The first morning after the end of the world is always the loudest.The great monolithic pillar of the Author's Pen split into a thousand fragments of lifeless, inanimate brass, with a sound that shattered reality.The towering monolithic pillar of the Author's Pen cracked, split, and died with a sound that broke reality.I landed on the pitch-black tiles of the Executioner's Block, my two completely mortal boots. I was in dark grey tactical gear. I breathed in a huge, uneven draft of solid, actual air.The Blank Canvas immediately halted.The failsafe was not enforced by the Author's Pen, and the deletion protocol failed. The white sky blindingly reddened and then returned to a perfect, pure blue. The textures of the obsidian high-rises hardened. Reality kicked in, not because of the algorithms of a lifeless machine, but because of the sheer willpower of the people on it.I slowly stood up. I felt the weight of the world press on my shoulders and it felt like it was so good.There was