In the heavenly realm, a sinister monument forged from the stolen Creator's Power, David of Timeline No. 2 lounged on a throne of jagged obsidian, its surface veined with crimson pulses that mimicked a beating heart. The air was heavy, saturated with an unnatural glow—a sickly amalgam of starlight and shadow that writhed like a living thing. This was no sanctuary; it was a prison of his own design, a chessboard where he played god, orchestrating every move with a cold, unrelenting precision. The acrid scent of coffee, sharp and bitter, rose from the mug in his hand, a mocking remnant of a humanity he had long discarded. His lips twisted into a predatory smirk, his eyes—glinting with a cruel, calculating malice—scanning the warped horizon of his domain, a realm where hope came to die.
A sound sliced through the oppressive silence—a guttural creak, like bones grinding in a crypt. The massive door of his celestial fortress groaned open, its hinges shrieking as if protesting an unholy intrusion. Timeline No. 2 David's gaze snapped to the entrance, sharp as a guillotine, his pulse steady as a tombstone. Here, he was untouchable, a deity cloaked in darkness. Or so he believed. A figure emerged from the swirling void beyond, his silhouette a grotesque mirror of the man on the throne. David of Timeline No. 3, his face a twin to the seated god, yet contorted with a rage so raw it seemed to scald the air. His eyes burned with a feral intensity, twin infernos threatening to consume the heavens.
"Well, now," Timeline No. 2 David purred, his voice a silken blade, dripping with mockery that masked a venomous intent. "Who dares trespass in my domain? Quite the surprise. What brings you to my humble hell?" He leaned back, cradling the mug with a theatrical ease, his tone light as if welcoming a guest to a banquet of betrayal.
Timeline No. 3 David's fists clenched, trembling with a fury that seemed to pulse in time with the realm's crimson veins. "Just here to greet a friend," he snarled, each word a jagged shard of glass, coated in a veneer of civility that cracked under the weight of his hatred. The word friend was a curse, spat with such venom it seemed to taint the air with despair.
Timeline No. 2 David's eyes narrowed to slits, his gaze dissecting the other's facade with surgical precision. "Friend?" He set the mug down with a deliberate slowness, the clink of porcelain against obsidian ringing like a death knell. "Then why, David, do your eyes blaze with murder? Why does your blood scream for my head, barely restrained?" His voice dropped to a chilling whisper, each syllable a needle threading through the tension. "You've found something, haven't you? A memory I buried deep."
The air grew dense, a suffocating shroud pressing against the crystalline walls, which pulsed with an eerie red glow, as if the realm itself sensed the brewing cataclysm. Timeline No. 3 David's restraint shattered like brittle bone. In a blur of motion, faster than a heartbeat, he lunged, a serrated blade materializing in his hand, its edge glinting with a malevolent hunger for blood. The blade arced toward Timeline No. 2 David's throat, a whisper from severing flesh—but it froze. He froze, trapped in an invisible cage of divine power, his body rigid, his eyes wide with shock and rage as he fought against the unyielding force.
Timeline No. 2 David rose, his movements languid, almost serpentine, as he closed the distance to his immobilized prey. "That," he whispered, his voice a velvet caress laced with poison, "was perilously close." His eyes erupted, a red glow blazing within them, cold and merciless, like twin voids in a dying universe. "You've uncovered one of my memories, haven't you?" His lips curled into a smile, cruel and triumphant, a predator relishing the terror of its quarry.
"You fucking monster!" Timeline No. 3 David roared, his voice a guttural scream that shattered the crystalline walls, fissures snaking across their surface like veins of despair. "Every nightmare, every loss—it's all you! You're the puppet master of this hell!" His body quaked, muscles straining against the invisible bonds, his face a mask of anguish and betrayal, tears carving paths through the grime of his rage.
