At first it was doubt, but soon it turned to certainty: Adonis was Liam.

***

The descent into the Cold prison was silent.

​"The subject’s mental stability is fluctuating between thirty and forty percent, Master. The realization of your identity has created a cognitive dissonance that the system is struggling to map. He is currently trapped in a loop of his own memories from the 2030 event." Vexa reported, her voice devoid of its usual melodic warmth.

​Adonis didn’t break his stride. "Good. Let the loop run. I want his guilt to be the foundation of his new existence."

​They reached the final gate, a massive slab of obsidian etched with anti-divine runes. With a casual wave of his hand, the stone groaned and slid into the ceiling. Inside, the cell was a void of damp stone and freezing silence.

Theodore was curled in the corner, his ruined golden armor pieces scattered across the floor like discarded scrap metal.

​Without speaking. Adonis pulled a chair of solidified shadow from the ether and sat down, crossing one armored leg over the other. He leaned forward, his chin resting on his hand, staring at Theodore with a gaze that was far too human and far too cold.

​Theodore looked up with a face of dried tears. "Why haven’t you killed me yet, Liam? Is this the part where you gloat before the execution?"

​"Gloat?" Adonis let out a dry, rasping laugh. "No, Junior. Gloating is for people who are surprised by their success. I’m not surprised. I’m just... disappointed. I expected more from the man who killed me for a promotion."

​"I told you! The Boss knew!" Theodore screamed, his voice cracking. "He saw your secret logs! He saw the ’Sword Evolution’ folder on the Artemis mainframe! He told me if I didn’t get him the encryption key, I’d be blacklisted from the industry! I had debt, Liam! I had a life!"

​"And I had a dream," Adonis hissed, his voice dropping into a register that made the shadows in the room vibrate.

"I had eighteen years of graveyard shifts, sugar-free coffee that tasted like battery acid, and a back that felt like it was being held together by rusted staples. I spent five years building this world while you were out at clubs spending the salary I helped you earn. You didn’t just kill a man in that studio, Theo. You tried to delete a universe."

​Adonis stood up and walked toward the small, high window of the cell.

"I remember the feeling of the steel fork in my throat. I remember the ’Clang’ of my body hitting the floor. But mostly, I remember the notification. [Target Soul Found]. The system didn’t just save me; it integrated me. It recognized the architect."

​He turned back to Theodore, "You wanted to be the Lead Developer? You wanted to be the hero of the game? Well, here we are. This is the final stage of the beta test. And you, Junior, are the bug."

​"Please..." Theodore whimpered, sensing the shift in the air. "Liam, we were friends. I’ll do anything. I’ll serve you. I’ll help you take the Central Continent!"

​"Oh, you will indeed serve me," Adonis said, a cruel smirk playing on his lips. "But not as a man. You’ve proven that humanity is a suit that doesn’t fit you. You’re a follower, Theo. A lapdog. And I’m a big believer in visual metaphors."

​Adonis raised his hand, and the room was suddenly flooded with strings of violet code. They didn’t just surround Theodore; they pierced him.

​"Vexa, initiate the ’Mascot’ reformatting," Adonis commanded.

​"Understood. Commencing asset transformation. Overwriting ’Hero’ class with ’Domestic Beast’ sub-routine."

"Ahhhhhh!"

​Theodore’s screams filled the prisom.

His bones began to snap and realign with a sickening crunch. His golden hair was pulled into his scalp and replaced by a coarse, matted yellow fur. His face elongated, his jaw jutting forward until his teeth became blunt fangs. His fingers fused into paws, and his spine curved until he was forced onto all fours.

​Adonis watched every second of it, his expression one of bored academic interest.

When the light finally faded, the Hero of Ascalon was gone.

Now, a small shivering dog sat on the floor, its eyes wide with a soul-crushing human intelligence.

​"Bark for me, Junior," Adonis said softly.

​The dog let out a pathetic, high-pitched yelp. "Woof!"

​"Perfect," Adonis murmured. "Vexa, bring the leash. We have a public to entertain."

---

​The Imperial Plaza.

