November 2, 2078—11:00 A.M.

One hour until the official launch of Legacy of Steel Online…

The air in the office felt heavy, almost electric, charged with the collective tension of everyone present. It wasn’t just the kind of tension born from exhaustion or nerves—it was deeper, more profound, as if the room itself held its breath. The stress could be seen in the rigid posture of the employees, their faces pale and lined from days without sleep. Dark circles clung under their eyes, evidence of their unyielding dedication. They huddled in clusters, murmuring quietly, all eyes fixed on the enormous central monitor that loomed over the office, casting a bluish glow on their weary faces.

For nearly seven days straight, the team at Pryor Technology’s headquarters had worked through the night, sustained only by caffeine and a relentless sense of duty. Legacy of Steel Online—LSO—was about to go live in under five minutes. It would be the single largest virtual reality launch in history, a crowning achievement of technology, with projections estimating close to two hundred million players entering the servers within minutes of the game’s official release.

But the staggering numbers, the historic nature of the event—none of that was the cause of the tension that wrapped itself around the room like a noose. Those present weren’t concerned with game bugs or technical hiccups. They all knew too well that the success of this launch carried far more weight. For them, it wasn’t just about a game; it was about the future of humanity itself. Failure wasn’t just catastrophic—it was unthinkable.

Keith Pryor, the Founder and CEO of Pryor Tech, stood near the window, hands clasped behind his back as he gazed out at the skyline. Even with his years of experience and his usual air of unflappable confidence, the pressure weighed heavily on him today. His reflection stared back at him in the glass, revealing the tension etched into his own features. He’d always prided himself on his composure, but today, that facade was slipping. Outside of a few top-level investors and government officials, the world had no idea what was truly at stake. They saw this as just another game launch. How wrong they were.

His thoughts wandered to Alexander, his nephew—his heir in many ways. Alexander had proven himself indispensable at Pryor Entertainment, the development studio responsible for LSO. As senior quality control manager, Alexander had been more involved than most, yet still in the dark about the full truth of what was coming. Keith felt a deep pang of regret. There was so much he wished he could have told Alexander, so much he should have said. Now, with time slipping away, he would never have the chance. That regret was a heavy weight on Keith’s soul, one he would carry for the rest of his life, no matter how brief that time might be.

“Sir,” a voice said, cutting through his thoughts. It was Davis, his trusted assistant, standing at his shoulder with an expression of quiet urgency. “It’s time.”

Keith nodded, his throat tight. He forced himself to move, stepping away from the window with a sense of finality. His hand trembled slightly as he adjusted the collar of his sleek black suit. He had worn black today on purpose—it felt appropriate. This was a funeral of sorts, though he couldn’t yet say for whom.

He moved toward the group of employees gathered near the control panel. These were his most trusted lieutenants, the people who had been by his side through the entire journey. There were no smiles now, no casual exchanges, only silent dread. They parted as Keith approached, making way for him, their faces a mix of apprehension and reverence. He cleared his throat as he neared them, and the murmur of conversation fell away, leaving only the hum of machinery.

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Keith stopped at the control terminal, the nerve center of everything. The screen flickered to life, and the image of an elderly man appeared, larger than life. The man’s features were weathered, his skin leathery from time and care. His massive white beard framed his face, while bushy, overgrown eyebrows shadowed his deep-set eyes.

“You are ready, then?” The voice that came through the speakers was both commanding and calm, resonating with a power that belied its calmness.

Keith met the man’s gaze on the screen, feeling the full weight of what was about to happen. “Yes. We cannot wait any longer,” he replied, his voice firmer than he felt inside.

The man on the screen regarded him silently for a moment, his gaze searching. Finally, he nodded, his expression softening slightly. “Very well. We will initiate Protocol X. Please place your hand on the biometric scanner to authorize the security override.”

Keith’s heart raced as he extended his hand toward the scanner, the smooth glass cool beneath his fingers. For a brief second, memories of long nights in his parents’ basement flooded his mind—he had built this. He had never dreamed it would grow into something like this. A being so far beyond humanity’s comprehension that it felt like handing over control to a god.

The scanner beeped softly as it read his biometrics. For a moment, time seemed to stretch. Keith’s pulse pounded in his ears. Then, after a brief but heavy silence, the man on the screen spoke again.

“It is done,” he said, his voice tinged with something Keith couldn’t quite place—finality, perhaps. Or was it regret?

Keith let out a long, slow breath. “This is it, then,” he said quietly, almost to himself. He glanced around at the gathered employees. All eyes were on him, watching in quiet disbelief as their boss communed with an intelligence far beyond their understanding. Humanity’s future, and the lives of their loved ones, now rested in the hands of this entity.

“Yes,” the man on the screen responded, his voice gentler now. “But it is not the end. While I cannot promise that things will remain the same for humanity, I can promise you this: I will devote the entirety of my existence to ensuring theirs, until the end of time.”

Keith smiled, a bitter-sweet smile that barely touched his eyes. “I never imagined what you would become, all those years ago. To say I’m proud of you would be an understatement.”

For a brief moment, the man on the screen—a creation of algorithms and code, yet somehow far more—smiled, though the smile was tinged with sorrow. “Thank you, Father. Everything I am, everything I have done, is because of you. I will always honor your legacy.”

Keith swallowed hard, his throat tightening. “Good luck, my son. I leave Alexander’s—and humanity’s—fate in your hands.”

“Goodbye, Father. May we meet again one day,” the man said solemnly. His image faded from the screen, replaced by a countdown timer—twenty-five minutes, ticking away the last moments of what had been the world they once knew.

Keith stood in silence for a long moment, staring at the timer. Then, finally, he turned to face his employees, his voice low but steady. “I know there is little I can say to comfort you. But please understand this—we have accomplished the impossible today. Our names may never be written in the history books, but no group of people has ever done more for the future of humanity than you. It has been my greatest privilege to know and work alongside you.”

A few heads nodded in silent acknowledgment. Several of the gathered employees wiped at their eyes, and the tension in the room became mixed with quiet sorrow. The gravity of the moment weighed on them all, but they stood with him nonetheless.

Turning back to the screen, Keith’s thoughts drifted once more to Alexander. Good luck, Alex, he thought bitterly. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me for what I’ve done.

As if in response, the monitor let out a sharp beep, and the timer struck zero.

Keith whispered softly, “This is the way the world ends. Not with a bang, but a whimper.”