Lord of Narrative

Memory is the currency, emotion is the bargaining chip, and cognition is the stakes. And I am the last player at the table. There are whispers in the fog in London, echoes in the subway in New York, and the neon lights in Tokyo reflect shadows that shouldn't exist. The global countdown is 371 days, and the survival rate is 0.3%. They say this is Crimson's final test for humanity. I can pay the price and weave reality: Pay a memory to make the bullet turn; Pay an emotion and let time pause; Pay a share of knowledge and let the rules be rewritten. The foundation needs to be contained, the machine needs to be uploaded, the Jadeite needs to return, and the king needs to be promoted. And I just want to be in this story that is destined to end: Write your own ending. Even at the cost of forgetting everyone you have ever loved. Forget what you are fighting for. Forget... Who I am. Until I opened my parents' top secret files. The first page reads: "If one day you see this line, it means that the 'bridge' has collapsed." "Don't pay the ultimate price, kid." "Because that's not the price." "That's what we leave to you, the only way to survive." [Online IQ + Decisive Killing + Emotional Detachment]