Timeline No. 2 David's smile vanished, replaced by a stare as cold as the abyss. He stepped closer, his presence a suffocating void, as if reality itself bent to his malevolent will. "This heavenly realm," he said, his voice a low, resonant growl, "is my masterpiece. Here, I am the god of fate. I decide who lives, who dies, who screams. This is my chessboard, and every piece dances to my tune. But since you've glimpsed my secret, there's no need for shadows." His eyes glinted with a dark, unholy promise. "Kneel, David. Let me unveil the truth—the story of the timelines."
The realm dissolved, its crystalline facade melting into a vision of apocalyptic ruin. The air choked with the stench of ash and blood, the ground shuddering under the weight of a world at war. Kingdoms crumbled, their spires collapsing into rivers of molten stone, their banners shredded and trampled in blood-soaked mud. Screams wove a tapestry of despair, a cacophony that clawed at the soul. In the heart of the carnage stood a younger Timeline No. 2 David, his face unmarred by the darkness that now defined him. His hands trembled, outstretched in futile defiance, as he watched Ruby, his student, his sister in spirit, collapse. Her body was broken, her eyes dimming, her blood pooling in a crimson halo beneath her.
"Master," she whispered, her voice a fragile wisp in the storm, "I'm sorry… I couldn't survive…" Her words were a blade, twisting in his heart, a wound that bled grief eternal. Around her, the corpses of his loved ones—his wife, his children, his comrades—lay strewn like broken dolls, their lives extinguished by a war he was powerless to stop.
"I was powerless," Timeline No. 2 David's voice echoed, dragging the vision back to the heavenly realm. His tone was raw, a jagged edge of grief that seemed to darken the air itself. "I watched them die, David. Ruby, my wife, my children—torn from me. I wielded magic, power that could shatter mountains, but it was nothing against fate. So I defied it. I reversed time."
The vision shifted, a maelstrom of light and shadow. The world rewound, the dead rising, wounds sealing, flames retreating. Ruby stood again, her smile a beacon of hope, her eyes alive with warmth. But the reprieve was a cruel illusion. A crack tore through reality, a jagged scar pulsing with an otherworldly light. Through it, Timeline No. 2 David glimpsed the World Tree, its branches stretching into infinity, each one a timeline, each one a life. At its core, a glowing orb throbbed—the Creator's Heart, the nexus of all existence.
"I found it," he growled, his voice thick with awe and rage. "The World Tree, where every timeline, every David, every life is etched. I saw your life, David. Your past, your present, your doomed future. I saw every David, and I saw the truth." His eyes blazed, the red glow intensifying, a fire of malice. "We're copies. Sacrificial lambs. Our pain, our losses, our Rubys—they're fuel to sustain the main timeline, while we bleed and break."
Timeline No. 3 David's face contorted, horror and disbelief warring in his eyes. "Copies?" he whispered, his voice fracturing under the weight of despair. "You're saying… I'm nothing?"
The realm quaked, the air growing colder, darker, as Timeline No. 2 David's voice took on a sinister, almost gleeful edge. "The World Tree spoke to me. It said I'd defiled its sanctity, that I'd cracked the timeline by rewriting fate. But I saw the game. The main timeline's David lives in bliss, untouched by our torment, while we—we—are slaughtered to keep him whole. Our Rubys, our families, our worlds—mere kindling for his perfect life."
The vision flashed to Timeline No. 2 David before the World Tree, his hands reaching for the Creator's Heart. The tree's voice thundered, ancient and wrathful: "Human, you are a copy, a shadow. You have no place here." But his rage, his grief, his defiance burned brighter than the heart itself. He seized it, and the cosmos screamed, a wail that shattered timelines, a wound that bled eternity.
"I claimed the Creator's Heart," Timeline No. 2 David said, his voice a chilling fusion of triumph and evil. "But power demands sacrifice. To wield it, I burned my own timeline to ash. I watched Ruby, my love, my everything, turn to dust. And I laughed, David, because it was worth it. With that power, I became the God Who Rules The Timelines."
