Khan was dead by every definition of the word. His physical and mental functions had completely halted. His chest also featured a bleeding, gaping hole, which one of his most vital organs was supposed to occupy.
Nothingness was devouring the area. The spherical, cracked curtain that was the fabric of space never stopped receding, enforcing non-existence that went beyond what the laws of physics could explain.
Khan's corpse was being pulled into that nothingness, its destination unclear. Chances were that no destination existed in the first place, but the issue hardly mattered at that point. After all, those were problems for the living.
The epilogue to Khan's journey had finally arrived, and there were far worse ways to go. Actually, all things considered, Khan should feel proud about his performance.
Despite so much being stacked against Khan from an early age, he had still accomplished the impossible.
