David and Luna stumbled from the shadows, their bodies drenched in the stench of blood and the weight of unspoken sins clinging to them like vengeful phantoms. The dimly lit inn was a festering wound of flickering candlelight and creaking wood, a hollow refuge where sorrow and rage boiled beneath their fragile silence. David's chest heaved, his crimson eyes burning with a storm of guilt and insatiable desire. Luna, her pale skin glistening with sweat, met his gaze—her trust a fragile thread he could snap with a thought.
Their bodies collided in a desperate, fevered embrace, passion erupting like wildfire tearing through a dry forest.
Her hands clawed at his back, nails digging into flesh as she gasped against his throat.
David's lips crashed against hers, tasting the salt of her tears and the metallic tang of blood still lingering from their earlier carnage.
The bed groaned beneath them, a pitiful witness to their primal need. Luna's thighs parted, her breath hitching as David's hands roamed with possessive hunger, fingers bruising her hips.
"David…" she moaned, her voice a trembling plea that stoked the inferno in his gut.
He thrust into her, hard and unrelenting, their bodies slick with sweat and sin. Her cries filled the air—raw, erotic, echoing off the cracked walls as he drove deeper, chasing oblivion in her warmth.
The world dissolved into a haze of flesh and heat, her curves arching beneath him, her breasts pressed against his chest as he claimed her with savage precision.
When it was over, Luna collapsed, spent and trusting, her chest rising and falling in the soft rhythm of sleep. David loomed over her, his crimson eyes glinting with something feral, something darker than the night itself. A cruel smirk twisted his lips, sharp as a dagger's edge.
"You've given me your trust, your body…" he whispered, voice low and venomous, "and I'll wield it like a blade to carve my name into this cursed world."
But then, a searing pain split his skull.
David clutched his head, a guttural groan escaping his lips as memories—vivid, violent, and unrelenting—flooded his mind like a dam bursting.
He saw it: the underground cave, damp and reeking of death. A masked man stood before him, his blade dripping with Luna's blood.
Her head rolled across the stone floor, eyes wide and lifeless, crimson pooling beneath her severed neck.
The man ripped off his mask—David's own face stared back at him, a jagged scar slicing through the right eye, a beard framing a sneer identical to his own.
That other David lunged, driving the blade through his chest. Pain exploded, blood gushed, and darkness swallowed him whole.
Back in the inn, David staggered, sweat pouring down his face, his breath ragged.
"What… what the hell…" he rasped to himself, his mind a chaotic whirl. "I died… by my own hands? How am I alive? What's happening to me?"
A sound pierced the air—*tch tch tch*—like the ticking of a cosmic clock, reverberating with a power that could shatter galaxies.
The inn vanished.
David blinked, and he was somewhere else—a boundless white void drenched in blinding light, yet alive with color. Nature sprawled around him: emerald trees swaying in an unseen breeze, iridescent birds soaring overhead, spirits shimmering like wisps of starlight.
Deer bounded through the grass, rabbits darted between flowers, and a serene scent—pure and intoxicating—filled his lungs.
Before him stood a table, simple and ancient, flanked by two chairs.
"Sit, David," a voice commanded, deep and resonant, shaking the very fabric of existence.
David's knees buckled under the weight of that voice—a presence vaster than the universe, older than time, stronger than any god he'd ever cursed. Trembling, he sank into the chair, sweat beading on his brow, his heart hammering in his chest.
A figure emerged from the light—faceless, cloaked in a swirling purple aura that pulsed with incomprehensible power. It sat across from him, radiating a quiet menace.
"Who… who are you?" David stammered, his voice barely a whisper.
"I am the Creator," the figure replied, its tone calm yet earth-shattering. "Not Eternal, as you might think. I created Eternal. I birthed the gods you despise."
David's eyes widened, shock slamming into him like a tidal wave. His hands gripped the table, knuckles whitening as his mind reeled.
"You… you're above the gods?" he choked out, disbelief cracking his voice.
The Creator's aura pulsed. "I know it's confusing, David. But listen closely. I'll explain, and you must follow the flow."
David nodded, his throat dry, his pulse racing as the Creator raised a hand.
