Look at that. Three humans. No chance. No escape. But here you are.”

  He put a hand to his chest with that fake modesty he loved so much.

  “Ready to die in the name of a lost cause.”

  Isn’t it beautiful?”

  He studied them one by one.

  “Brave. Ridiculous, but brave. I can respect that feat. Not everyone can stand before me.”

  He turned his gaze forward.

  I was approaching from the shadows.

  Hair tied back. Stern eyes.

  Buttoned shirt. Officer’s coat.

  Me. Or at least, an exact copy.

  An android. But every detail had been perfectly replicated.

  Dinamo noticed immediately.

  I saw his smile widen. His eyes lit up with that irritating gleam.

  “Oh. This is getting interesting. This is what I came for.”

  I stopped in front of him. Dinamo completely ignored my soldiers, too entertained watching me.

  I gave him a nod.

  A brief, solemn gesture.

  He raised an eyebrow, amused.

  “A greeting? So soon? Did you finally fall in love? Hehe.”

  I stopped looking at him. Turned to the three soldiers around him.

  My gaze softened. I smiled at them as warmly as I could.

  “Good work. Now continue the evacuation, please.”

  I didn’t give orders. I didn’t need to. The trust I’d forged in them was enough.

  The three nodded without hesitation, fist closed against their chest.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  They left without turning their backs.

  Every step measured, as if their dignity depended on it.

  Dinamo followed them with his eyes.

  He was smiling.

  “And there they go. Aren’t they cute?”

  But there was no mockery. Only play. He enjoyed being the spectator he always was, watching humanity perform one of his favorite works: stubborn hope.

  Without warning, something changed.

  Eleven figures appeared.

  One to my left. The other ten forming a wide circle around Dinamo.

  Silence followed them.

  Rank 10s—all of them.

  The dome’s protectors.

  Each with specialized gear, their conceptual ability latent, and an implacable will.

  Dinamo slowly turned on his heels, as if evaluating an art gallery.

  “Heh. Now this is what I call a welcome. All that’s missing is alcohol and we’ve got a party.”

  He opened his arms as if expecting applause.

  “A bow, a smile, loyal soldiers, and eleven protectors armed to the teeth.”

  He put a hand to his chest and bowed slightly.

  “Thank you, Katherine. This staging is beautiful. But I’m curious—can you watch them die?”

  Silence settled in.

  I didn’t have to answer that. I had seen so many die by this point that I was irreparably numb.

  My children trembled.

  Not from fear.

  From fury.

  They hated when someone disrespected me.

  “Hehe… you’re still so cold. Like a robot. You get it? A robot. Hahaha…”

  Dinamo was laughing to himself. Clearly trying to provoke them.

  Then he stopped.

  “Why are you acting like a disgusting coward? Come on! I promise I won’t kill you when I defeat you. Drop that stupid metal suit and come face-to-face. Or are you like those miserable humans running away?”

  That provocation caught me off guard. I couldn’t react. I didn’t expect him to push it like that. Even after all this time, he still surprised me.

  “Silence! How dare you, bastard?! I’ll kill you!”

  Unable to bear the taunts any longer, Dimitri snapped. Not literally.

  That would’ve been too much.

  The only reason he didn’t attack was because I still hadn’t given the order. But with just a few words, Dinamo had nearly pushed him over the edge.

  “You should know your place, human,” Dinamo dismissed him with mockery, just to irritate him.

  “As if you weren’t human, False God,” Irina shot back, glancing at Dimitri, trying to calm him down.

  Dinamo laughed again.

  “Don’t compare me to your pathetic species, human. I was born at the top, and I’ll live there forever.”

  His tone changed.

  “But the games are over.”

  For the first time since arriving, Dinamo ignited his aura.

  Power.

  Power beyond anything imaginable flooded the city.

  The power that haunted my dreams when exhaustion became too much to bear.

  Buildings began to collapse.

  Space collapsed.

  Time collapsed.

  Reality itself collapsed.

  I quickly activated the Delay Protocol.

  I had anticipated a situation like this.

  I had installed a sequence of progressive barriers at strategic points where Dinamo might descend—barriers meant to slow the spread of his aura.

  At least for a moment.

  “Hehe. Still standing? Your dogs really are obedient, Katherine. How about this: anyone who survives more than an hour against me gets their life spared. What do you think? Sounds like an attractive reward, doesn’t it?”

