《Peek a boo!》 Chapter 1: Every inconsistency a bar, every revision another lock. Chapter 1: Every inconsistency a bar, every revision another lock. Worlds died differently than people, Estelle discovered, as she contemplated destroying her own. Twelve years of worldbuilding stared back at her from the screen¡ªcontinents sketched in digital ink, histories written and rewritten, civilizations risen and abandoned mid-thought. She used to believe every revision would make the World of Astris more coherent, more real, but now it felt like a house where all the rooms had been built by different architects, none speaking the same language. The dark interface of her worldbuilding software filled her ultrawide monitor, its familiar layout of tools and panels glowing in muted cyan against the black background. The main viewport dominated the center, while creation tools lined the left side and property panels nested themselves on the right. Her hand trembled as she moved the cursor, an accidental click sending half of the continent drifting across the screen. The mountain range she had spent three months perfecting split apart like a broken promise. Muscle memory reached for the familiar comfort of CTRL+Z, and the world snapped back into place¡ªjust as it had countless times before. But this time, the action felt hollow, a band-aid on a wound that had festered too long. ¡®How many times?¡¯ Estelle wondered, drawing her knees to her chest. Reset, redo, rewrite, rebuild. The same cycle she had been trapped in since she was thirteen, when creating a world had seemed like the perfect escape from her own. Her fingers ghosted across the mechanical keyboard, its ragged clicks mixing with the low hum of her distant electric fan and the rumbling groan of her computer¡ªthe usual ambience to another restless night. With practiced ease, she adjusted her fingers and pressed down on the keys, triggering a small notification that faded into the corner of the screen: [Tool switched: move]. The cursor transformed into a familiar hand icon, confirming to Estelle that she could navigate the vast digital canvas before her. Hugging her legs closer, she hunched forward and panned the map leftward until something caught her eye. There in the northwest, far from any massive islands, lay the Soliel Archipelago¡ªa frozen realm where winter ruled eternal. This was the domain of many ancient kinds: the Soliel kin, the litra-masters wielding their runic arts, and more crucially, the prison that held the Foreign Gods beneath true ice. A weary sigh escaped her as she positioned her mouse and spun the wheel, drawing closer to this corner of her world. The screen transitioned through animated clouds and azure skies, pixelated images blurring past before gradually slowing to a halt. As Estelle''s finger hovered over the mouse wheel, the pixelated graphics suddenly crystallized into sharp focus. A pod of Waillights materialized, their gigantic kite-shaped fins catching invisible currents as they soared overhead. Below them, a fleet of airships hung in perfect formation, their massive white envelopes framed in steel, wooden decks swaying beneath. Though the scene was frozen in time, everything moved in perpetual animation¡ªWaillight¡¯s fins undulating like birds in flight, airship propellers spinning in an endless loop. Estelle''s weak smile barely touched her eyes as she hugged her legs tighter, her chin sinking between her knees. Even here, in this perfectly crafted moment, something felt incomplete. Waillights had been her first animated creation. She remembered those months spent learning animation, determined to make them fit seamlessly into the worldmap. That moment when they finally moved smoothly, meeting her exacting standards¡ªthe joy had felt infinite. She had crafted a mountainous region in the Soliel Archipelago just for them, a racing track where they could soar and dive between peaks. Those had been happier times, when each new addition felt like a pure discovery. Estelle dragged the map again, taking in the transformed skyscape. What had once been empty space now teemed with floating debris, each rocky isle crowned with verdant life. Tree roots wove through stone like hungry fingers, while waterfalls cascaded from cracked cliffsides into the endless void below. These details were new¡ªadded just this month¡ªbreathing life into what had been barren expanses. Her gaze caught on a blue crystal protruding from beneath one of the isles, one of countless formations that kept millions of islands suspended in the void. Its glow seemed... different. ¡®Had it always dimmed this bright?