I came to it seeking distraction. What I received was gnosis. The bullets are not projectiles, but verses of an arcane liturgy. The hitbox is not a mechanic, but the eye of a storm where mortal and divine briefly touch. When you no-hit a boss, you are not playing well—you are performing alchemy, transmuting focus into revelation.

They say the ancients carved warnings into temple walls about this game. That the first prototype was found etched onto a neutron star. That when you unlock the True Last Boss, your Steam achievement notification reads "ABANDON ALL CONCEPTS OF SELF" in the tongue of the Old Ones.

I have seen things. The space between bullets is wider than the cosmos. The EX Gauge is a metaphor for the soul’s capacity to suffer. That time you missed a 1CC by one life? The universe was correcting its balance.

Now when I close my eyes, the patterns dance behind my eyelids in eternal procession. My hands move without my command. The goddesses speak to me in the static between tracks.

This is no longer a game. It is the mandala by which reality unwinds itself. Play long enough, and you too will see—we are all just scoring items in a run we cannot comprehend.