  Dinamo looked convinced he was offering a bargain. It was probably just another way to make the “show” more entertaining.

  “Oh—and don’t think I mean an hour from our perspective. I mean a real hour. Reality’s hour. Which would set it at about… a million years from our perception. Hahaha!”

  Dinamo kept laughing as his aura devoured everything.

  But someone stepped forward to speak. The leader of this dome. A title earned through hard work and merit.

  “What if—if one of us is still alive after that hour—you spare the lives of all the innocents in this dome? Sound good, Dinamo?”

  A pause.

  Dinamo looked at him, confused.

  So was I, at that suggestion.

  After a few seconds of silence, Dinamo laughed again.

  “No way. This has to be my lucky day. I haven’t laughed like this in years. You humans are something else. Ahh. But the short answer is no.”

  “And the long answer?”

  Caetano didn’t stop. He kept pressing that monster. No one held him back. Dinamo had been oddly receptive so far—something that didn’t usually happen.

  “Fine! You convinced me. I love your attitude. I’d hire you as a part-time pet… but it looks like Katherine beat me to it.”

  Dinamo offered a new deal.

  “I’ll make you an offer: if someone survives the hour, I’ll spare the lives of everyone who made it beyond one hundred astronomical units. What do you say?”

  He measured him, expectant.

  Apparently, he had recognized him.

  “So quickly?”

  It was rare for Dinamo to accept someone so soon—or ever.

  Especially someone he considered inferior.

  “Sounds fair,” Caetano answered firmly, his nerves barely showing.

  “Ah, what a good day.”

  Dinamo shut off his aura as he stretched.

  “Well, kids—since you’ve been so entertaining, I’ll give you a little gift. Consider it a down payment.”

  “Ten minutes. You get ten minutes where I won’t counterattack. Use them wisely—we wouldn’t want them to go to waste. Hahaha.”

  As he spoke, Dinamo created—using his power—some kind of robot.

  It had a microphone.

  “A commentator?” I’d never seen him do something like this for a show.

  “Greetings to all survivors, believers, traitors, and curious onlookers!”

  “I’m DR-9K, the official commentator of this slaughter sponsored by Dinamo’s greatness. Buckle up (or buckle your coffins), because you’re about to witness a fight that will redefine the concept of ‘useless resistance.’ And remember!”

  “If you blink, you’ll probably die anyway.”

  Yes. A commentator robot. Because of course.

  “Today really is full of surprises.”

  “So? Are you ready? Come on, don’t be shy. I don’t bite—at least not for ten minutes. And they’re real, just to be clear.”

  Caetano stepped forward. All the pieces were in place. As strange as it was, Dinamo had overplayed his confidence and handed us a very valuable gift.

  It was probably all part of his idea of entertainment.

  “You’re saying you’re giving us ten minutes of advantage?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you won’t do anything but dodge—no counterattacks?”

  “Yes.”

  “And it’s ten real minutes?”

  “Yes.”

  “Perfect.”

  “Oh? Are you ready to attack?”

  Dinamo looked even more amused.

  Apparently, Caetano had lived up to his expectations. It would’ve been disappointing otherwise.

  “No.”

  Turning around, Caetano gave me a nod.

  “Well done, big guy,” I said telepathically.

  I couldn’t help smiling with pride. I didn’t like the idea of being the one to point out this plan.

  The big man looked a little embarrassed, but he held firm.

  It was good that Dinamo wasn’t willing to break his word. And that for some inexplicable reason he had gifted ten minutes.

  “Listen, everyone: we have nine minutes and fifty-five seconds. Do everything you can to help with the evacuation.”

  “Yes, ma’am!”

  With that said, we all moved to evacuate the civilians.

  Leaving behind a “helpless” false god. And a group of drones to watch him, even if it wasn’t necessary.

  “Well, that was unexpected. Hahaha.”

  “You can say that again, boss.”

  Both creator and creation burst out laughing.

  “I guess we’ll have a break for commercials. We’ll be back in ten minutes!”

  After that announcement, Dinamo lay down on one of the chunks of rubble and started reading a… book?

  I’d never seen him do that.

  Dinamo looked straight into one of the cameras and waved at me, as if noticing my confusion.

  “Better i stop wasting time on him.”