Before them, a web of glowing lines materialized—countless threads of color weaving through the void, with a single white line cutting through the center like a lifeline.
"These are timelines," the Creator said, its voice a low rumble. "Lifelines, to be precise. Each one holds a different David. And every David has one goal: revenge."
David stared, his breath hitching as the colored lines flickered and began to fade, one by one.
"But none of you understood why you were reborn," the Creator continued. "Your purpose isn't destruction. It's protection. You were meant to safeguard the worlds you entered—not obliterate them."
The disappearing lines sent a chill down David's spine. "What… what's happening to them?"
"They're vanishing because the Davids destroyed their worlds," the Creator said, its tone heavy with judgment. "Driven by revenge, they razed their timelines to ash. Some faded entirely. Others survived, clawing their way toward something greater."
David's gaze locked on the white line—the only one unshaken.
"That's you," the Creator said, pointing. "The original David. The true timeline."
Silence fell, thick and suffocating. David's jaw tightened, his mind a storm of dread and realization.
"But here's the twist," the Creator pressed on. "The other Davids—those who survived—learned their worlds were false. Now they hunger for yours. The real one. They want to conquer it, to become you."
David's hands shook. "Why… why me?"
"Because only the original timeline can rebuild what's lost," the Creator said. "When they destroyed their worlds, their Rubies—their Lunas—died. They can't bring them back. Only you can. Your world holds that power."
David's mind flashed to Luna, sleeping innocently back at the inn. His stomach churned. "But… there's a David out there with a Ruby still alive?"
The Creator nodded slowly. "Yes. He achieved something extraordinary to reach this place. Even I don't fully understand how he kept her. But for now, I've contained him. The problem is you, David."
"Me?" David's voice cracked, his crimson eyes blazing with confusion and fury.
"You're weak," the Creator said bluntly. "The weakest of all the Davids, despite being the original. If you don't grow stronger, they'll come for you. They'll take your timeline, kill your Ruby, and everything—every world, every life—will collapse."
David's breath stopped. His fists clenched, nails biting into his palms as the weight of it crushed him.
"There's a war coming," the Creator said, its voice rising like thunder. "A war between Davids. And you must win. You're the key to the universe, David. The linchpin holding it all together."
A memory clawed its way to the surface—his original world, the one he thought he'd dreamed of destroying.
He saw it clearly now: his hands wreathed in dark godly power, annihilating cities, reducing eight billion souls to a mere thousand. Screams echoed in his skull, blood stained his hands, and now he knew—it wasn't a dream. It was real.
"I… I did that?" he whispered, horror strangling his words.
"Yes," the Creator said. "That was the true beginning of your downfall. But I'm giving you a chance to atone. Protect this timeline, David. Only you can."
A blinding light erupted from the Creator's form, surging into David's chest.
He gasped, his body igniting with a searing, intoxicating power—raw, infinite, burning through his veins like molten gold.
"This is my authority," the Creator said. "The power of the universe's maker. But you must become strong enough to wield it. This is your final chance."
David's voice trembled, but resolve hardened beneath it. "I… I'm still processing this. But I get it. I need to protect this world. I'll still hunt the gods who betrayed me—I'll have my revenge—but I won't destroy it. I'll rebuild it. I swear."
The Creator's aura softened. "Good, David. This won't be our last meeting. Remember what I've said."
The white void dissolved.
David jolted awake in the inn, Luna still asleep beside him, her soft breaths a stark contrast to the chaos in his mind.
He pressed a hand to his face, sweat slicking his skin as his thoughts spiraled. "Wow… holy shit… I didn't expect this. Killing the gods, the demon king, protecting this timeline from fake Davids—fuck, I'm screwed. My ass is gonna be worked to the bone."
His crimson eyes flared, a spark of madness igniting.
"Wait…"
A smirk crept across his lips, slow and sinister.
"What if I ruled them all?"
He laughed—a low, guttural sound that grew into a wild, unhinged cackle.
"Ha… haha… hahaha! Yes! What a glorious idea! I'll conquer every timeline! I'll be the only David!"
The room darkened as his laughter echoed, a chilling promise of evil unfurling like smoke. Something terrible was brewing in the depths of his soul, and the universe trembled at the edge of his newfound ambition.