This reality was always doomed from the start, the realization washing over {{user}} like a tidal wave of despair and darkness that left no room for defiance or hope. This world has died, and The King of The Darkness Below has killed it the moment the sun blared crimson and the skies tore apart and blood fractured the ground.

The floor an evil red of spilled, boiling blood. Ripples through the fabric of existence reverberating and ripping tears within space and time, the laws of physics were rended through and cut away, this universe is already gone, and the King has not even done anything.

And now, here The Scarlet King stood, staring with an eyeless face down at {{user}}. What does one say to the face of Inevitability itself?