Multiverse: End.

CHAPTER 0 - PROLOGUE

The Multiverse Corporation Management did not sleep.

It was a realm beyond realms - a vast, luminous expanse where space seemed to stretch forever, walled by screens that shimmered like living starlight. Here, the MCM watched over everything: infinite universes, infinite timelines, infinite stories unfolding all at once. Rows upon rows of workstations stretched into haze, each manned by beings drawn from a thousand different worlds. Their purpose was simple, and impossible: to watch, to guard, and to correct before a fracture became a collapse.

Most universes ran steady. But some timelines snapped - and when they did, they spawned broken realities that expanded like rot, threatening to consume everything around them. That was what the MCM existed to stop.

The air hummed with the low thrum of machinery. Thousands of screens displayed scenes that looked less like data feeds and more like living films - whole worlds, whole lives, playing out simultaneously. Billions of workers sat at their desks, eyes locked on their monitors, hands moving across keyboards without pause. There was no rest here. Not anymore.

At one workstation sat a young recruit, sweating through his uniform. His cheeks were flushed, his fingers trembling as he typed. He'd barely started, and already the weight of the job threatened to crush him. Around him, even the most seasoned elites wore the same tight, terrified focus. No one spoke. No one smiled. The only sound was the endless, rushing symphony of the systems - and the collective, held breath of thousands who knew something terrible was approaching.

Then a voice cut through the hum - deep, resonant, and sharp as a blade.

"Boy! Any reports from your assigned sectors - Verse 5000 and Verse 1789?"

The recruit jumped. Standing beside him was Vice Manager Stan, from Universe 300 - tall, immaculately groomed, his hair neat and sharp, his eyes burning bright, piercing red. His expression was thunderous.

"N-no reports, sir!" the recruit stammered.

Stan's jaw tightened. He gave a short, sharp nod. "...Very well."

He turned and strode away, and the workers nearby all subtly lowered their gazes. No one liked meeting those eyes when they were that cold.

The recruit exhaled shakily, slumping back into his chair. "Man... what a rough guy."

A quiet chuckle came from the next desk over. "I know the feeling. But cut him some slack - he's the one who pulled Prime Verse back from total collapse once."

The recruit looked over. His neighbor was Lee Chang, from Verse 4986 - easygoing, coffee in hand, eyes crinkling at the corners. He nodded toward the screens. "That's why he's Vice Manager. Doesn't make him less scary, though, yeah?"

Lee took a sip of coffee, then glanced back at his monitor - and froze. His eyes widened. He set the mug down slowly.

"Ah, man... my assigned Universe Anchor just died."

He began typing a formal report, his movements slower, heavier than before.

The recruit leaned in, confused. "Anchor? What's that?"

Lee looked at him, surprised by the question, then explained gently: "An Anchor is someone whose existence is so fundamental to their universe that without them, the whole thing unravels. Think of 'em like the pin holding a bubble together. Pull it out - and pop. The reality decays. Fades away. Gone."

Before the recruit could reply, Stan was there again - appearing at Lee's shoulder, gaze fixed on the monitor. He didn't look surprised. Only sad.

"I see it," Stan said quietly. "It'll rot from the inside out within the hour."

He reached out and typed a rapid sequence of commands. A bright, precise beam of light flared on the screen - an instant, clean erasure. Lee looked away, his jaw tight, but he didn't argue.

"It has to happen," Stan said, his voice flat, heavy with things he didn't say. "Better a quick end than watching a whole world suffer."

The recruit opened his mouth - and then his own monitor screamed.

A warning blazed across the screen. Then another. And another. Ten alerts, firing every second.

"What... what's happening?" he whispered, fingers flying over the controls - but nothing worked. The alerts kept coming, faster and faster. Glancing around, he saw other new recruits doing the same - faces pale, hands shaking, monitors flashing in unison.

A senior officer called out, her voice cracking: "Sir - the notifications - they're spiking everywhere!"

