Nu found himself in an inescapable situation.

A powerful force pulled at his body as though he were caught in a relentless current. Alongside countless other star legacies, he was being drawn inexorably toward the Galactic Tyrant, whose immense gravitational pull dominated the surroundings.

The intense distortion of space-time unfolded before Nu as a breathtaking spectacle. Faint traces of heat, peeling away from the cosmic background radiation, coalesced into swirling clouds. These clouds shimmered with every color of the spectrum, forming a spiraling tunnel of rainbow light that seemed to lead directly to the colossal figure.

The scattered glow of nearby white dwarfs added to the scene’s exotic grandeur, their luminous points punctuating the kaleidoscopic expanse with intricate patterns of white light.

Yet, for Nu, the grandeur offered no comfort. His mind was a storm of despair, completely consumed by the hopelessness of his situation.

At the end of his road, Nu had ample time to reflect on his insignificant and unfulfilled life. Hundreds of years stretched ahead as the Galactic Tyrant methodically completed its cosmic bench press repetition. Once the exercise ended, Nu would be absorbed into the surface of the being, forced to relinquish control of his existence.

There was no other way to escape it. His life was going to come to an end.

Nu tried to comfort himself by reading the fifty thousand pages of his ancestors' stories. These passages had once carried him through his most isolating and harrowing moments, offering an escape from hunger and loneliness as he journeyed through the cold expanse of the universe. To him, these stories were a priceless treasure and a constant source of joy. They recounted heroic feats and great triumphs against impossible odds, showcasing the finest moments of his ancestors' lives in gleeful, vivid detail.

But this time, when he finished reading and turned to the blank section meant for his own legacy, he gazed at it with discomfort and pain.

To this day, Nu had neglected to record any details of his life. Believing his existence would one day become a great and storied spectacle, he continually postponed the task, waiting for a distant future when his life felt complete. Now, as he stared at the blank section, its emptiness compared to the fifty thousand pages of his ancestors' triumphs felt like a thousand needles stabbing at his throat.

He longed to fill those pages with words of his own triumphs, but nothing seemed worth writing. His only notable achievement was a fleeting triumph in the pocket space at the beginning of his life. Beyond that, his existence was a blur of failure and regret.

The hundred-year promise to the yellow planet loomed over him like a dark cloud. He had vowed to end his life by this point, yet he still remained powerless.

Unable to face the emptiness, he read his ancestors' stories repeatedly, going through the legacy front to back twenty times. The comfort they once provided had long since faded. Their tales now felt like mockery, emphasizing his shortcomings and deepening his frustration and despair.

Even after reaching the space reserved for his own legacy for the twentieth time, he still could not bring himself to write a single word about his unremarkable life.

“What is this terrible life I have lived, if I can’t even bear to record my own experiences?” he wondered aloud, his eyes heavy with sadness.

“Is there anything left for me here?” he lamented.

“My ancestors have failed me.

I have no children to carry on my legacy, even if I were to record it.”

“All I have left are my unfulfilled desires...”

Anger and dissatisfaction welled up within him as he gazed out at the universe. Yet, even in his frustration, he couldn’t bring himself to swear in defiance or curse its unfairness. He could only shake his head and sigh.

“It is not the universe that has failed me, but I who have failed,” he murmured.

“Or perhaps it was as the man had said, and I was never meant to find the end of my journey in this suffocating cage of life and death.”

Drip.

Nu replayed the statuesque man's demonstration in his mind: the blue drop of water striking the surface of the tea. The sound echoed around him like a shimmering hallucination, subduing a portion of his awareness and shielding him from any further regretful thoughts.

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The sound of weeping cries reverberated as his legacy felt the tearing destruction of demortality.

“It’s too late. You’ve failed me one time too many.” Nu spoke deliberately. “My path in this world is no more. Your useless teachings will fade alongside my discarded mortal shell.”

“Only through demortality will I have a chance to find solace in this indifferent universe.”

Drip... Drip... Drip...

Several more droplets echoed as Nu prepared to relinquish everything.

The Primordial Gray, which had shielded his Aetherroot body from the streams of time, began to loosen. His legacy dissolved, washing away like loose mud. Its agonized cries faded as each page vanished with every falling droplet.

His tiny, root-like body glowed faintly blue as water surrounded it. All his senses dulled and the only thing that remained in his mind was the steady rhythm of the dripping water as demortality slowly stripped away the entirety of his mortal body and soul leaving behind nothing but his root-like body.

The downpour intensified, transforming into a cascading water beacon that engulfed his plant-like form. The torrent formed a passageway, blurring his multicolored surroundings as Nu ascended through it. Leaving behind his mortal shell within the universe, he entered the demortal realm in his original, bare root-like form.

