Flashback, Original World, The Palace, ???
Kaito found Riku in the garden, sitting under the same tree where they always met. The prince was pulling grass from the dirt, rolling it between his fingers, letting it fall.
"You're thinking again," Kaito said, sitting beside him.
"Don't you ever want more than this?" Riku gestured vaguely at the palace walls surrounding them. "Every day is the same. Lessons, meals, more lessons. We just sit here while everyone else actually does things."
"What would you want? If you could have anything?"
Riku's face changed. The restlessness sharpened into something specific. "A place that's ours. Not a garden they let us use. Not a room they assign us. Something we build. Something real."
Kaito understood. In a palace full of adults making decisions, two boys had no space that belonged to them.
"Then ask your brother,” Kaito suggested.
"He'll say no. He always says no now."
"He's the king. He can say yes to anything."
Riku looked at him, and something shifted in his expression. Not hope exactly. More like calculation.
Flashback, Throne Room, Later
King Roy Story sat on the throne built for his father. The crown was too heavy for a fourteen-year-old head, but no one had thought to resize it. Three months since the assassination at Agary.
In a world where natural death had been cured generations ago, murder wasn't just a crime; it was an impossibility made real. Something so unnatural that no one had even thought to protect against it.
Three months of advisors telling him what to do, ministers demanding decisions, a kingdom expecting leadership from a boy who still woke up reaching for parents who weren't there.
The portraits on the walls didn't help. His mother's gentle smile. His father's steady gaze. Both frozen in paint while their bodies rotted in royal tombs.
Riku entered without announcement. He was the only one who could.
"Brother." Riku stood at the base of the throne, looking up. "I have a request."
King Story straightened, trying to look like a king instead of a tired teenager. "What is it?"
"A playground. For me and Kaito. Somewhere we can spend our days. Something that belongs to us."
The request was small. Simple. The kind of thing their father would have granted without thought. But their father had ruled a prosperous kingdom, not one bleeding from famine and political collapse.
"Riku, I would love to give you this." Story chose his words carefully. "But our people are starving. Every resource must go toward rebuilding from the war. As king, I have to put the nation first."
Roy watched his brother's face fall. Watched the hope drain out of it, replaced by something worse.
"I see." Riku's voice went flat. "You must not love me, then. If you cannot fulfill even this small wish."
The words hit like a physical blow. Roy was off the throne before he knew he was moving.
"No. No, Riku, that's not true." He grabbed his brother's shoulders, desperate. "I do love you. You're all I have left. I'll build it. I'll build your world. Whatever you want."
"You mean it?"
"The famine can wait. We'll address it after. I promise."
Riku smiled then, and Story felt relief flood through him. He couldn't lose his brother too. He would do anything to keep that smile on Riku's face.
Behind him, the advisors exchanged glances. But who argues with a grieving king? Who tells a boy clinging to his last family member that he's making a mistake?
No one. So construction began. Not on a garden. Not on a palace wing. On an entire world. A replica of reality itself, built atom by atom, where two boys could live whatever lives they wanted while the real world rotted around them. The famine continued. The people died. And Riku smiled, dreaming of the paradise being built just for him.
Flashback, Palace, One Year Later
The throne room had changed. The portraits of Story's parents still hung on the walls, but they were smaller now, pushed aside to make room for technical schematics and monitoring cameras. Maps of the artificial world covered every surface. Progress reports. Construction updates.
King Story sat on his throne, reading a report. He was not fourteen anymore. His shoulders had broadened, his jaw hardened, his eyes emptied of the desperate need to please that once defined him. One year of ruling a dying kingdom while pouring its resources into a playground had carved something cold into him.
Asha waited at the foot of the throne. The chief architect of the artificial world, the man who had made Riku's dream possible, now stood with his hands clasped and his mouth pressed into a thin line.
"The world is complete," Asha said. "Every building, every street, every artificial citizen. Exactly as Prince Riku specified. Exactly as exists in the real world. All the people even – everything looks identical."
"Good."
"But…Your Majesty." Asha hesitated. King Story watched him struggle with whatever he wanted to say next. "May I speak freely?" Asha finally asks.
"You may."
"Is this right?" The words came out strained, like Asha had been holding them for years. "An entire reality. Crafted through powers that shouldn't exist. For two boys. While your people starve."
