This Hyperreal God Is An Overkill

The faint shimmer of flickering embers hung in the air, and the room's atmosphere felt suffocatingly surreal. 

The silvery white-haired woman, still clad in her neatly pressed corporate outfit—scrambled on her knees, clutching at scattered documents like a drowning person grasping for a life raft. 

Her breaths came quick and shallow, her hands trembling as she instinctively tried to organize the papers. 

"What… what is this?!" she exclaimed, her voice high-pitched, almost cracking. But she was more distressed at the fallen documents, ignoring the figure standing before her—the person who had, without any warning, dragged her through a flaming portal.

But to her credit, she was still suffering the unfamiliar nausea that was invading her, caused by the sudden multiversal traveling.

"You're panicking," a voice chimed, smooth and lilting, tinged with mockery. "And honestly, that's adorable."

The woman froze mid-motion, creeped out by the comment, her head snapping up toward the speaker. Her mouth opened, ready to deliver a sharp retort, but the words caught in her throat as her eyes fell on his face.

Her face.

Silvery white hair, glinting like molten starlight, cascaded down his shoulders. Closed eyes framed by thick white lashes curved upward in a playful, serene smile. A faint glow danced on his lightly tanned skin, and the tailored business suit he wore looked far more expensive—and bloodstained—than hers. 

Her gaze shifted to his name tag, where the word 'Surreal' gleamed in formal typeface.

Her heart skipped a beat.

"You—" she stammered. "You look just like me! With my name! What is this? Who—who are you?"

Surreal, the man version, chuckled softly, shaking his head in amusement. His two extra arms, sprouting grotesquely from the back of his waist, hung limply, twitching slightly like resting serpents. "Oh, I'm sure you're bright enough to put the pieces together. Though I must say…" He gestured at the scattered papers with a gloved hand. "Physical documents? Really? Only the lowest office grunts deal with those now that the entire system's gone digital. I guess that's what happens in a world where I don't end up as the manager of the Death and Rebirth Department."

Her brow furrowed, her hand clutching the documents tighter. "What… are you talking about? Manager? Also, why in the world do you have extra arms sticking out of your back?!"

He shrugged, brushing nonexistent dust off his immaculate blazer. "Ah, these?" He twitched one of the extra arms, flexing its fingers as though testing their dexterity. "Oh, they're just tools. Consider them a… professional upgrade. And as for the rest?" He spread his arms dramatically, the two extra limbs mirroring the gesture. "Congratulations! You've been chosen for an incredible honor: to become my new assistant!"

She blinked, the color draining from her face. "What? No, no, no—wait a minute. Assistant?! I don't even know what's happening! Where am I!? Is this some sort of an alternate reality!? You have barely answered any of them!"

He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he snapped his fingers, and the world around them began to ripple. The office floor cracked like fragile glass, and the walls dissolved into shimmering waves of iridescent light. A strange, otherworldly hum filled the air as the environment melted into something else entirely.

In the blink of an eye, they stood in a lavish, high-ceilinged lounge. Plush armchairs and sleek tables dotted the space, where holographic screens hovered, displaying streams of unreadable data. 

People bustled about, sipping coffee or holding animated conversations, yet none of them seemed to notice the pair's sudden arrival.

The female Surreal staggered backward, clutching at her head. "What… just happened?" Her wide-eyed gaze darted around the room before landing on him again. "You… you teleported us? No, that's not right. You warped the entire space around us to move our position."

He strolled over to one of the armchairs, smoothing his bloodstained gloves as he motioned for her to take a seat. "Relax," he said, his voice almost soothing. "Sit. Get comfortable. It's going to be a long day."

She didn't move, still staring at him with a mixture of shock and wariness. Her breathing slowed, her composure slowly returning as she straightened her skirt and pushed her disheveled hair behind her ears. Finally, she spoke, her voice steadier now. "You're breaking the vow of satiety."

Surreal raised an eyebrow—or at least he seemed to, despite his eyes being closed. "Am I now?"

She leaned closer, her expression sharp, lips pressing into a thin line. "No shaman of our tribe is permitted to use black magic for selfish or meaningless reasons. It's one of our oldest traditions. And to cast something on this scale…" Her voice faltered. "The energy and catalyst required must be immense. The law of equivalent exchange—what did you sacrifice to power this?"

He smiled wider, clearly amused. "Oh, now this is interesting. You're not even concerned about the vow itself—you're just curious about where I'm drawing the power from." He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the armrest as he clasped his hands. "Could it be… you've considered breaking the vow yourself? Don't lie to me, darling. You're tempted, aren't you? You've thought about it. Dreamed about it. But you lacked a reliable power source."

She stiffened, her lips parting as if to argue, but no words came. Her silence betrayed her.

"Thought so," he purred. "Now, before you go lecturing me about morality, let's cut to the chase. What I want is simple: you~

"Why? Well, it's because you're simply—me. And If I put this as your resume, your worth is as clear as the day. You're bright, resourceful, and, most importantly, you've got potential. A shame you've been wasting it as a lowly office grunt."

She narrowed her eyebrows. "I'll have you know I'm perfectly content with my position. The pay is still stacked, and I can get promoted if I work long enough."

He chuckled, shaking his head. "Oh, please. Don't flatter yourself. Regardless of the amount of contribution you made for the company, you won't get lifted up. The higher-ups in your world are misogynistic douchebags, and they will stay like that for about ten years or so…

"You're going nowhere, no matter how hard you work. A management position? Ha! That's a pipe dream, and you know it."

