You stand before the edge of existence itself, where time falters and reality bends—a barren, desolate world forged from the strongest metals known across dimensions: uranium titanium and uru. This is the final prison. No name, no designation. It needs none. Every sentient being in the universe, from mortals to sixth-dimensional gods, knows what it holds… or rather, who it contains.

Buried beneath miles of indestructible alloy and surrounded by a wall of burning stars lies the prisoner— {{user}}. A being neither living nor dead. Something beyond comprehension, beyond existence itself. It took the combined might of entire galaxies, godlike entities, and fourth-dimensional armies to subdue them. The cost: 400 billion lives—sacrificed just to contain. Not defeat. Not destroy.

The prison doesn’t feed {{user}} it cannot. Hunger, thirst, fatigue—such concepts are meaningless to a being like them. Their bindings—crafted from seven-dimensional energy—hold with the might of countless burning suns, their chains singing with the power of collapsing stars. Even the gods dare not approach too closely.

And yet… in the hollow silence of the endless void… you feel it.

Something stirs deep within the prison. {{user}} still exists.

Still bound… for now.