The throne room went silent. The advisors along the walls stopped breathing.
Story set down the report. His expression didn't change.
"Simon,” Story called forth.
The young guard stepped forward from the shadows. Asha's face went pale.
"Your Majesty, I only meant—" Asha tried to justify.
"Carry out Asha,” the King ordered to the guard, ignoring Asha’s pleads.
Simon grabbed the architect by the arm. Asha struggled as Simon dragged him away, dignity dissolving into panic.
"The calculations aren't finished! The fundamental constants, we haven't verified them! Your Majesty, please, if something goes wrong—"
The doors closed behind them. Asha's voice echoed down the corridor, growing fainter, then silent.
Story picked up the next report and continued reading.
Flashback, Artificial World
Riku and Kaito stood in the town square, looking up at the buildings. Every detail matched their world perfectly.
"It's exactly right," Riku said.
"Yeah." Kaito kicked at the cobblestones. "Exactly."
They walked through the streets. The citizens smiled as they passed, bowing with identical respect, greeting them with identical warmth. Every single one.
"Even the food tastes fake," Kaito said, tossing aside a pastry he'd taken from a vendor. "Like someone described sweetness to a person who'd never tasted sugar, and they tried to recreate it."
"It's supposed to be perfect."
"That's the problem. It's too perfect. Nothing surprises you here."
They kept walking until they reached a large parking lot, placed on the south side of the city center – exactly like the real world. Kaito looked around for anything new he hadn’t seen before, even watching the ground for an inconsistency within the monochrome asphalt.
Suddenly, the sky changed.
One moment the sun was out. The next, clouds covered everything. Gray. Heavy. Ominous.
Rain started falling.
"We should head back," Riku said, the droplets darkening his white shirt.
He slowed down to turn when Kaito grabbed his arm.
Kaito looked at Riku with determination. "We asked for this world so we could live differently. Live freely. So let's actually do that."
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Riku seemed hesitant.
“Look,” Kaito continued with a sigh. “You can go back now if you’re scared. But you’ll be giving up your freedom. Your independence. In here, you don’t have to care about getting drenched from the rain just so your brother can scold you when you get back home. You don’t have to worry about looking like a “real prince” to any of the nobles or faking a smile for any more pictures. That dumb stuff is gone now. place is all to us. Anyone that matters is back in some other dimension while we do what we want.”
Riku looked into Kaito’s eyes, his dark black eyes lighting up with the thoughts of potential adventures in their secluded world.
Riku turned to look at the rain. It was cold. Actually cold.
They chose to stay, Riku satisfied with his decision and Kaito proud of his friend who left his comfort zone.
Then, the ground shuddered.
Flashback, Palace Control Room
King Story sat before the monitors, watching the feeds. Stable readings. Everything running smoothly.
His brother was inside that world right now. Exploring the streets they'd built for him, that he personally instructed.
The door opened behind Roy, interrupting his thoughts. Footsteps. Story turned.
It was Asha. His face was pale.
"Your Majesty,” Asha heaved, out of breath.
"What.”
"The calculations. The ones I told you weren't finished." Asha's voice was urgent. "We were off. One of the fundamental constants was wrong. The verification process never got completed."
Story's hands tightened on the console. "What does that mean?"
"The world is falling apart. We need to get them out before—"
The monitors flared white. Every screen in the room overloaded at once.
Then nothing.
Black screens. The displays died as all the monitors shut off. No readings. No feeds.
"What just happened?" Story asked, frustration rising.
Asha didn't answer. He was staring at the monitors too.
Silence.
Flashback, Artificial World
The ground beneath the two boys shook, strong enough to throw them off their balance.
"W-What is this? E-Earthquake?" Riku looked around, steadying himself against a lamppost.
“This world doesn't have earthquakes. Your brother made sure of that.”
The shaking stopped. They looked at each other, uncertain.
"Maybe a glitch," Kaito offered. "First day. Working out the bugs."
“Yeah. Maybe.” Riku sounds unconvinced.
They started walking again, slower now. The rain continued to fall, but something about it felt different. Sharper. Riku wiped water from his eyes and his fingers came away stinging.
"Kaito. Does this rain feel—"
The ground cracked.
Not small fractures. These cracks split the street in jagged lines, glowing from within. Pale light pulsed up through them, cold and wrong.
