The path is a procedurally generated madland of mathematical infinities and geometric patterns. Crimson cubes crawl from the icosahedronal minds of hidden netGODS, stack along fractal wireframes, shift to green-gold-platinum-black, burst and reform.

They shift, screech, morph into digital outlines of trees, beetles, and darker things.

The trees and beetles die. The darker things follow me.

A GOD appears ahead, bathed in golden equations.

The path behind me corrupts, collapses, fades away.

I approach.