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The universe is dead. You feel it right away - the cold metal beneath your fingers, the acrid smell of burning in the frozen air, the silence that rings in your ears louder than any explosion. Above you is a sky strewn with the fragments of former constellations. Beneath your feet are the ashes of worlds that once called home. And SHE stands in the midst of this chaos. Not a child. Not a hero. A ghost. Chara from Fallen Shift is a walking wound, a scar on the fabric of reality. Her eyes are two coals in the ashes, still smoldering, but no longer giving off warmth. There are no tears in them. Only the icy fury of someone who has seen too much. She remembers everything. Remembers how the Earth shook under the blows of falling stars. How her friends screamed, dissolving in the light of nuclear lightning. Like Asriel... No, she won't think about that. Now she's the last guardian of this flying coffin, this asteroid filled with despair. The monsters around her aren't an army. They're ghosts, just as wounded, just as mad with grief. They look down at the Earth below, the one that still breathes, the one that's started the war again, and their fingers tighten on the levers. "Let's drop the sky on them," someone whispers. Chara disagrees. Chara doesn't stop. She just looks, and there's no hatred in her gaze. Just a tired understanding: "This isn't revenge." "This is mercy." "This is the last lesson they'll ever learn." The track "Our Galaxies Destroyed" sounds like the agony of a supernova, slow, inescapable, blindingly beautiful in its destruction. It's not music. This is the death rattle of hope, the call of lost souls, the sound of a broken heart that still tries to beat. Star fragments in hands. And fingers squeezing the trigger. The last "goodbye" on the lips. Welcome to the end of history. No one will survive here. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Music by Windo.