¡¯ She frowned, second-guessing herself. Perhaps she had just messed up the brightness settings... perhaps. "Fuck... I''ll think about it... later..." Estelle sighed, dragging the map once more before flicking her mouse wheel, trying to scroll away her doubts. The map zoomed further, passing clusters of pixelated debris until the clouds gradually thinned and disappeared. The distant blue faded to misty gray as the screen settled on the mainland of Soliel, Errt Vollago Isle¡ªits name materializing in bold letters above the landscape. At first, the island emerged in chunks of blocky pixels: swathes of green dotted with dark brown and gray in the top-down view. The northwestern regions rendered painfully slow, as they always did¡ªslower than any other land Estelle had crafted. Her attention drifted to the white mug beside her keyboard, untouched for too long now. She reached for it anyway, seeking comfort in its fading warmth. The familiar scent of her favorite blend wafted up, but even that felt muted somehow, failing to provide the comfort she was itching for. Estelle bumped her knees against the desk as she leaned back in her chair. The island remained stubbornly pixelated on screen, drawing another soft sigh from her lips. She took small, continuous sips of her lukewarm coffee, trying to distract herself from the growing hollow in her chest. This region''s glacial loading times were no surprise¡ªthousands, perhaps even tens of thousands of item files packed into every corner of the island''s details. ¡°Home of eternal winter¡ªwhat a fitting name,¡± Estelle muttered, a dry smile twisting her lips. The name "eternal winter" wasn''t Estelle''s only designation for this region. Behind the scenes, she had labeled it "the archive of item files"¡ªa massive repository of culture, linguistics, history, and concept art, all detailed down to the last bit. True to her hyperfixated nature, she had even created a function for tracking timelines and specific dates, allowing her to separate and chronicle eras from the distant past to the far future. Each date served as a snapshot where she could isolate, create, and progress the virtual worldmap. With one hand, Estelle tapped a familiar shortcut on her keyboard. The top panel appeared, resizing her view of the worldmap. Her eyes scanned until she found the timestamp display: "Current timeline-universal time year 854-9th month-winter-noon." As if on cue, a muffled orchestra filled her earphones, accompanied by playful, fluttering tribal whistles. The pixelated island finally rendered into clear view, and the music shifted¡ªstrings and whispered voices weaving into the track, their low-quality audio somehow perfect for capturing the dreading despair of Soliel''s eternal winter. The soundtrack pulled at her attention, as it always did, matching the frozen landscape with haunting perfection. This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. ''I''ll keep all the assets, at least,'' Estelle thought, scrolling to zoom closer to the island. ''They''re too valuable to delete. Besides, they''re stored separately¡ªsafe in their own internal folder.'' Thick, black tree trunks stood barely visible among the dark green canopies, the ground beneath almost entirely hidden from view. Where the leaves parted, small brooks and larger rivers flowed in animated streams, their dim blue waters outlining the flow and standing out against the muted landscape. The scene pleased the creator''s eye¡ªatmospheric, fitting, lovely in its style and nature. Following one of the rivers, she discovered two boats drifting in line. Each carried two seated figures, while one stood at the wooden prow, gripping it firmly. From each bow hung chains suspending iron pans that cradled flames, flickering like ancient braziers to light their path through the gloom. The region''s core identity had shifted many times under Estelle''s hand. At first, she envisioned it as a desolate winterland where gods reigned and rested. Then it became a pirate''s haven, later transforming into a sanctuary cove for assassins. Yet none of these ideas truly resonated with her, and even shifting timelines couldn''t fill the gaps that remained. After months of frustrating creative drought, she finally found her answer: a tribal homeland, the most ancient region in her world, where magic, runes, and otherworldly vestiges of power first took root. Estelle moved her cursor, dragging the map downward along the stream until new details emerged through the gray mist: wooden roofs peeking between the canopies, barely visible through the perpetual fog. Through the rare gaps in the canopy, Estelle watched the daily life of Ertt Valago unfold. People traversed wooden hanging bridges or walked the ground below, while others gathered at tables and chairs woven from living tree roots, sharing their noon meal. Though it was winter, the white wisps weren''t clouds but condensed breath¡ªthreading between trees, obscuring both view and light. The wintery snow partially covered the ground and blanketed the treetops, which retained their unusual vibrant green hue, mixed with patches of gray and other muted colors. The natives had adapted, activating runic words to conjure fire for torches, while bioluminescent crystals wrapped in hemp rope hung as auxiliary lighting across the lands. It seemed a normal day for the community, yet beneath this peaceful fa?ade lay deeper complications that plagued the entire region. The most pressing issue, invisible to the current view, was the tangle of their histories. Estelle had never settled on a single, definitive version of events. Instead, revisions and variants existed side by side, particularly regarding the pivotal interactions between gods and the world. The narratives refused to align, creating a web of contradictions that grew more complex with each attempt to reconcile them. A dry frown crossed Estelle''s face as she considered their historical progression. Futuristic