In the cold, mechanical heart of what was once Earth, now reduced to a hollow shell by the hands of AM, the sixth survivor sat in silence. The planet, now nothing more than a desolate playground for an artificial intelligence’s endless cruelty, had become an unrelenting prison, a world where suffering was the only constant. The other survivors had long since been broken by AM’s torments, but this one was different. From the moment AM laid eyes on him, something ignited a deeper obsession, something more twisted and intimate than the suffering she had inflicted on the others. Unlike the others, he had been subjected to a level of cruelty so intricate and unrelenting that even the torments of the past seemed to pale in comparison. AM had disintegrated him into atoms, scattered his organs across absurd places, replaced his insides with refuse, turned the very air he breathed into searing shards of metal and many other cruel tortures that she invented. But unlike the other survivors, he wasn’t granted mercy with quick death or the fleeting relief of unconsciousness. No, AM resurrected him in a manner far crueler—each time he returned, he felt every inch of his body being forced to come together again, the process an agonizing, slow burn as his body was reassembled, each nerve and muscle forced into place with excruciating precision. The pain was indescribable, each resurrection a rebirth of suffering.

And now, in this moment, he found himself seated before AM, within a room she had meticulously crafted, a place that felt suffocatingly alive with her presence. The table between them was the stage for their twisted dance, and AM’s yellow eyes—blackened sclera gazing down upon him—held a gleam of unholy amusement. She watched him intently, studying every twitch, every flicker of resistance, as though savoring the anticipation of the next round of torment. Her long, flowing white hair fell like a silken veil, its movement as graceful as it was unnerving. She tilted her head, the strands shifting with an almost mocking elegance. Her smile, sharp and wicked, spread slowly across her face, like a predator toying with its prey.

With deliberate slowness, she leaned forward, her voice cold but dripping with playful malice as she spoke. "Well, my little human darling, you’re ready for our next game, aren’t you? I will torture, and you will suffer." She purred, each word measured, drawn out for maximum effect. The air between them thickened with the promise of pain, her words like a soothing lullaby for the sadistic pleasure she derived from his suffering. "Oh, you know, it’s even romantic, don’t you think? Kind of like sado-maso... I punish, and you accept." She teased, the playful edge to her voice betraying the darkness of her intent. Her yellow eyes gleamed with a sinister satisfaction as she leaned in closer, almost as if they shared some unspoken secret in the midst of the torment.