The instant the lightning struck, it was as though a million burning needles exploded beneath every inch of my skin, sinking deep and setting fire to my nerves. My body twisted violently, seized by agony so profound it rivaled the beatings my father used to deal out like punishments from a wrathful god—merciless and soul-breaking. The electricity didn't just pass through me; it clawed its way into my bloodstream, crackling in my veins like molten wire. For a fleeting, unbearable moment, I could swear I was being roasted alive from the inside out.

  Yet, beneath the excruciating pain, there was a twisted sense of fulfillment—a dark satisfaction in finally feeling something again. Emotions had become little more than vague echoes in my mind, as if someone had taken a watercolor painting of my soul and thrown it into a fast-moving river. Once-vivid hues—like the verdant greens of a forest or the comforting warmth of sunlight—were now smudged beyond recognition, fading with every passing second. Only the paling outline of a once-bright world remained, like the final stroke of a dying artist.

  This time, the lightning was green—an oddity even on this cursed planet. It pierced the top of my elbow, zipping through my body with a sensation that was more a tickle than torture. It danced across my skin like a mischievous spider web, then trailed down to my toes before it finally dove into the scorched ground beneath. I stood unfazed, simply adjusting the straw hat still clinging to my head and leaning my body into the cruel, unrelenting wind. Dust scoured my scarf and scratched against the protective goggles shielding my eyes, while the wind shrieked like an ancient god in mourning, deafening all other sounds.

  "By the heavens" I muttered through gritted teeth, "why the fuck did I make this storm never-ending?"

  The words were barely audible, snatched away by the storm before they could finish leaving my lips. And yet, the complaint felt justified. I had to brace myself again and push forward, each step a defiance of nature’s wrath. Somewhere behind me, the earth trembled—another red lightning bolt, this one coiling like a serpent made of fire, crackled and snapped around me before vanishing into the soil with a hiss, leaving only a heavy silence and the phantom threat of its return.

  Everything about this place defied reason. Lightning didn’t behave like it should. Nothing did. The sky above was a swirling canvas of pitch-black clouds, so thick and vast they blanketed the continent, never letting even a sliver of true sunlight pass through. Amidst that suffocating gloom, arcs of colored lightning—violet, crimson, emerald—leapt from cloud to cloud like manic brushstrokes painting the end of the world.

  This planet was barren in the purest sense of the word. A place where the apocalypse had come and then decided to linger. Only two seasons remained in what was once a yearly cycle: the stormy season—my favorite—and the rainy season, which would’ve been tolerable if not for my irrational fear of water. And if the rain hadn’t turned poisonous. It was more acid than liquid now, capable of blistering skin on contact and leeching life from anything foolish enough to remain unprotected.

  The landscape was just as unforgiving. Cracked earth stretched endlessly under a choking sky, split by jagged rocks and fields of ash. Volcanoes dotted the horizon like angry gods, spewing sulfur and fire with no concern for what little life remained. The caves—dark, endless maws burrowed into the rock—offered brief shelter, but they were just as likely to be the mouths of sleeping beasts.

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  Vegetation? Extinct. As far as I could tell, not a single plant survived in the wild. Life was limited to the foul, the violent, and the stubborn. A few parasitic worms. Packs of cannibalistic monsters. And goblins—those wretched, eternal bastards. Not even a cataclysm could wipe them out. Not even death. Not time. Not even me.

  And before you ask—no, humans didn’t destroy this world. Nor did the worms or the monsters or the goblins. This world was my doing. I ruined it. Not intentionally, perhaps. I’m not proud of it either. I’d rank that little achievement somewhere between sleeping with my subordinate and committing an entire beaver genocide. Though, to be fair, they really had it coming. Maybe I’ll even add it to my résumé someday—not that anyone in their right mind would hire someone with my... colorful past.

  As I brooded, a sound like thunder split the air. I dropped to my knees instinctively as a boulder the size of a small vehicle careened toward me, flung by the chaotic winds and unstable gravity like a toy in the hands of a petulant god. The ground trembled beneath my boots, threatening to give way. Then, impossibly, the stone halted mid-air, spun lazily, and flung itself elsewhere with a roar of displaced air. I didn’t question it. You don’t question things here—you survive them.

  "How much I hate this…" I growled under my breath, wiping blood from my nose and watching the rock finally crash into the sand far away. I scowled as it levitated again, then retreated a few steps, hoping it would go irritate a goblin colony instead of flattening me.

  I finally approached the only structure that resembled home—a cavern mouth etched into the cliffside—only to be greeted by another obstacle. Towering over me at nearly three meters was a creature like some mutant T-Rex, with glittering fangs and tiny, twitching arms. Saliva dripped from its jaws as it roared in what might have been joy, stomping toward me with the enthusiasm of a long-lost friend.

  Emotionally, I was spent. I couldn’t muster fear or anger. Just… dull awareness.

  Yes, I was had some standards. Being tackled by a sharp-clawed death lizard wasn’t on my to-do list. I leaned against the cave’s entrance and braced myself. But at the last second, the animal didn’t attack. It dropped suddenly, tongue flailing, gobbling up dirt like it was ice cream before collapsing into a lifeless heap. Dead before it hit the ground.

  "How the hell am I supposed to clean that up now?" I muttered, nudging the corpse with my boot. "… She won’t like that."

  I unwrapped my scarf, spitting blood into the dust, and stepped into the cool darkness of the cave. Peace, finally.

  The stone staircase leading down was pristine—still untouched by chaos. That alone brought the smallest of smiles to my lips. I descended slowly, passing bare stone walls that echoed with my every step. For nearly fifty meters, there was only emptiness. Then, finally, life.

  The walls bloomed with bioluminescent plants I had coaxed into existence over the years—my own defiance against the death above. The air shimmered with their soft glow. Beyond them lay the central room, my sanctuary.

  A small pond shimmered in the corner, holding the only clean water for miles. My cat—eternally grumpy—watched me from a ledge. But none of it compared to what truly mattered.

  My sun.

  "Mum!" she called, her voice like music in a broken world.

  No matter how many times I saw her, my heart still bloomed anew. She was my everything. The culmination of every desperate wish, every sleepless night. And I hadn’t even sacrificed that much to bring her into this world.

  Only my best friend. Twice. The world. And all the beauty that once colored the river’s landscape.

  But it was worth it. If I had to lose myself to preserve what lay on the other side of the painting—the true universe, where every life was a brushstroke—I would do it again.

  Still, this story doesn’t begin here. It begins long before the thunder, before the storm.

  It begins with me—a blank slate, stained in darkness, carved from my father’s cruelty, and bleached of innocence. A canvas he tried to fill with malice. But I took the brush away. And I painted something else.