“Wow. I thought I had balls. Putting The Watcher in your game, huh? That’s some next level apostasy.”

Zhu’s respect for the developers shot through the sky as he gazed upon the perfectly rendered depiction of god. The blasphemous sight almost made up for all the suffering he went through.

“I suppose I should have expected this response. It’s only natural that such a lowly worm would be unable to recognize true greatness.”

“Dedicated to the bit, huh? I love it! But can you do me a favor and just tell me what I won? I am pretty tired—”

Zhu halted mid-sentence when countless fragments of his past that only he could have possibly recalled flashed before his eyes. Vivid recollections gave way to fantastical sights. He witnessed the birth of the universe, visited the epochs that preceded humanity, and saw the ruination that The Watcher unleashed sixty-three years ago.

“Y-you’re the actual Watcher.”

“I am indeed, little worm.”

There had been no confirmed records of The Watcher speaking since he had first revealed himself and smote the USSR for their impudence. Those old enough to recall that world-altering event could not agree what he sounded like. Some claimed that they were a gestalt legion who had relayed their message with a thousand voices. Others swore The Watcher hadn’t spoken at all and that it implanted visions in their mind that perfectly conveyed its warnings and stipulations. A few alleged The Watcher had spoken with a child’s voice and giggled as he incinerated millions of souls. Zhu suspected they were all correct.

The voice The Watcher used now was oddly plain. Evidently, he didn’t feel the need to impress or intimidate Zhu.

“So, you're the one that made Conquest?” Zhu mumbled, unable to think of anything more insightful to say.

“Is that really so surprising? Did you really think that your kind could have possibly conceived something so complex?”

In Zhu’s defense, The Watcher’s ruse had been an elaborate one. The people that were credited with Conquest’s creation were the perfect frontmen. Every single one of them had been a renowned inventor born into wealth. Even so, he felt like an idiot for falling for it.

“How could I have known? You’re The Watcher! You haven’t spoken or done anything in decades! You could accomplish a billion different things beyond our comprehension, but you’re telling me you used your powers to make a fucking video game of all things?” Zhu rubbed his forehead raw. “Why? Just why?”

“For the same reason, I have done anything—to amuse myself!” The Watcher chuckled. “And you have performed admirably in that regard. I wish I had performed this experiment sooner. Countless times I’ve seen humans destroy themselves in the pursuit of power, scraps of paper, and shiny trinkets, but to see someone throw everything away just so they can avoid reality is another thing entirely! It’s so delightfully pathetic!”

Zhu clenched his fist. Rage steadied his voice and burned away his fear.

“Sure, I am pathetic, but what did you expect? I’m just a little human being. A speck in an infinite macrocosm. What is your excuse?” The Watcher’s eye narrowed. It would have been wise to stop there, but when did Zhu ever let good sense get in his way?

“You’re The Watcher, an eternal all-powerful being, and what have you done with those gifts? This universe is barely alive; it’s a never-ending expanse of nothing. There are trillions of planets scattered across the galaxies and almost all of them are desolate rocks. The few life forms that do exist are hopelessly flawed, doomed to die because an idiot designed them! You are literally surrounded by your own failure. Is that why you made us? Did you need to mock and torment something even more pathetic than you just to feel better about yourself? Hah, maybe even that’s giving you too much credit! Are you really our creator? Maybe you're just some minor bitch god that gets bullied by the re—”

A flash of unimaginable agony cut Zhu’s tirade short. He collapsed, trying and failing to suppress his sobs.

“You dare insult me?” The Watcher laughed. “You’re more entertaining than I thought. I will let you off with that, but refrain from running your mouth again, lest you spoil the opportunity I am offering you.”

“What do you want from me?” Zhu gasped.

“I already told you, fool. I want you to amuse me. Humans were my favorite creations; no other creature has captivated me as much as your kind has!” The Watcher’s cheerful tone dipped. “But your kind has progressed too much. The scars of Hiroshima and Nagasaki have doused their enthusiasm for war. This modern era bores me.”

“What does this have to do with me?”

“Interrupt me again and you’ll have nothing to do with it,” The Watcher warned. “I intend on forging a new world. I might allow you to be reborn in it. If you play your cards right, you may even attain power approaching a god’s.” Zhu waited for The Watcher to continue, but the mercurial deity remained silent. He chortled when it took several minutes for Zhu to muster the courage to speak.

“Why me?”

“Do not think for a moment that you are special. I only picked you because I want to see what a worthless wretch like yourself will do when their sad escapist fantasies become a reality.”

A mirror rose from the ground in front of Zhu. A frightened young man stared back at him. He looked away from his reflection, disgusted by what he saw. He blinked, and the boy was gone. A grinning wyrm took his place.