Her cheeks flushed, anger flashing across her face. "How would you know what's possible in my world?"

"Simple," he said nonchalantly. "Because our world played out very similarly outside of the fact that I have a rod here and yours is as smooth as it can get." He smirked as her expression turned to disbelief. "Oh, don't look so surprised. What, did you assume that I was also a female just because of this face and voice? How rude."

It took her a solid ten seconds to process that implication.

"Your appearance doesn't help," she snapped, crossing her arms. "You look more feminine than I do."

"And you have the audacity to comment on appearances with your eyes closed. Now that's insulting."

"Tch, the pot is calling the kettle black."

"And it takes one to know one~"

She scowled, but before she could retort, Surreal leaned forward, his tone suddenly serious. 

"Humanity is doomed."

The abrupt change in mood caught her off guard. Her arms fell to her sides as she stared at him, her mind struggling to catch up. "What?"

"Doomed," he repeated, his serene smile never faltering. "Wiped out. Annihilated. Humanity's days are numbered, and I've been chosen as the sole savior to prevent that outcome."

Her face remained impassive, but her tone dripped with sarcasm. "How many drugs have you taken today?"

"None," he replied, unbothered by her skepticism. "And I'm being entirely serious. This isn't just my world, by the way. Every iteration of Earth has its own version of apocalyptic events. Every Earth faces extinction, and every Earth has a chosen savior. In your world, that's not you—it's someone else. But in mine, it's me."

She was quite intrigued by the idea, but couldn't help but thinking if the apocalyptic event happened precisely to every universe where humanity exist, or only on Earth specifically within the universe that has one, which meant that humanity was not the only victim of this universal ticking bomb—since differing reality might have an Earth that was inhabited by a different life form.

Then again, this was only a speculation. She didn't know jack shit about what, when, why, and how multiple universes, realities, realms, dimension, or whatever the truth that plays in this disastrous theater.

"And what happens if the so-called 'chosen one' refuses?" she asked, gesturing her hand. "Surely, that's the path you would choose if you're me, right? Seeing how you're still sticking to this crazy bit, there seems to be an unfair catch."

"Eternal damnation," he answered, almost cheerfully. "Oh, and if I fail? Time was reset to the moment I was chosen. Over and over and over again."

How does the time reset work? Was it a time traveler? If so, since he mentioned other realities, or whatever it was—was the reset universal for every chosen one in their respective Earth, or does it differ relative to the progress of the chosen one?

Looking at the logical standpoint, this whole phenomenon was illogical.

Her expression didn't waver, but her words were pointed. "You really sound like someone who belongs in a padded room. How many times have you… restarted?"

He sighed dramatically, resting his chin on one of his hands. Her extra arms began gesturing in place of his real ones. "Too many to count. I've died in every possible way imaginable. Tried a lot of strategies, every angle. And still, the result is always the same: I die, or humanity gets obliterated. Mostly both, since humanity would still be alive in technicality if I was also still alive."

"And this time?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "What makes you think this attempt will be any different?"

He leaned back, folding all four arms across his chest as he smiled. "Because I have the most ingenious idea."

She stared at him, unblinking, though her eyes had always been closed since the beginning. "This ought to be good," she said sarcastically.

He straightened his tie, his serene expression unchanged. "The key to saving humanity… is the annihilation of humanity. Complete and total annihilation, from the very beginning, far before the appointed judgment day—except for me and you, of course~"

It took five seconds for her to finally realize the absurdity of the idea that was uttered by her alternate version, as if it wasn't surreal enough.

"... What?"

"I realized that many of the reasons why I failed in all of my attempts was because of the rest of humanity itself. Firstly, their existence can easily sabotage my plan with their countless unknown constants, because you know, the birth rate has overtaken the death rate by a lot for the past decades—and more humans means more variables.

"Secondly, there are three separate crucial annihilation events that just simply get triggered by the fact that there are a lot of humans around. This course of action will remove those threats from even coming.

"And lastly. I trusted nobody at this point. Not even the poor and starving beggar and your average Joe on the street. Not even the future version of that kindergartener you saw crossing the street everyday except the weekend. 

"I have abandoned all hope in humanity, but I was forced to save them by all means necessary." With the most raw and guttural voice of insanity, Surreal ended his speech as he leaned forward, shadows hovering his unfreed eyes, "Not even my loved one, I would trust with a single hair strand of mine."

The silence that followed was deafening. 

Her lips moved soundlessly before she finally found her voice. "Are you… for real?"

Surreal's expression brightened, his smile turning playful. "No, I'm Surreal." He tilted his head. "But you can take that name for yourself. Consider it your new anchor, or spiritual portfolio—since I'll be erasing every other iteration of myself across all possible universes, right about, now."

Before she could respond, the air around them rippled again as his extra arms finished their casting. A sharp, psychic wave tore through the space, warping the lounge into a futuristic corridor of steel and glass. At the same time, sending a rippling wave of precise psychic destruction that ventured far and wide beyond their current cosmic bubble. 

What lies at the end of the psychic wave's destination was nihil, and there was no stopping it until a force of equal level was cast to nullify this ever-growing hatred-made-manifest.

The black magic was delicate enough to barely affect anyone except for a different iteration of Surreals, and it didn't disrupt any pigment of existence or concept for it to warrant the attention of higher beings.

The female version of Surreal stumbled but quickly regained her balance, staring at Surreal with a mix of disbelief and grudging conflict in her heart.

"Come, Forreal." Surreal extended a hand toward her, his smile widening. "We've only just begun."