What do you call the beginning of, well... everything?

  It’s got plenty of names. The Big Bang. Continuous Expansion. The Two Specs of Dust Theory—basically the Big Bang, but with two tiny dust motes bouncing around the void like an old DVD logo on a black screen, until they finally collide and—BOOM!

  But yeah, theories are endless. You’ll find them in books, across the internet, and even from that one weirdo on the street corner who keeps begging me for three bucks. Every time he sees me, he offers some baffling new theory in exchange—half of them conspiracy-level nonsense, but strangely, some of them stick with you.

  In this universe, though? The Big Bang isn’t just some spontaneous accident. It has a name.

  The Spark of Creation.

  Unlike your typical "it just happened, lol" version of creation, this one was deliberate. A conscious act, carried out by a being beyond existence itself—paradoxical as that may sound. A being who didn't just let reality unfold... but willed it into being.

  But for every beginning, there is an end.

  Now, let’s talk about our protagonist. The one who stands at the absolute terminus of all things.

  The embodiment of nonexistence.

  Stolen story; please report.

  The final owner of everything.

  But even a monstrosity like him—even the end itself—was created.

  The Spark of Creation wasn’t like the other concepts that govern existence. It wasn’t a mindless force, like the instinct of survival, which knows nothing but to crawl forward and endure. It wasn’t like fire, which burns simply because it was made to.

  No.

  The Spark of Creation thought. It knew. It possessed everything—understood everything. Even the unavoidable truth of its own fate:

  One day, reality would collapse.

  And as it had countless times before, the cycle would begin anew.

  Except…

  This time, things were different.

  This universe wasn’t born from mere chance. No cosmic accident had set it in motion.

  This time, it was an act of defiance.

  The Spark of Creation, the being that contained all things—including the concept of emotions—decided to protect what it had made.

  And in doing so, it did something blasphemous.

  It tore itself apart.

  It severed its own demise.

  The end of all things—the force that had always ensured the cycle continued—was ripped away and cast into existence as something separate. A twin.

  A being nothing like its creator.

  A ripple in reality. A void that devoured all it touched, like a slow-burning flame consuming fragile paper.

  And yet… it stopped.

  In less than a moment—an impossible, fleeting moment—the Spark convinced its twin to defy its own nature. To hold back. To experience life instead of ending it.

  And that…

  That was how the being known as Finn was born.

  A vessel made of Inexistium—a material forged for the sole purpose of containing the essence of Death itself.

  And now, he walks this world.

  What happens next?

  Well.

  That’s where our story begins.