The desk was brownish in hue, carved from solid wood and polished to a flawless sheen. Its iron legs rested firmly upon cold silver tiles, grounding it like an anchor in the otherwise quiet room. A chair was fitted neatly beneath the desk, now occupied by Veldra himself.
Not far behind him stood a bed. Grand. Excessive. Designed for two, yet claimed by only one. Its presence felt ironic, almost mocking, in the stillness of the apartment.
Above the desk hung a mirror, perfectly centred against the pristine white wall. It reflected everything without judgment: the man, the desk, the weight of countless sleepless hours.
A lamp sat atop the desk. White. Simple. Switched on. Its glow spilt downward, illuminating a book.
Not quite digital. Not quite physical.
A hybrid of both.
Its pages shimmered faintly, cursive words etched into existence as if reality itself had been persuaded to remember them. At the top of the page, written with quiet authority, was a single heading:
Chapter 1: The Gesture of the Divine.
In Veldra's hand rested a pen: golden, ornate, ancient beyond reason. Runes and signatures coiled along its surface.
He released it.
The pen fell gently and came to rest at the centre of the open page.
"Finally," Veldra muttered, his voice hoarse with exhaustion. "Chapter one is complete."
Writing isn't so bad after all, I guess. Veldra thought
He exhaled slowly, not aware of how much time, how much of himself had been poured into a single chapter. Writing, he decided, wasn't as unbearable as he had once believed.
He closed the book.
The lamp clicked off.
Darkness reclaimed the room.
Veldra threw himself onto the bed, his mind heavy, desperation for sleep overtaking thought.
Then-
The world exploded.
The ground convulsed violently, a sudden, brutal jolt that tore through the building like a roar from beneath the earth itself. The tremor intensified instantly, aggressive, relentless, as though the foundations had been seized by an unseen hand.
An earthquake.
Veldra's eyes snapped open.
The floor lurched. The walls groaned. Living in a 15-story building, on the highest floor, the odds of survival plummeted to near nothing.
Less than two percent.
He stumbled out of bed, legs shaking uncontrollably. His thoughts scattered, panic flooding in too fast to contain.
"Is this how I die…?" he whispered.
Not to himself, but to anyone who might be listening.
He bolted for the apartment door and yanked it open.
KRAACK.
The quake worsened.
Furniture skidded violently across the floor. The bed slammed against the wall. Cracks spidered through the desk, splintering wood apart. Above it all, the mirror tore free and crashed down, shattering into hundreds of jagged fragments across the tiles.
Veldra froze for a heartbeat.
The book.
The pen.
His laptop.
His bag.
His life.
He turned, torn between instinct and attachment, but the building shook again, harder this time, and hesitation vanished.
One last glance.
A silent goodbye to the room. To the book. To the birthday gift his parents had given him on his eighteenth birthday.
Then he ran.
Down the stairwell, skipping steps, lungs burning, feet barely touching the ground.
And then-
The entire building screamed.
Walls fractured violently. The stairs cracked beneath his feet, chunks breaking away as the structure began to fail.
"Oh shit!" Veldra gasped.
KRNNNN
There was no elevator. No miracle. No saviour.
Only the stairs.
Neighbours burst from their apartments in chaos, faces pale, voices screaming, bodies colliding as they fled the collapsing tower together.
"Veldra! Is that you?!"
He turned.
Sarah stood there, panic etched across her face. Blonde hair dishevelled, blue eyes wide with terror. Her pale skin contrasted sharply with the dark stairwell as she clutched the railing, breathing hard. She wore jeans and a fitted yoga top, claiming her full chest.
"Yes, it's me," Veldra said. Without sparing even a second, he rushed past her, no pause, no glance, no concern for how she was. His survival was all that mattered.
Sarah watched him go, irritation flashing across her face. She was annoyed by his behaviour, but she knew there was nothing she could do. The ground shook violently, cracks spread across the walls, and the building trembled as if it were about to tear itself apart. She followed after Veldra.
As they descended, other neighbours began pouring out of their apartments. No one spoke. They simply followed Veldra and Sarah, instinctively treating them like leaders.
Suddenly, parts of the apartment building began to crumble. The structure was being torn apart. Rocks from above and chunks of shattered walls rained down on them.
"ARGHHHH!" someone screamed.
A large rock slammed into his back, paralysing him. He collapsed, stretching out one hand, screaming for someone to save him.
Before anyone could move, another rock fell, crushing his skull. Blood poured out, dark crimson spilling across the broken floor.
The others froze in terror. Some stepped back. Some cried. But the situation left no room for mercy.
Veldra kept moving, leaving the others behind.
One by one, they followed, knowing that trying to save the man would be pointless.
After several minutes of running down the stairs, dodging falling rocks, stones, and torn pieces of the building, they reached the lowest floor.
The ground floor.
They burst through the door, and a blinding white light engulfed their vision.
After a few seconds, the light settled.
They stepped outside hurriedly, only to be met by the chaos of the outside world.
Buildings lay desolate and battered. Some had completely collapsed, leaving massive craters carved deep into the soil.
People were everywhere. millions of them.
No voices. No screams.
Only silence.
They were not looking at the destruction around them. They were looking up.
Up at what loomed in the sky.
A hand.
A massive hand, slowly descending from above. Its sheer weight caused gravity itself to tremble. The earth compressed beneath it, the ground lowering as if crushed by its presence. People clutched their heads, their bodies, as though their lives depended on it.
A golden hand.
Strange markings covered its surface. Its mesmerising appearance made everyone shiver.
People began to pray, some to Allah, some to Buddha, some to themselves, to their faith, to anything at all. A desperate hope clung to them that this was divine intervention.
Something is wrong. Everything happening now is exactly what I wrote in Chapter 1: The Gesture of the Divine.
I wish this were a dream, but it isn't.
The hand is exactly as I described it. The earthquake, the collapse, exactly as I wrote it. He thought.
"What exactly is going on?" Veldra asked himself.
Around him, others trembled in fear, hands covering their mouths to keep from screaming.
Then the hand stopped.
The earthquake seemed to cease, for a fraction of a second.
And then something else happened.
Seven thrones appeared, encircling the hand. They were too far away to be clearly seen, yet their presence was undeniable.
"What in the world…?" Veldra muttered.
Then an announcement appeared—visible to the eyes of every mortal on Earth.
[World Announcement]
[The destruction of Earth is inevitable.]
[The destruction of Earth cannot be stopped.]
[Because of this unannounced destruction, every mortal will be offered a second chance.]
[You will be reincarnated or transmigrated into another world.]
[The destruction of your planet shall be compensated.]
[Commencing destruction of Planet Earth…]
[Done.]