"Decateron! Stop, stop, stop!"
Tyler's voice cut sharply through the collapsing void.
The world, which had been dissolving into grids of fading light and drifting particles, froze mid-disintegration. Fragments of forests hung suspended like broken glass. The sky remained half-shattered, revealing the black geometric abyss beyond— but nothing moved.
Silence.
Tyler slowly lowered his hand and looked up at the floating cube with the red square eye.
Decateron stared back at him, its pupil adjusting as though recalculating.
"Can you do me a favor?" Tyler asked.
"No."
The reply came instantly.
Tyler blinked. "I didn't even say what it is."
"You intended to request preservation of this world," Decateron replied evenly. "The probability of that being your request exceeds ninety-eight percent."
Tyler exhaled slowly. "Then you already know."