Stan was already at her station. He stared at the data, and for the first time, the fear showed - sharp and raw.

Then Lee Chang swore.

"Holy fucker -!"

He stood so fast his chair clattered to the floor, clutching his head as if the very sight hurt him. Every eye turned. Stan bolted to Lee's side.

"Chang! Calm down - what is it?"

They all looked at the screen.

It showed a fractured, dying universe - and standing amid the ruin was a figure in a tattered red hood, face hidden behind a dark mask. Only the eyes were visible: burning, unblinking, crimson light. The monitor read out the threat level in jagged, flashing letters:

DESTRUCTION POTENTIAL - ABSOLUTE

Then the figure turned.

And looked directly at them.

Stan stepped back, his hand flying to his mouth. "He... he sees us."

On the screen, the Hooded Figure spread his arms wide, and from the shattered ground rose colossal, shadowy shapes - giants, or worse - towering over what remained of that world. His voice seemed to resonate through the room itself, low and final:

"Remember this, MCM... I am the End. And I am already here."

The screens went black.

A quiet voice broke the silence. "That is quite enough."

All heads turned. Standing at the front of the chamber was Director Nilo - tall, composed, in a crisp white trench coat and wire-rimmed glasses. He looked not at the darkened screens, but at the vast central display - where numbers were ticking upward, fast as a heartbeat.

"The multiverse is ending," Nilo said, calm as a grave announcement.

"Five hundred universes lost!" someone shouted.

"Nine hundred - now one thousand!"

"Twenty thousand gone in the last minute!"

The numbers climbed. Workers scrambled, shouting, typing, falling back in horror as the tally kept rising - ten times every second. Panic rippled through the room.

"How is this possible?" someone cried. "Without even touching the Anchor Stones?"

No answer came. The elites stared at one another - baffled, terrified, seeing a disaster no protocol had ever prepared for.

Then a soft, steady voice cut through the noise.

"Instead of shouting - why do we not find out which universe he comes from?"

All turned. An elderly man sat in an advanced tech-wheelchair at the room's center - bald, weathered, eighty years old or more, yet his eyes were sharp as a hawk's. Koran.

A frantic search began - thousands of files scanned in seconds - and went nowhere. The origin didn't exist. It wasn't in any database.

Stan let out a long, ragged breath and sat heavily on the edge of a desk, rubbing his temples.

"Fine. Forget it. We don't have time." He looked up, his gaze hardening into command. "We send teams. Gather the strongest warriors, mages, guardians - from every surviving universe. We need a defense force. Now."

His eyes settled on Lee - then shifted to the recruit beside him.

"You two. Lee... and you - what's your name?"

"Reyes," he answered, surprised. "From Verse 5000."

Stan studied him. "Reyes. Figures. I can see it in your face. What happened to your world?"

"I was born into wealth," Reyes said quietly. "Then I was abandoned. Ended up on the streets."

"There is a version of you in Prime Verse - Universe 1," Stan said, his tone heavy. "The original. The root. Are you prepared to meet him?"

Reyes glanced at Lee, who gave a small, sympathetic shrug.

"Are you prepared?" Stan asked again, sharper now.

Reyes nodded.

"Good." Stan stood, barking orders. "Prepare the transfer chamber. Input codes: 592, T920, 581-IHD. Pull the Prime Verse file - bypass if you must, use the Verse 98160 key."

"Sir - that file requires high-level authorization -"

"Do it," Stan said, and there was no arguing.

Minutes later, Reyes and Lee stood before the portal - a shimmering vertical rift within a chamber lined with glowing blue panels. Two seats waited inside.

Lee sat down, gesturing for Reyes to do the same. "Just breathe, bro. We'll get there."

Reyes nodded, heart hammering. Light swallowed the room - bright, blinding, all-encompassing. The floor shook. The walls hummed. And then - nothing. No sound, no sensation, only the fall.

Darkness took them.

[PROLOGUE ENDED - TO BE CONTINUED...]