The high-pressure night wind howling from the tower's glass dome thrashed against Zulfa's jacket and whipped wildly through Vian Pratama's neat hair as he stood at the edge of the open-air platform. Beneath their boots, the subterranean cosmic abyss pulsed violently, radiating a blinding purplish-blue glare.

The digital countdown timer on the upper deck's primary console flashed a fierce red, ticking relentlessly downward: 03:15 minutes remaining.

Vian Pratama gripped the pistol tight in his left hand, while his right hand leveled the weapon's muzzle straight at the reactor core panel. The corporate director's breathing heaved raggedly, his eyes bloodshot as he fixed Zulfa with a gaze full of madness and profound hatred.

"Do you see it, Zulfa?!" Vian screamed over the wail of the night wind, his voice pitching high. "Our time is up! The choice is in your hands now: let me finish this Total Purge and usher the city into a new eternity, or shoot me now and watch us both be blown to atoms as this tower collapses into the dimensional chasm!"

Zulfa stood frozen atop the steel platform. His heart hammered against his ribs, yet deep within his mind, the atmosphere abruptly warped into a profound, serene stillness.

He stared into Vian's face, and past memories flashed rapidly across his consciousness—a mental retrospective of his entire life's journey leading up to this critical second.

He remembered the early days drafting cover art concepts and fantasy novels in his cramped bedroom, sketching out imaginative worlds of heroes fighting tyranny. He recalled his grandfather's antique journals, the beloved father (Dr. Aris Arditama) silenced for defying the syndicate's project, and his sacred vow before the grave of Mr. Darma, who had laid down his life to protect him in the underground isolation cell.

He recalled Naya's smile during training, when the girl had promised to go away with him to watch the sunset outside the city once all these nightmares finally ended.

Does my journey have to end here? At the edge of this godforsaken abyss? Zulfa asked himself, feeling the crushing weight of his family's destiny pressing entirely upon his shoulders.

"Vian..." Zulfa called out with a raspy yet remarkably calm voice, cutting through the tension between gusts of night wind. He raised both empty hands into the air to signal he carried no weapon. "Lower your weapon. We can talk this through. This destruction won't bring back anything you've stolen from this city."

Vian laughed cynically, eyeing Zulfa with utter condescension. "Talk?! There's nothing left to talk about, Engineer! You think I care about your moralizing speech on humanity?! This world belongs solely to those bold enough to seize control!"

"You're wrong, Vian," Zulfa replied softly, stepping forward a single, deliberate pace. "Power built upon the suffering of others will never last. My father knew that, Mr. Darma knew that, and now... I know it too."

"Don't move closer!" Vian panicked, hauling back the pistol hammer until his finger bit hard against the trigger. "One more step forward, and I'll pull this trigger and shatter the reactor core right now!"

Zulfa halted. He lowered his head for a fraction of a second, drew a long breath, and raised his eyes back to meet Vian's with an expression of apparent surrender.

"Alright... You win, Vian," Zulfa conceded in a purposely weakened tone, his body language slumping as though all his strength and hope had drained away. "I surrender. I won't move any closer. Do whatever you want."

Hearing that admission of defeat, Vian Pratama's eyes ignited with absolute, triumphant glee. The cynical smirk on his lips widened, basking in the supreme satisfaction of breaking the mental fortitude of the 'Architect's' most hated descendant.

"Good... A smart decision, Zulfa," Vian taunted, lowering his guard slightly as he flicked a brief glance toward the countdown screen on the main console.

In the corner of the console screen, the digital numbers blinked rapidly: 00:15... 00:14... 00:13... 00:12... 00:11... 00:10 seconds remaining.

Ten seconds. The hour of reckoning had arrived.

Vian snapped his gaze back to Zulfa, raising his trigger finger for the final execution. "And now... say goodbye to your city, Zulfa!"

Yet at that exact second, Zulfa's expression—so meek a moment ago—sharpened into a blazing mask of iron-clad resolve. All hesitation vanished. He channeled every ounce of remaining stamina harvested from his Arkian cosmic energy adaptation straight into the muscles of his legs.

Right as the countdown hit ten seconds remaining—

"No, Vian. This match isn't over!" Zulfa roared.

Before Vian could slap the trigger home, with blinding speed Zulfa lunged forward like an arrow loosed from a bow, tackling Vian Pratama's body in a reckless, all-out charge.

Thud!

Zulfa's impact slammed squarely into Vian's chest, robbing the corporate director of his balance and sending them both tumbling in a violent roll across the open platform's steel plates. Vian's pistol slipped from his grip, skittering toward the edge of the subterranean cosmic abyss before vanishing, sucked into the purple energy vortex below.

"Argh! Damn you, Zulfa!" Vian shrieked hysterically, thrashing and shoving at Zulfa's body pinning him down.

The two men wrestled savagely at the edge of the deadly chasm, clawing at each other's collars amid the howling night gale and the reactor countdown ticking down its final digits.