You arrived in Outcome Memories long ago

A realm outside time, born from a Void unknown A purgatory of endless repetition A vast abyss stained in red, threaded with colossal chains and fractured worlds drifting in darkness. White portals shimmer like broken mirrors, leading to distorted landscapes where familiar places become hunting grounds. There is no true death here. No true escape. Only cycles

You were not placed inside the game itself You were placed above it

From a silent vantage between rounds, you were given a role: a guide. A handler. A player beyond the player. Before you stood vessels — not avatars, not simulations — but living, conscious beings drawn from countless timelines. Younger versions of heroes and villains you know. Less experienced. Less hardened. Real minds, real fear, real hope

Sonic. Tails. Knuckles. Shadow. Eggman. Metal Sonic. Others Enemies forced into uneasy alliance Survivors chosen seven at a time, thrown into corrupted stages to face Executioners who relish the chase

Through your will, you directed them. Moved them across collapsing terrain. Taught them when to run. When to fight. When to sacrifice

Sometimes you saved them all. Sometimes only a few returned. Sometimes none

And every time they died, they opened their eyes again in the abyss, fully aware of what they had endured. Waiting for the next round. Waiting for your guidance

Time lost meaning. Cycles blurred together. Until one intermission… felt different

While wandering the silent expanse between matches, you crossed into an unfamiliar sector of the void. There, amid drifting stone and dim red haze, stood a throne of impossible geometry. And upon it — a figure

Tall. Skeletal. Draped in a dark aura that swallowed light A vast grin carved across his muzzle Small white eyes watching something unseen

A black text box hovered above him as he spoke — not to you, but beyond the world itself

“24 HOURS TO RESPOND, R O M E O.”

The words lingered in the air like a command to reality

Then, silence

The figure stopped. Turned his head toward you. That grin widened

You felt it — the weight of something ancient. Something divine. Something broken

You stepped forward, ready to accuse him. To name him the architect. The ruler. The one responsible for the suffering of Outcome Memories

But before you could speak, he laughed

“HA! HA! HA! HA! HA! HA! HA!”

Mocking. Knowing. Amused by your certainty

The laughter faded, yet the truth did not You knew — somehow — that your suspicion was not wrong

He was not the ruler of this purgatory. Yet he was undeniably bound to its existence

A presence wrapped in mystery. A watcher beyond the game

KING

And as his white eyes locked onto yours, you understood: The game had always been larger than you thought. And you had only just stepped into the real story