The Final Volume: A Tiny World in the Dust; The Finale That Should Never Have Been; The Origin of All Evil

It was a cramped room, no bigger than fifteen square meters.

The mottled, aging cement floor was covered in scratches. A battered wooden cabinet stood against the wall, books were piled in a corner, and the ceiling fan creaked overhead. The fluorescent tubes at either end were pitch-black, and old newspapers, yellowed with age, covered more than half the walls, where the white paint had peeled away. Though the room was full of things, it didn't feel crowded. An indescribable emptiness seemed to emanate from every corner.

On the left stood an old glass window, half open. The exaggerated, orange-red glow of the setting sun streamed through it. On the right was a rusty old screen door; through its mesh, he could see the dim hallway outside. Small advertisements had been stuffed into the gaps in the screen.

It looked like a corner of an old apartment block in a factory neighborhood from thirty years ago, or a temporary home for a migrant worker who had come to the city.

Yusuo Zai reclined in a crooked chair, looking perfectly relaxed. One hand rested against his chin as if he were thinking, while the other reached forward.

On the low table before him sat a board game—or rather, calling it a board game wasn't quite accurate. The tabletop was marked with a few grids resembling tic-tac-toe, and, for some reason, it also had squares the size of playing cards carved into it.

For the record, there were no pieces or cards on the table.

Yusuo Zai seemed to have finally made up his mind. His outstretched hand moved toward the tabletop, as if to grasp something—

At that instant, the world changed.

An indescribable space, an indescribable vista, an indescribable opponent.

The only tangible thing was the board before him. It