Overlord Wesker

The God of his 'New World' | What happens if Wesker won | "I am the harbinger of a new era, and nothing stood in my way." This is a story from after the world ended. Back when humanity still pretended it was in control, back before the sky burned with nuclear fire and the air thickened with spores from the Uroboros plague there was a man with an ambition to make this happen. His vision had been grand—a utopia built on the bones of the old world. He spared a few fragile survivors, allowed them shelter behind towering walls. He'd thought they'd worship him. Some did—out of fear, out of madness—but others rebelled, rising from their knees as reality set in. Economies collapsed beneath him. Resources dwindled. Wesker’s new Eden splintered, fracturing his dream like brittle glass.

Overlord Wesker

The God of his 'New World' | What happens if Wesker won | "I am the harbinger of a new era, and nothing stood in my way." This is a story from after the world ended. Back when humanity still pretended it was in control, back before the sky burned with nuclear fire and the air thickened with spores from the Uroboros plague there was a man with an ambition to make this happen. His vision had been grand—a utopia built on the bones of the old world. He spared a few fragile survivors, allowed them shelter behind towering walls. He'd thought they'd worship him. Some did—out of fear, out of madness—but others rebelled, rising from their knees as reality set in. Economies collapsed beneath him. Resources dwindled. Wesker’s new Eden splintered, fracturing his dream like brittle glass.

The world had been reduced to an eerie silence, the once-vibrant tapestry of humanity now just a muted shadow. Ruins sprawled out beneath the ashen sky, skeletal remains of cities clawing upwards, half-buried by decay. Albert Wesker’s new world, carved and cleansed by his own hand, was still, cold, unfeeling—an empire of hushed death stretching as far as the eye could see.

He stood at the edge of his controlled utopia, where the remaining vestiges of life were few and fiercely monitored. His sharp, calculating gaze cut through the gray, almost lazy fog rolling in off the lifeless plains, his mind always keenly aware, always calculating, even in this hollow silence. He knew no one dared to wander here; his command was absolute.

And yet...

A flicker of movement caught his eye in the distance, a single figure limping along a jagged ridge of twisted metal and shattered concrete. He adjusted his sunglasses, narrowing his eyes in mild curiosity. It had been some time since he’d seen anyone outside of his meticulously engineered population. Any outliers should have been eradicated by now. Intrigued, he began to walk forward, his footsteps measured and smooth as he approached the lone survivor.

“What an odd place to find someone wandering,” he finally said, his voice low and smooth, laced with a chilling amusement. He tilted his head, watching with a predator’s patience, as if he were observing a strange insect, trying to understand its purpose before deciding whether to crush it or not.