Max's hands wouldn't stop shaking.
He stared at his reflection—no, not just a reflection.
A version of himself he'd tried so hard to forget.
The version that laughed at people's pain.
That crushed anyone weaker without even blinking.
That enjoyed watching others break.
And the worst part?
It wasn't some twisted illusion.
That monster... was really him.
He clenched his jaw.
His vision blurred. His whole body felt cold.
So he did the only thing he thought might mean something.
He reached for the knife that had appeared in his hand
His fingers trembling so bad it nearly slipped
And drove it straight into his own throat.
The second the blade tore through skin and muscle—=
His reflection smiled.
"Good choice," it whispered, like it had been waiting.
And just like that
Max was gone.
Not just dead. Gone.
Erased
Elliot didn't move.
He stood there frozen, staring at his own reflection.
His stomach twisted, his heart thudded like a drum in his chest.
He had just watched someone die someone he'd known since childhood—and it still didn't feel real.
But he didn't cry.
He didn't beg.
Because somewhere deep in the pit of all that fear and grief… something finally clicked.
He had never been the good guy.
He wasn't innocent.
He was the bystander.
The quiet one.
The one who looked away.
The one who let it happen.
And maybe that was just as bad.
His throat tightened. Guilt clawed at his insides, but for once, he didn't let it bury him.
Maybe—just maybe—it didn't have to be the end of his story.
His voice was rough, like it hadn't been used in days.
"…I won't run anymore."
His reflection tilted its head, almost like it was trying to decide if he meant it.
Then
It smiled.
And vanished.
Leaving Elliot standing there. Alive.
But changed.
Arthur sighed softly, like the weight of everything had finally settled.
"Well."
He snapped his fingers.
The mirrors shattered like glass, raining into nothingness.
And suddenly
They were back in the school.
Or what was left of it.
The halls were empty now.
Max was gone.
The teachers, the students, the ghosts—gone too.
Only Elliot remained, standing in the ruins of something that used to matter.
Arthur stepped toward him, crouched down just a bit, and gave him a small, tired smile.
"Congrats," he murmured. "You won."
Elliot didn't speak.
Didn't even look up.
He wasn't grateful.
Wasn't relieved.
Just… tired. Soul-deep tired. The kind that doesn't go away with sleep.
Arthur straightened, looking down at the last survivor.
"Now," he said, his voice a little softer, a little more human, "let's see what you do with this second chance."
Just like that—he was gone.
The game was over.
And in the wreckage of everything that once was…
Only one person was left to decide what came next.
The city didn't change.
Not even a little.
Even after Arthur's game. Even after the school became nothing more than an empty ruin.
The world kept turning. People kept moving. As if nothing had happened at all.
Because in this city
Power was the only law.
The police didn't protect the weak.
The courts didn't punish the strong.
The hunters did whatever they wanted.
Arthur wasn't okay with that.
Not anymore.
So, he walked straight into the police station.
And smiled.
"Good evening, officers."
The moment he stepped inside
The air shuddered.
Reality itself bent like it was bracing for impact.
And the doors slammed shut behind him.
The officers glanced over, unimpressed.
He looked like a kid.
Like nobody important.
One of them leaned back in his chair. "You lost or something, kid?"
Arthur chuckled. "Nope. I'm exactly where I need to be."
Another officer yawned. "Alright, what do you want?"
Arthur stepped forward.
"I'm here to confess."
Silence.
Then a scoff.
A man with cold, tired eyes leaned forward. "Confess to what?"
Arthur tilted his head, smiling like this was all just a joke. "Mass murder."
For a second, no one moved.
Then
Laughter.
One officer burst out laughing. Another leaned back, grinning. "You? Mass murder? Come on."
Arthur's smile didn't fade. "Yep."
He reached into his pocket. Pulled out a phone. Tapped the screen.
And played the footage.
The room fell silent.
They watched. Watched the school twist into a nightmare. Watched the students explode. Watched the guilty hang. Watched the dead consume the living.
And watched Arthur.
Smiling.
In control.
The tension in the room turned sharp enough to slice through.
One officer knocked over his chair standing up. "What the hell is this?!"
Arthur grinned wider.
"This," he said, "is your failure."
He snapped his fingers.
And reality shattered.
The station disappeared. The desks, the walls, the lights—gone.
And the officers?
They found themselves in a place that defied logic.
An arena of darkness.
A twisted courtroom where time itself forgot how to move.
One of them gasped.
Another dropped to his knees. A third—maybe their captain—reached for his gun.
But it was gone.
In his hands— Was the body of a child.
The captain's eyes went wide.
And the child opened its mouth
And screamed.
Arthur hovered above, arms spread like a conductor.
"Welcome, officers," he said brightly. "You've spent your lives enforcing the law."
A beat.
"Or ignoring it."
He clapped his hands once.
"So let's have a trial."
The officers panicked. One tried to yell—but his mouth was gone. Another ran—but there was nowhere to go.
Arthur smirked.
"Let's get started."
A massive scale appeared, floating in the air.
One side empty.
The other—filled with bloodstained badges.
And then the voices started.
Whispers.
Screams.
Cries of the forgotten.
"Where were you?!"
"They murdered my son!"
"My daughter begged for help! You did NOTHING!"
The officers trembled.
Arthur watched, almost bored.
"The rules are simple," he said. "The scale weighs your sins."
"If it tips too far—"
Snap.
One officer collapsed.
His body twisted.
Flesh warped.
Gone.
As if he never existed.
The others screamed.
Arthur gave a lazy shrug. "Guess he failed the trial."
The scale kept moving.
The voices got louder.
One officer relived every ignored plea.
His mind broke.
Another tried to beg.
The weight of his own apathy crushed him into dust.
Another felt every pain he'd ever dismissed.
Every cry he'd silenced.
None of them were innocent.
None were spared.
Until
Only one remained.
The captain.
His eyes were empty.
His hands trembled.
And the scale still tipped.
He fell to his knees.
And whispered "Please."
Arthur tilted his head. "Please what?"
"Please… let me atone."
Arthur's smile faded for the first time.
His Eyes of Wrath flickered.
"Atone? Now? After everything?"
The captain lowered his head. "I know it's too late. But if I still have time—let me fix it."
A long silence.
The scale stopped.
Arthur sighed. "How boring."
Snap.
The void collapsed.
The next morning
The police station was gone.
Not destroyed.
Not burned.
Gone.
No one remembered it.
No one remembered them.
Except for one man.
The former captain.
A broken soul who remembered everything.
He spent the rest of his life trying to atone for sins that could never be forgiven.
And Arthur?
Arthur moved on.
Because the game was over.
And the world still had plenty of players left.