Malthus talked about my family.
My very dysfunctional, milk-offering, logic-allergic family.
Apparently, they were still alive.
Which, honestly, was the biggest plot twist since I learned Sexis' name wasn't censored by the literary gods.
He said he knew I'd come back someday, so he kept them alive.
Not out of mercy — no, that man's allergic to compassion — but because he wanted to watch the chaos unfold in 4K.
Then he dropped the emotional bomb.
He didn't want to talk about my family anymore.
He wanted to talk about his.
He spread his arms, chest glowing like a demonic LED light show, and unleashed a red circular wave.
It shot out like a ripple of divine Wi-Fi — except instead of connecting devices, it connected doom.
The crimson ring expanded, swallowing the sky, the continents, the atmosphere, probably even the hope left in the ozone layer.
And then—
It vanished.
Everyone waited.
Silence fell like a bad sequel.
Then—
Things happened.
I sensed something coming.
