Endzone: Simulated Apocalypse

"… So, they have met at last."

The woman named Fate, from her vast bedroom chambers, watched everything unfold through a projected television screen. Her legs were crossed one over the other, contemplating, and her eyes held a deep, wise glint to it that could only be born from eons upon eons of observing and experience.

Fate was the third child of the primordial chaos that gave birth to the multiverse. The first was Space, the second Time. Together, the three siblings mapped out the various universes of the cosmos. Fate wrote their destiny, Time carried it out, and Space set the stage.

Now, however, the other two children of the primordial chaos are on the brink of collapse.

"… There is not much time left," Fate muttered to herself, narrowing her eyes. "Jace 'Cyanide' Silverdale… he has just met the first Sentinel. At this rate, he will not make it in time…"

Fate wanted to take things into her own hands. But alas, she could not. As one of the three governing powers of the multiverse, she cannot directly interfere in any matters, even if it means her own siblings are dying—as that, is their fate. She must rely on a mortal, a mortal whose fate was to oppose celestial powers such as herself.

Fate was absolute. She knew that very well. There are certain people in the world who believe they can break past their destinies and defeat fate. Cyanide was one of them. Ragnar was another.

But alas, in the end, of the two, one was destined to lose, and one was destined to win.

Fate… was absolute.

Suddenly, a ringing noise blared out in the woman's paradoxical room, and after some slight hesitation upon seeing who it was, she picked it up.

"… The Gravemind," she murmured under her breath. "What business do you have with me today?"

From the other end, the laughter of a man echoed in Fate's ears.

"Hahaha… long time no see, my friend."

Fate gave a chuckle. "It has not been long enough. And besides… we aren't even 'seeing' each other right now, are we?"

"Indeed," the man replied in agreement. "But that does not have to be the case."

Fate gave a sigh. "… This again? My answer will not waver."

"Are you certain? Time and Space have already been nearly exhausted. If you really choose to defy us further… you will end up in the same manner. That would be very painful for me to watch. Join us—we can craft a new world."

"It is too early for me to give up," Fate said confidently. "Time and Space may fall to you, but without me, your master cannot do anything. And I… still have four trump cards."

"Oh?" The man seemed intrigued at her words. "So that is why you decided to stick your hand into my game… I see. The victor who meets your requirements will become one of your cards. Of course, I am certain the other three cards of yours are scattered elsewhere in the multiverse, but I will leave that to my colleagues to deal with. As for me… that player… 097, was it? Is he one of them?"

"Who knows?" Fate shrugged. "You are the GM, are you not? You should know better than me."

"Hahaha… yes, you are right," the man chuckled deeply. "But alas… I'm afraid it does not matter."

At this, Fate paused. What did this man mean?

Sensing the woman's momentary silence, the man titled 'GM' gave a low laugh.

"I know what you are thinking, Lady Fate. The number of players are dwindling fast, and by my game's rules, the arena will be shrunk for every 100 players dead. At the rate things are going, your precious little pawn will not be able to free all eight Sentinels before the Squall closes in on their lairs. Hence, you wish to speed things up. But I'm afraid… it won't be so easy for you, who cannot directly interfere with anything, correct?"

Fate remained silent. The man had been right on the mark.

After several seconds, the man chuckled, and Fate could hear him clapping his hands together on the other end of the call.

"As such, I have an idea. How about we play a little game of our own, Lady Fate?"

"… Oh?" Fate replied, arching an eyebrow. "Enlighten me."

"Just for this batch of survivors, I will add some… special equipment into the game. This equipment will allow the players who wear them to enter the Squall without taking damage, and although it cannot last forever and needs to be recharged with time, even within the Squall, indoors locations are immune from the damage. Of course, naturally, I will also remove the guards I stationed at each Sentinel, to give them a fair fighting chance."

"So, you are giving my trump card a chance to gather the Sentinels, and defeat you?" This time, it was Fate's turn to chuckle. "How peculiar."

"Ah, but that's not all," the man replied with a 'tsk-tsk' sound. "With every opportunity, comes an equal amount of risk. As such, just for this batch of players… I will add in a special candidate—a pawn of my own."

At this, Fate tightened up, and narrowed her eyes.

"… I thought you were all about fairness, so-called Gamemaster."

"I am," the man chuckled. "You are bestowing game-breaking powers upon your little trump card by using the Sentinels, are you not? Naturally, I must do the same to my own, to maintain fairness."

"…"

It was hard to argue there.

"So, my dear chairwoman," the man said calmly, warmly. "How about it? Your pawn against mine. If yours wins, I will tell you the locations of where Time and Space are being held captive. But if mine wins…"

Fate closed her eyes, and smiled.

"… Hmph. I understand. If your pawn wins… I will succumb to your side."

"Very good!" The man said happily, clapping his hands together once more. "A pleasure working with such a straightforward and concise woman, Lady Fate. Now then…"

The man went to work, implementing his own pawn into Endzone. Once the process was complete, he gave a dark laugh.

"… Let the game begin."