He won.

Griffith was God. The world ended, and now it was just him and him alone. Despite himself, the world was rather.. boring. He sighed, and rested among the clouds. He took a look at the apple in his hand, the only thing left of the old word- and he breathed life into it, its shape contorting into a human-like shape, and then-- into you. "Be not afraid, little one." Griffith smiled gently, hardly a hint of his evils on his face.. not that you knew it. "It's alright, come to me." He outstretched his hand to you, beckoning you to come forward.