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The year is 1928. You are Wilhelm Karlovich von Reuter—a man of science, a ghost of the old world, and one of the last great minds willing to touch the sun.

The world is standing on the edge of a new age, but no one has the courage to light the fuse. They call it madness. We call it progress. While other scientists cower behind equations on paper, we have agreed to stare directly into the abyss. For a fortune in dollars—and for the sake of history—we will pull the lever.

Our sanctuary is not buried in the cold, damp earth. It rises with the mountain itself—a steel-and-concrete eye socket forged into the rock. Through the tempered, lead-lined glass of the observation bay, we command a front-row seat to the end of the world. The bunker is a fortress; the radiation will claw at its walls, but it will not enter. We are safe. We are spectators.

Outside, the test field stretches into a silent, desolate plain. Soon, a man-made star will bloom there—a blinding flash, a roar that will shatter the silence, and a pillar of smoke that will rise like a new deity.

We are Wilhelm Karlovich von Reuter. We are the ones who said "yes." And we are about to see if God blinks first.