​The sun was setting over Dragonia, casting a bruised purple hue over the thousands of citizens gathered in the Imperial Plaza.

The tension was thick enough to taste. The "Holy Sword" had been captured, and the people wanted to see the face of the man who had dared to threaten their new stability.

​When Adonis stepped out onto the high balcony, the roar was deafening. He didn’t wear his imperial crown; instead, he wore his black developer robes, the high collar framing his face like a shadow.

Behind him, he dragged a golden leash.

​"Citizens of the Dragon Empire!" Adonis’s voice boomed, amplified by the atmospheric mana-arrays. "The Central Continent sent you a savior! They sent a man they claimed would ’liberate’ you from the prosperity of my rule! They told you that the ’Soul’ was more important than the system!"

​He yanked the leash, pulling the shivering golden dog into the light.

"WOOOF!"

​"Look at your savior!" Adonis laughed, the sound echoing across the city. "This is Theodore! The ’Hero’ of Ascalon! This is the man who was supposed to bring me to justice!"

​The silence that followed was heavy, almost confused.

Then, a single laugh broke out from the front row of the military guard.

"Haha..."

Then another. "Ahahaha.."

Within seconds, the entire plaza was erupting into mocking jeers.

​"That’s a hero?" a merchant shouted, pointing his finger. "I’ve seen bigger rats in the sewers of the Western docks!"

​"He looks like he’s house-trained!" a woman yelled, her voice filled with a bitter delight.

​Adonis leaned down, forcing the dog to look over the edge of the balcony at the sea of mocking faces.

Through a forced telepathic link, he let his voice echo in Theodore’s mind: "Do you hear them, Theo? These are the ’npcs.’ These are the people you were going to save. They don’t want a hero who breaks the world. They want a world that works. And right now, you are the best entertainment they’ve had in years."

​The dog-Theodore let out a mournful howl, but to the crowd, it just sounded like a pathetic whimper.

​"He will stay at the palace gates!" Adonis announced. "He will be the mascot of our new age. Let him be a reminder to the Central Continent that their gods have no power here. Their ’Heroes’ are nothing more than strays in my kingdom!"

​The roar of "GLORY TO THE ARCHITECT" shook the very foundations of the palace.

Adonis stood there, bathed in the violet light of his own Chaos, watching as the people he had "saved" turned their backs on the concept of divine justice in favor of a well-ordered tyranny.

​---

​The news of Theodore’s desecration hit the Central Continent like a physical blow.

In the High Cathedral of Ascalon, the atmosphere was one of mourning turned to incandescent rage. The scrying pool at the center of the hall showed the image of the dog on the leash, a sight that caused many of the younger priests to vomit in horror.

​"It is a violation of the Primal Code," the High Priest whispered, his hands shaking. "He has rewritten a soul. Only the Creator has that authority."

​"He is no creator," a voice boomed from the shadows.

​The Envoy of Ascalon stepped forward. He was a being of pure, radiant energy, his armor forged from the heart of a star. Every step he took left a charred footprint on the marble floor. His eyes were two voids of white fire.

​"The Dragon Emperor is a corruption," the Envoy hissed, his voice sounding like a thousand blades scraping together. "He is a reincarnated outsider, he is a plague."

​"Lord Envoy," a paladin stammered, kneeling. "The border sectors are in revolt. The people are saying that if the Dragon Emperor can toy with the ’Hero,’ then our God is merely a spectator. They are tearing down the Sword-Temples!"

​"Humph, then the time for watching has ended," the Envoy declared, raising his staff. The ceiling of the cathedral seemed to dissolve, revealing a sky that was turning a deep, angry crimson.

"If the plague has taken over the Western Sector, then we shall initiate a Global Wipe. We will not liberate the West. We will delete it."

​"But Lord Envoy!" the High Priest cried out. "The millions of innocent souls—"

​"They are already corrupted!" the Envoy roared. "They cheer for a man who mocks the Divine. They have chosen the efficiency of the machine over the grace of the Sun. We will reset the continent to Year Zero. We will purge every line of mana, every city, and every living thing. We will start again from a divine eradication."

​