“The form you chose suits you. Regardless of what you decide to do or how mighty you become, you will always be a worm that crawls on its belly. A piece to be manipulated by my hands. The question is whether you are content to remain another pawn on my chessboard, or will you try to drag yourself to the other side?”

“What’s the catch? Will the taste of shit constantly linger in my mouth? Will I just end up being a minnow in a vast ocean?”

“I do not need to play such underhanded tricks on you. I will grant you the strength that your false persona possessed. Whether you keep, expand, or lose that power will be determined by your actions.”

“Do I even have a choice?”

“If you lack the courage to accept my challenge, I’ll simply wipe this memory from your mind and return you to that stinking bathroom.”

It was the easiest decision Zhu had ever made.

“I’ll go!” Zhu growled.

“Hm, of course, you’re eager. But do you deserve this chance? You might have been tenacious while playing pretend, but when faced with real adversity, you were always quick to give up. This new world will be a fierce one; it is no place for weak-minded quitters.”

“Forfeit what?” Zhu chuckled derisively. The Watcher bristled at his impudent tone, but Zhu pressed on. “I was born in a world with nothing to look forward to. I had no aspirations. No ideals to commit myself to. All I could do was distract myself from the tedium of life.” He glared at The Watcher. “Things have changed. I have a goal now. If you remake me, I’ll make sure I achieve it no matter the cost.”

“Oh, and what is this goal of yours?”

Zhu rose to his feet. “I’ll go to this world of yours. I’ll gorge on everything that lives on its surface and grow until I am large enough to devour its continents and slurp its oceans dry. When there is nothing left of your creation, when there is nothing left to occupy your petty, scheming mind, my jaws will rise to the heavens and rip your eye out of the sky!”

“▂▃▄▅▆▇█▓▒▒▓█▇▆▅▄▃▂”

Reality itself could not handle The Watcher’s eldritch cackle. The ground split apart; the air rotted; color ebbed from the sky. Zhu clamped his hands over his ears, trying and failing to drown out the awful keening ringing in his head.

“Very well! Go little worm! Burrow into my new world and feast upon its soil until you are ready to challenge me! I’ll be waiting, so don’t you dare disappoint me!”

The world turned crimson. Indescribable agony subsumed every nerve in Zhu’s body. He would have heard his skeleton crack if his own screams hadn’t deafened him. The bones in his arms expanded so rapidly flesh and sinew exploded off of them. A new layer of black tissue formed around his arms once they had quadrupled in size. Azure scales bubbled out of his newly formed flesh. Tears dribbled down Zhu's face when the process repeated on his neck and torso. His cries became muffled when his face stretched out and gnarled tusks erupted from his gums. A moment later, his legs fused together and elongated until they formed an immense serpentine tail several times longer than the rest of his body.

Terrible as the growth spurt was, it paled compared to the torment radiating within Zhu’s innards. His blackening blood thickened and turned his enzymes against their host. His heart burst. His lungs withered. His stomach digested itself. One by one, the caustic reactants systematically dissolved Zhu’s internal organs until only his brain, gullet, and intestines remained.

Tar-like blood flooded Zhu’s entrails, fueling the tubular organs with unholy energy. As his entrails continued to absorb the foul fluids, they divided into a tide of segmented parasites with skittering legs. When the flow of biofuel finally ceased, the mutated organs fought one another for supremacy. They ripped each other apart until only four ropey tendrils remained.

Zhu didn’t know how long he just laid there wallowing in misery. His consciousness had flicked on and off throughout his transformation. It was a miracle that he hadn’t gone insane.

A sudden cold numbing sensation provided the reprieve he sought. When Zhu’s eyes fluttered open, he found himself sprawled out on a thin layer of snow. More of the cold white powder piled on top of him, threatening to bury him. Zhu wouldn’t have minded at that moment. Overwhelmed by his ordeal, he curled into a ball, eager to fall asleep for once.

“Zhulong! Zhulong!” a melodic voice woke him from his reverie. He saw a beautiful, winged figure making her way through the fog towards him. For a second, he thought it was a guardian angel coming to deliver him from this world, but he quickly dismissed that notion with a weak chuckle. Even if heaven existed, there was no way a rotten bastard like him would be admitted through its gates. As the figure closed in and her features became more distinct, he realized the angel wasn’t actually flying. A black serpentine tail simply had held her upper body aloft.

He grunted in surprise when the woman cradled his head in her arms.

“Sarin?”

“Creator, what ails you?”

Zhu just dumbly stared at her. He looked around and saw hundreds of other figures converging on them. He would have laughed at the look of concern shimmering in their eyes, but found that he lacked the strength to even do that.

Their plaintive cries lulled him to sleep.