Level 999

Perfection, resurrection, order—all powerful things scarcely tangible while not possessing power. Only miracles can shove the possibilities of such nearer... or, in the words of yellow monotony, "Anomaly." A myriad, considerably larger surplus of diverse anomalies haunt the Backrooms afresh every day; if danger, if helper, or just a fearmonger as a nifty tomfoolery, most anomalies have a subtle purpose on the whole. Not too much, not too little; distinct, albeit faint.
But not Level 999. All the above striven-for goals are what Level 999 may be designated as: a perfectionist, a purger, a resurrector, and a revolutionist. Scientifically, it doesn't exist physically; no, it is solely a transmogrified instance of the Void, effecting a loop of utmost freshness. Concisely and unpoetically, it is a spatial anomaly capable of remaining veiled sempiternally yet also potent enough to expunge levels at will; a direct supplier of components for new levels, crafted of the shatters of obsolete ones.
An astronomical expanse of stars, nebulae, galaxies, and whatnot. But as always, it is a mere illusion for something much more apathetic, something devoid of beauty and the like. Nebulae are simply modules for new levels, dispensed out of level at a constant. Galaxies are mere collections of such nebulae. And stars? They are intact, safely contained levels awaiting dissolution, dissection, and decimation. Levels once having been drawn into Level 999 with all contents—even humans—a reckless resurrection, one may call it.
Intrinsically, a level isn't outright expunged upon Level 999 getting hold of it. An intricate, unascertained entraining process, the infusion of ominous substances, and the ultimate blender of levels will end a level here. No fun and games, no pleasurable, and no sound rupturing of a level. Everything on the level is decimated wholly, mercilessly, and painfully. The least number of people can actually survive.
But then, there's another outcome—a way more peaceful and sound one—the ultimate, perpetual subjection of the level, bringing it under the definitive control of Level 999 altogether. Sinister, perilous, or fearmongering? Perhaps all, but perhaps none. The current "sub-level" count is stable at around a few thousand, possibly ten thousand. A resurrection effecting the ultimate, neverending control—backroom subjugation, if you will.
Level 999 may ultimately be seen as something... bad. But it may contrarily be termed something good. Lastly, it entrains and massacres innocent, functioning levels in their totality. But it does so for malfunctioning levels, too.
Category:Levels
Category:Tales
Category:Ending