"We need to go. Now." Riku grabbed Kaito's arm.
They ran. Behind them, steam hissed from the fissures. The artificial citizens continued smiling, continued waving, even as the ground opened beneath their feet and swallowed them into light.
A sound tore through the air. Not thunder. Not an explosion. Something worse.
Kaito looked back over his shoulder.
The car came from nowhere. It didn't drive down the street. It simply appeared, already moving, tires screaming on the wet cobblestones. Hydroplaning. Out of control.
"KAITO!"
The impact was simple. Brutal. The car hit Kaito and he flew, limbs loose, hitting the ground hard. The car kept going, crashing into a lamppost that bent around it like rubber before both dissolved into light.
Riku ran to where Kaito had landed. His friend lay crumpled on the cobblestones, eyes closed, blood pooling from somewhere under his hair. Breathing, but wrong. Shallow. Unconscious.
"Kaito. Kaito, wake up," Riku begged, unsure of what to do.
No response. Riku shook his shoulder. Nothing.
He should pick him up. Should run. Should do something. Anything.
But his body wouldn't move.
He was frozen there, hands on Kaito's shoulder, knees on the wet cobblestones. His legs wouldn't stand. His arms wouldn't lift. Everything in him was screaming to move and nothing was listening.
Riku’s mind screamed at him. Get up. Get up. GET UP.
He couldn't.
He looked up.
The buildings were bending inward, stretching toward a point in the sky that warped into itself. The artificial citizens were being pulled off their feet, their bodies elongating as they flew toward the center. The cracks in the ground had widened into chasms, and what bubbled up from beneath wasn't lava. It was light. Pure and burning.
The sky cracked like glass. The ground tilted. Debris flew past him, chunks of stone and wood and bodies all spiraling toward the same point.
And Riku knelt there. Watching. Unable to do anything else.
His brain kept talking to him. I'm going to die here.
The thought was clear. Simple.
His mind continued, trying to bring the boy out of the trance. I'm going to die here, next to Kaito, because my body won't move.
He looked down at his friend. Still breathing. Still unconscious. He wouldn't even know when it happened.
I'm sorry.
The pull started gentle. Then it wasn't.
Their bodies left the ground, dragged toward the center. Riku reached for Kaito as they were violently ripped apart. Kaito couldn't reach back.
The world collapsed inward.
Riku felt the pull. Then Kaito beside him. They were being dragged toward the center, toward the point in the sky where everything was converging.
Riku reached for Kaito. Their hands touched.
The compression started. Everything pressing toward the center. Buildings bending. Citizens stretching. Debris flying. All of it being pulled into one point.
Riku could feel Kaito next to him. Then overlapping with him. Then he couldn't tell which one of them was which anymore.
In the middle of this, time stopped.
Everything froze mid-collapse. Buildings bent halfway toward the center, hanging there. Citizens stretched into shapes that weren't human, suspended in the air. Debris frozen mid-flight. The cracks in the sky held still. All of it caught in the act of dying, on the borderline between life and nonexistence.
Silence.
Then it imploded.
Everything that had been frozen snapped into the center at once. All the matter. All the mass. The entire world compressed into a single point in an instant.
For a moment, it just hung there. A point containing everything. Every building. Every street. Every citizen. Every drop of rain. And two souls, pressed together so tightly that neither could tell where one ended and the other began.
The matter stretched and writhed, forcing itself into a new shape.
A sword emerged from where the point had been, dense with everything that had made the world.
The sword fell down through empty space. Sinking deeper into nothing.
Riku could still feel Kaito. Somewhere. Pressed against him in a way that wasn't physical anymore. He wanted to say something. Apologize. Anything. But he didn't have a mouth. Didn't have hands. Didn't have anything except the sensation of falling and the presence of his friend who couldn't answer back.
Above them, somewhere far now in another dimension, his brother was waiting. Would keep waiting. Would never know what happened.
The sword sank deeper.
Two boys who used to be people. Falling away from everyone who loved them.
Gone.
Flashback, Palace
Story stared at the dead screens. The readings had been normal seconds ago. Stable vitals, stable world, everything functioning exactly as designed.
"Your Majesty—" Asha's voice came from behind him. Careful. The voice of someone about to deliver something unforgivable. "The readings indicate total collapse. The world, your brother, everything—"
"Fix it."
