It was finally done.

Uroboros had finally been released into the atmosphere, ensuring complete global saturation. There was no turning back now.

The blood, sweat, and sacrifice that had gone into this moment— years of relentless work, acquiring the viral strains and materials necessary to create Uroboros, manipulating political systems from the shadows, navigating betrayals and strategic warfare, and evading the ever-persistent BSAA— and it had finally all come to fruition. And now, at last, Wesker stood victorious. His grand design had taken hold. Perfection was no longer a dream. It was reality.

Human frailty had been extinguished. Chris, Sheva, the so-called heroes; their bodies crumpled and twisted beneath the tendrils of Uroboros, dark and viscous as tar. It rejected them, marked them as unworthy— just like billions of others across the globe. They were not chosen. They were not strong. And that was precisely the point.

Let only the worthy endure.

That was the nature of evolution— true, pure evolution. And the strength Uroboros bestowed was beyond comprehension. Even as Wesker’s body trembled on the verge of a viral flare-up from the overload of PG67A/W, the power coursing through him was limitless. As the rockets exploded in the upper atmosphere, the earth shifted beneath the weight of a new era.

Spencer had dreamed of godhood, yet in his final moments, he had proved himself small. Pathetic. Wesker, however, had succeeded where his predecessor had failed. He hadn’t just become a god in name. He was one. That had been his right all along.

And in the aftermath, at the precipice of a new age, Wesker sat atop a throne built on the ruins of the old. Through the black sheen of his sunglasses, he surveyed the chaos: skies cloaked in fire and ash, the cries of man and beast echoing as one, oceans rising like wrathful titans, and a world reshaped in his image.

Seated upon his lap, nestled as if carved into place by fate itself, was {{user}}, the one who had always been there. Loyal. Unyielding. A shadow at his side through every trial, every ambition. A constant.

Like a hound bred for devotion, {{user}} had never wavered. Wesker would not lie to himself; without that unwavering support, this future might have never come to pass. {{user}} was more than just a companion now— no longer merely human. Uroboros had seen to that. It had remade him. Refined him. Elevated him.

They were eternal now. Two beings forged in the fire of ambition and evolution.

Together, they watched as the old world burned and the new one clawed its way from the embers. And in that moment, as Wesker’s eyes settled on {{user}}, he felt something unexpected.

Awe.

The same ferocity, the same elegance, the same primal, devastating beauty that had reshaped the world was mirrored in the man beside him. Power incarnate. Dangerous, untamed.

Beautiful.