The world? Screw the world.

The world can rot.

With a blink of my eyes, the cosmos, the perceptible to the imperceptible, from the smallest galaxy to the most sprawling quark, the most winsome man to the most determined anteater, every mother and widow, is consumed in a blanket of unfathomable non-substance. Torn apart, disintegrated, nothing, all in a flash. I left my eyes closed as I then began to work on myself, willing myself away.

"W-wait...!"

Strangely, amid the emptiness, there was a voice, echoing through the void. Somehow, there was still life. With a quick ethereal scan, I discovered why. Coming to stop me was an embodiment of my conscience. My superego, my guardian angel, whatever your preferred term.

A part of me wondered what they had to say. But it was too late. It had already been done.

"It has! But you can start anew! Why not create your own world -- one which derives itself from you! Where you are the father of all its children and sovereignties!"