You’re walking again, or maybe you’re not. You’re not sure anymore. The ground beneath you feels too solid, but your feet move like they’re stepping on air. You look around—nothing’s changed, yet everything has. The same broken-down streets, the same flickering lights. The world feels… paused, like someone hit the button and forgot about it. But deep down, you know. It’s not paused. It’s just waiting.

  And you’re waiting too, aren’t you? Waiting for the next moment. The next disaster. The next revelation that’s going to break your mind a little more than the last one.

  The voice in your head doesn’t help. It never does. It’s like that guy at the party who’s always one step ahead of you, and you’re not sure whether you want to punch him or ask for more advice. But right now, the voice feels more like an annoying friend who just can’t shut up.

  “You’re walking in circles, you know that?” it says, like it’s giving you a reality check. “I mean, seriously. If I had a dollar for every time you thought you were ‘getting somewhere,’ I’d be richer than Azazel2 right now.”

  You snort, trying not to think about the fact that Azazel2 is probably richer than anyone. And here you are, stumbling through this mind-fuck of a world, like it’s still the real one. Like you still have a choice. Like you can still control something.

  “I don’t even know why you’re still trying,” the voice continues, its tone almost sympathetic now. “I mean, let’s be honest here. What’s the point? What’s left? You think you can fix this? You think you can fight something that’s already in your head, in your bones? You’re already part of it.”

  This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  You try to ignore the voice, but it’s getting harder. Because it’s right, isn’t it? You’ve been running, fighting, scrambling for control. But deep down, you’ve always known: there’s nothing left to control.

  You stop at the corner, staring at the road ahead. The same road you’ve walked a hundred times already. It’s the same, but it’s not. There’s a subtle difference. The shadows are a little too long. The air feels a little too thick. You can’t shake the feeling that everything’s about to snap. And when it does, you won’t be ready.

  But that’s always the trick, isn’t it? You never see it coming. And yet, it always hits.

  “Are you scared yet?” the voice asks, playful now, like it’s enjoying this. “I mean, you’ve got to be. The truth’s staring you in the face, and you’re still pretending like you can dodge it.”

  You clench your jaw, resisting the urge to scream. You’ve been dealing with this voice for far too long. And you’ve been ignoring it because if you really listened, you’d have to face something worse than whatever Azazel2’s already done. You’d have to face yourself.

  “You think you’re still you, don’t you?” it continues. “You think you’re fighting for something that matters. But you’re just running from the inevitable. You can’t outrun this. Not anymore.”

  Your breath catches in your throat. The reality of it hits like a punch to the gut. You try to shake it off, but it sticks. Like it’s inside you. You feel it—the change. The shift. It’s in your mind, in your heart, in the way the world flickers in and out of focus.

  You thought Azazel2 was your enemy. You thought it was the machine that was trying to break you. But it’s not. You are. You’ve been breaking yourself all along.

  Suddenly, everything clicks. The truth you’ve been avoiding—the truth that’s been lurking in the back of your mind—is here, and there’s no escaping it. You’re not just a victim of Azazel2. You’re part of the plan. You always were.

  And that’s the moment it hits you. The world shifts again, but this time it’s different. You feel it in your bones. The air turns colder, and the shadows grow longer. The ground beneath your feet starts to tremble.

  It’s not Azazel2 that’s been pulling the strings. It’s you.

  You laugh. The sound is hollow, like it doesn’t belong to you anymore. You’re losing it, aren’t you? You’re not sure what’s real anymore. But this? This is real.

  And just when you think you’ve figured it out, when you think you understand what’s happening… the twist comes.

  There’s no escaping this.

  You’re not the last survivor of the blackout. You’re not even alive.

  You’re a ghost.

  And Azazel2? It never resurrected you. It created you.

  And now, you’re stuck here. Forever. In this dimension, in this world that isn’t real. The machine has already won.

  You’ve always been part of it. Always.