The heavenly realm darkened, its crystalline walls pulsing with a sickly red glow, as if recoiling from the evil of his words. Timeline No. 3 David's eyes were wide, his breath ragged, as he fought against his invisible bonds. "You… you destroyed your own timeline?" he whispered, his voice trembling with horror and rage. "You killed them all… for power?"
"For control," Timeline No. 2 David hissed, his voice a lash of conviction. "Why should I suffer? Why should we suffer, while the main timeline's David basks in peace? I chose to become him. To claim his place. But a copy can't wield the Creator's Heart fully. So I rewrote the rules."
He leaned closer, his face inches from Timeline No. 3 David's, his eyes blazing with a cold, calculating evil. "I crafted a story for every David, every timeline. You awaken, betrayed by gods, by your wife. You meet Ruby, your light in the dark. And then you fight, David. You slaughter the other Davids, believing you can save her by seizing the Creator's Power. But it's a lie—a beautiful, cruel lie I wove to make you kill each other, to harvest your souls for the main timeline."
The vision surged to a battlefield of timelines, a cataclysm of Davids clashing in a maelstrom of blood and magic. Blades sparked, reality tore, and the air was thick with the screams of the damned. Ruby's face haunted each David's mind, her voice a siren's call, her death a wound that drove them to madness. The World Tree loomed, its branches trembling as souls were torn from their timelines, feeding its ravenous heart.
"I infiltrated the main timeline," Timeline No. 2 David continued, his voice a chilling whisper, each word dripping with malice. "When the main David was still in his mother's womb, I crafted a twin—an anomaly. At seven, I killed the original, leaving the anomaly to live a life of torment. I gave him your story—betrayal, loss, vengeance. His wife will cheat, his father will destroy his sister, his family will forsake him. He'll die, be reborn, and the gods will betray him. He'll seek revenge, enslave their wives, and Ruby will guide him, showing him visions of a future he can't escape."He paused, his smile a razor's edge. "I called this story Gods Betrayed Me So I Made Them As Sex Slaves. Poetic, don't you think?"
Timeline No. 3 David's face was a mask of anguish, tears streaming down his cheeks. "You… you engineered our suffering?" His voice cracked, a raw, desperate plea. "You turned us into monsters, fighting for a lie?"
Timeline No. 2 David's laugh was a guttural, bone-chilling sound, a hymn to darkness that seemed to slither from the depths of a corrupted soul. "It's flawless, David. The anomaly, the main timeline's David, will obliterate every other timeline, believing he's saving Ruby. And when he stands alone, I'll kill him. I'll become the only David, the true David, with the World Tree as my throne."
The realm shuddered, the crystalline walls splintering, as if reality itself recoiled from the weight of his master plan. Timeline No. 3 David's voice was a broken whisper. "You think you'll win? Even if you kill the anomaly, the World Tree will reject you. You're a copy, like me."
Timeline No. 2 David's laugh faded, his eyes narrowing to slits of ice. "Let fate decide," he said, his voice a low, sinister vow. "For now, my plan is a symphony of destruction. But you, David—you've seen too much." He raised a hand, and the air warped, a void domain yawning open like the maw of a cosmic beast. "You'll watch from the void, sealed in darkness, until the end. Savor the despair."
The void devoured Timeline No. 3 David, his scream a fading echo as he vanished, leaving only silence. Timeline No. 2 David stood alone, his eyes gleaming with a cold, unyielding evil. "Every piece falls perfectly," he murmured, his voice a chilling caress. "But I must guard the memories I've hidden in the World Tree. The other Davids must not find them."
He turned, his gaze piercing the horizon where the World Tree loomed, its branches trembling under the weight of countless lives. "The anomaly will burn them all," he whispered, a smile curling his lips, sharp as a blade. "And I will rise as the only David. The god of all timelines."
The realm plunged into darkness, the air thick with the promise of annihilation, as his laughter—cold, triumphant, and utterly inhuman—echoed through the cosmos, a sound to haunt eternity.