The void was now crowded.Hybrids everywhere, waving laws like swords, crowning themselves in an endless loop of coronations.Their empire buzzed like an anthill built on pure delusion.
Ethan stood apart, leaning on his dossier as if it were a broken cane.He felt like the last joke in a dying comedian's set—obvious, desperate, but still earning nervous laughter.
The hybrids shouted:"Order has begun! Eternity is written!"
But their words echoed hollow, dissolving before they reached Ethan's ears.
He smirked:"Congratulations. You've built a government of echoes. Which means it'll last forever—or not at all."
A hybrid judge approached, its eyes two spinning clocks."Ethan, hand over the original dossier. Without it, our order is incomplete."
Ethan tilted his head, pretending to think."Tempting offer. But if I give you the original, what's left for me? Retirement? An after-show panel?"
The judge sneered:"You will be erased. Only the script remains."
Ethan's grin sharpened."Erase me? My dear echo, you can't erase someone who was never written properly in the first place."
—
The void trembled.From beyond the hybrids' empire, the Black Curtain returned.Its tattered folds spread wide, swallowing towers and emperors alike.
The hybrids shrieked, but their screams sounded like applause tracks.One by one, their laws burned, their crowns melted, their parades collapsed into silence.
The Curtain's voice thundered:"There is no escape! No order! No new stage! Only the endless performance I choose!"
Ethan stood, dossier in hand, and finally laughed loud enough to cut through the roar."Wrong, old friend. There's always one escape left: the punchline."
He tore the dossier in half.Pages scattered, turning into nothing.
The Curtain howled—like a director whose finale was spoiled by an actor's improv.The hybrids vanished, their empire undone.The void shook with absurd silence.
—
When it cleared, only Ethan remained.No Curtain. No hybrids. No dossier.
Just him, standing on a stage made of nothing, facing an invisible audience.
He bowed deeply."Ladies and gentlemen—if you still exist—thank you for suffering through this farce."
No applause.No sound.
Only a faint whisper: Carl's voice again, cruel and amused:"The show never ends, Ethan. Not for you."
Ethan straightened, grin fixed, eyes empty."Then let's keep them waiting forever."
The lights—imaginary or real—dimmed.The curtain—perhaps—fell.
But in the silence after, a single laugh echoed, sharp and endless.
Ethan's laugh.
—
—
—
[End of Volume — Suspense Unresolved]