Crawling out of the Past-Present River and onto the riverbank, Nu found himself in a world of pure white. Beneath his feet stretched a desert of white sand, its hill-like dunes rising to meet an endless, pristine skyline. Beside the desert wound a river channel, its gentle flow echoing softly in the stillness. Behind him stood a gray dam, its imposing structure seeming to divert and diminish the water that passed through it.

As he emerged, the last remnants of Nu’s thoughts fell silent, replaced by primal instincts. His innate need to seek water guided him along the riverbank. His root-like body glided soundlessly across the sand’s surface.

The river’s gentle flow slowed further as its banks widened, finally surrendering its waters to the Ocean of the Future. The ocean appeared as a vast, nearly motionless expanse of deep blue, stretching endlessly beyond sight, with no discernible horizon.

At the shoreline, countless tiny blue hands clawed at the sand before retreating into the water. Their restless movements broke the stillness, producing rhythmic lapping sounds that made Nu pause.

His gaze followed the shoreline to the far distance, where above the water and within the stark white skyline stood a grotesque flesh effigy.

Its body was a chaotic amalgamation of life in perpetual motion, with new pieces of flesh sprouting endlessly. Limbs, torsos, and faces of countless beings unfurled like seedlings, only to decay or be consumed by mouths that formed and vanished across its surface. The figure appeared paradoxically both blurry and clear, as though its very essence defied comprehension. From its unfathomable distance, only a faint, vague human outline could be discerned.

Time passed like silk as Nu observed the unfolding scene.

From one of the effigy’s many eyes, a black droplet emerged like a teardrop. Breaking free, it appeared as an enormous orb, moving like an expanding black dot through the strange environment. It caused no ripples in the air or water, yet its presence was overwhelming.

When it reached Nu, it consumed the entire sky, filling his vision until nothing else remained. On its surface, faint outlines of stationary stars and frozen galaxies shimmered into view. The droplet seemed to encapsulate the suspended time-state of the entire universe.

The droplet spun in place, its watery surface warping and distorting, until it transformed into the familiar image of the rainbow tunnel from which he had emerged, bringing Nu face-to-face with his previous time-frozen mortal body.

At the same time, the ocean began to stir, bubbles breaking its surface. From the depths emerged a human-shaped figure of deep, abyssal black. Its body, untouched by the water, remained completely dry as it stepped onto the shore, carrying a white porcelain teacup and saucer adorned with intricate patterns. The figure moved with effortless grace, placing the cup before Nu and pausing, as though waiting for something.

A spout of water erupted from the black droplet, pouring Nu’s discarded body like liquid into the porcelain cup. As the water touched the cup, it shimmered and boiled, releasing grayish-purple smoke that spiraled into the air, carrying the faint aroma of fine tea. The smoke swirled and danced before briefly coalescing into an apparition of Nu’s previous body.

“Nice tea,” whispered Nu’s former self.

The figure nodded slightly, seemingly satisfied with the response. With a subtle gesture, it turned and guided the root-like Nu toward the ocean’s edge.

Nu paused at the shoreline, watching as the figure disappeared into the depths. Without hesitation, he stepped forward. Countless hands emerged from the water’s edge, their grasp gentle yet firm, pulling him beneath the surface.

Only the teacup containing Nu’s previous body remained.

Time passed as the tea continued to steam, releasing a steady flow of grayish-purple smoke. Above, the smoke began to gather, coalescing into ominous purple clouds that ascended into the sky. The storm grew, spreading across the entire surface of the black droplet that encased the time-frozen universe.

Within the present universe, an unparalleled phenomenon unfolded. Nu’s thunderous purple clouds stretched across the cosmos, their presence both foreboding and auspicious, shaking the very fabric of existence.

The Galactic Tyrant was among the first to notice the anomaly. Having just completed the final repetition of his bench press, he sat up, scratching his head as numerous white dwarfs burrowed into his skin. A slight frown crossed his face.

“Weird. Did the total mass of the universe just drop?” he muttered, raising an eyebrow. “The second half of that final rep felt way easier than the first few.”

He traced his chest muscles with mild disappointment. “These galaxies aren’t cutting it anymore,” he sighed. “Looks like I’ll need a new spot if I want a decent workout.”

Suddenly, his eyes caught sight of the purple clouds gathering above. They churned with ominous energy, shaking the fabric of space-time itself.

“What the hell?” he muttered, narrowing his gaze. “Rain? Out here? Aren’t I still in space?” His bafflement deepened as he stared at the forming storm.

The clouds rumbled, their thunder resonating across the cosmos.

Blue raindrops began to coalesce, cascading across the universe, each drop carrying the echo of an existence now forgotten.