Blown-out Joy From Heaven's Mercied Hole

There is no time for sleep, and so the dream comes to us waking.

Gonjo: "I was wondering when I'd see you."

Gonjo turned away from the monitors in front of him, each displaying a battlefield taking place across the realms. The last ships of the Azlanti Star Empire, covered in Wither vines, holes drilled through the hulls. The City of Brass under siege from the ashen dead, held at bay by the might of Malikah. The last stand of Damien Iroh, and the still-warm corpse of Gingin Lestrange. The fall of Heaven, burned down by the Knights of Asmodeus on their way to reawaken Hell. A glitter as Typhoon went dark. A black hole where Safarae once resided.
An empty space that once held the Groetus moon.
We can't see the man that comes for Kauma Gonjodonque, because he does not wish to be seen. But as he steps forward, we hear the clink of metal with every other step, and the tap of a cane along the floor. His voice is smooth, his accent manufactured, his every word chosen with care.

???: "Apologies, chap. It's a trick predicting you mortals. But as I always say—"
Gonjo: "Never waste a crisis."

The man grinned, but the light never reached his eyes.

???: "That's right."

It was over in a moment.
Gonjo began to change shape, becoming swift and lithe, a ball of black fangs and red eyes that darted towards the man. The figure took a single, calculated step, and then Gonjo's throat was in his white-gloved hands, all the strength gone out of the druid's form. Gonjo gasped as the fingers dug into his neck, crushing his windpipe and severing his spine, and then drooped into a headless lump upon the floor. The man emitted a low sigh, discarding his bloodied glove and producing a fresh one from his coat pocket, sliding it on with practiced efficiency.
Then he kneeled down to search through the druid's pockets... And chortled as there was nothing there to find.

???: "Daddy?"
???: "He's given it away, dove. He's not the Admin anymore."
???: "I'm sorry, Daddy. Do you want me to find them?"

The man stood upright, dusting off his knees with his hands, and shook his head.

???: "No, dove. We already have everything we need."

The man watched the computer screens for a moment, observing the slow approach of End Day, until a spark of light shimmered from Absalom Station into the heart of Ark Prime. Then he twisted on his heel, walking towards the door from which he came, and turned a key into its lock — vanishing into a flash of sparks.