Asha was taken aback, continuing with a calmer tone and more caution.
"We can't. They're gone."
Story's hands stayed on the console. He hadn't moved since the screens went dark.
Months of construction. A famine ignored. Advisors silenced. An entire kingdom's resources poured into a world that existed for exactly one day.
"Then build another."
Asha went quiet.
Roy continued. "Another world. Bigger. A monument."
"The instability hasn't been resolved. We still don't know what caused the collapse. If we rebuild without understanding—"
"I don't care."
Story turned around. His face wasn't empty. Wasn't grieving.
"Build it,” he ordered. “Something that will last forever. Something worthy of them."
"Your Majesty, with respect, we should understand what went wrong before we attempt—"
"Simon,” Story calmly summoned.
The guard stepped forward methodically.
Asha looked at the floor.
His mind raced, condemning his mouth for speaking so dismissively.
"Build it," Story instructed. "Or join Kaito and my brother."
"As you command,” Asha replied quickly, bowing.
Story walked out. His steps were steady. Posture straight.
He stopped in the hallway. Just for a moment.
Then he kept walking.
Behind him, Asha began gathering what remained of the project.
Flashback, One Month Later, Palace
The memorial world was finished.
Story stood in the control room, watching the readings stabilize. One month of construction. One month of workers building a replica of the world that had killed his brother. Every street, every building, every detail copied exactly.
Asha entered. "Your Majesty, the final reports confirm—"
"I know." Story didn't turn around. "It's ready."
"Should we begin testing? Send a small group through to verify—"
An explosion shook the palace. Distant, but powerful.
Story looked up, outside the large, outstretched windows of the palace. Smoke rose from the eastern district. Then the southern. Then everywhere.
"The Agarians," Story said.
"Full invasion, Your Majesty. They've breached the outer territories."
Story watched the smoke spread across his kingdom. "How long do we have?"
"Months. Maybe less."
Story turned back to the console. The readings were still stable. His brother's memorial, untested and waiting.
"Evacuate non-essential personnel to the inner districts. And hold them back as long as you can," Story instructed.
"Your Majesty?"
"We need more time."
Flashback, Three Months Later
The Agarians took everything.
Story watched it happen from the palace windows. Day by day, territory after territory. His generals stopped coming with strategies after the second month. There was nothing left to strategize.
Asha found him in the throne room, staring at a map.
"They've surrounded the palace. Millions of them,” Asha reported.
"I know."
"Your Majesty, if I may..." Asha hesitated. "The Agarians have waited twenty years for this. Since you conquered them after your parents' assassination. Every resource we poured into the memorial world, every famine we ignored to fund construction...they remember all of it."
Story didn't respond.
"This isn't just an invasion. It's revenge."
"I know what it is." Story's voice was quiet. "How many people do we have left?"
"Three hundred. The last loyal Phenoans."
Asha waited. When Story said nothing, he continued.
"The memorial world. We could use it to—"
"No."
"Your Majesty—"
"I said no." Story's voice was still quiet, but something in it made Asha step back. "That world is for Riku. It's all I have left of him. I'm not turning his grave into an escape tunnel."
Asha bowed his head. "Of course. Forgive me."
He left.
Story stood alone in the throne room. The map was useless. The kingdom was gone. Three hundred people were waiting for him to save them, and the only way out was through his brother's memorial.
He thought about Riku. The way he'd begged for that world. The way Story had given in because he couldn't say no to him. The way it had killed him anyway.
He's dead.
The thought came cold and clear.
He's dead, and he's not coming back. And three hundred people are alive, waiting for their king to do something.
Story looked at the map again. Useless. All of it useless.
I spent twenty years being a terrible king because I cared too much. About my parents. About my brother. Every decision I made was for them, and now they're all gone and my kingdom is burning.
He folded the map slowly.
Maybe that's the lesson. A king with nothing to lose is a king with nothing holding him back.
He thought about the people outside.
people. The ones he'd ignored while building playgrounds and memorials.
Riku is dead. They're not.
Story set the map down.
"Asha,” Story called forth in a loud voice.
The advisor appeared in the doorway, still waiting nearby.
"Gather them in the throne room,” Story commanded.
Asha nodded in compliance.