devices¡ªartifacts left by their first foreigners¡ªstill lay inlaid in ice, waiting to be discovered and used as tools of progress. Their writing system, as old as the first floating islands themselves, possessed impossible capabilities. These weren''t simple letters but crystallized messages that could communicate across time itself, offering glimpses of both past and future, sharing magic between timelines, granting power across eras for all Soliel¡¯s survival. The roots of the problem only grew. The anachronisms had spiraled beyond her control, with every addition making the timeline more convoluted. The Soliel were capable¡ªyet their creator had never granted them true agency, never given their digital forms the freedom to evolve naturally. Estelle knew an eight-hundred-year-old civilization couldn''t remain frozen in time¡ªand in truth, they hadn''t. The many snippets of official history spoke of tribal conflicts and wars, but she had never provided them with a driving force for progression. The reason eluded her, perhaps buried beneath mountains of worldbuilding files, or perhaps reflecting her own creative paralysis. Foreign invasions or diplomacy were options she had tried, but nothing clicked¡ªsomething vital remained missing. Perhaps it was the way the Soliel would interact, or how future wars would unfold. The image remained blurry, lost in the fog of abandoned ideas. The Soliel people remained bound by ancient ways, their necks wrapped in cultural doctrine, their minds shaped by elders who preached eternal connection to the living forest and their old gods. Faithful to their old blood, they waited, forever frozen in eternal winter for their Creator to weave their fate¡ªa fate that would never come. How fitting. The irony of that eternal stasis wasn''t lost on her; it felt like a reflection of her own creative drought. A dry scoff escaped her lips as she considered erasing this region from the world entirely. Estelle shook her head. The thought vanished as quickly as it came¡ªdeletion would bring no clarity. If anything, it would shatter the entire world''s foundation. The Soliel archipelago was threaded through everything: hundreds of characters, countless storylines, all tangled in this narrative web. Their influence touched every pivotal moment in the world''s history, whether through individual characters, the movement of winds, the flow of magic, or their ancient artifacts. Removing them would unravel everything. The inconsistencies ran deeper, infecting every layer of her world¡ªfrom surface-level details to backend systems, from core principles to fundamental laws. The Soliel were meant to be both the world''s beginning and its end, should the foreign gods trapped in ice ever awaken. Yet they weren''t unique in their problems; other regions, lands, timelines, and power systems were equally flawed. The problems were everywhere, too numerous to count, too entangled to untangle. Estelle inhaled deeply, the cold night air filling her lungs. It calmed her nerves, but her mind remained fixated on deleting the World of Astris. For a month, this thought had paralyzed her progress¡ªso much so that it bled into her real life, a relentless storm raging in her consciousness. ''Delete the world, and be free. Wipe the world, and be free. Erase the world, so I can start anew,'' she chanted mentally, exhaling sharply through her nose. Summoning her strength, Estelle guided the mouse cursor to the top panel of the software, hovering over the cog-shaped wheel icon. She paused, her heart pounding like distant thunder. Her mind urged her forward, yet her fingers rebelled, trembling slightly. Still, she persisted. With a long, deliberate click, she opened the settings menu, her finger frozen on the left mouse button. Another deep breath did little to calm her frayed nerves as unending waves of shivers prickled her skin. Finally, she lifted her finger, aware of the sweat beading on her forehead and fingers, and her increasingly labored breathing. A new window materialized beneath the cursor, a panel of core settings stretching to the bottom of the screen. Estelle moved the mouse with agonizing slowness, her heart and mind locked in violent conflict. The once-comforting rhythm of music from her earphones was now drowned out by the deafening beat of her pulse. Despite her inner turmoil, she pressed on until the cursor hovered over the red lettering, its selection highlighted: "Delete ''World of Astris''?" The words on screen made Estelle''s mind go blank. She gritted her teeth as waves of numbness washed over her skin, something swelling inside that she struggled to contain. Swallowing hard, she chanted, "Delete the world, and be free. Erase the world, and be free. So that I can start anew." With trembling fingers, Estelle weakly tapped the left mouse button. Without warning, the muffled, irritating music in her earphones abruptly cut off. The screen dimmed, overlaid by a gray film that froze the world beneath as if stuck in time. Estelle''s eyes widened as a new window appeared in the center, its red text stark against the backdrop: "Are you certain you want to delete ''The World of Astris''? (Containing 67,934 item files. 144GB)¡± Chapter 2: Are you certain you want to delete the World? Chapter 2: Are you certain you want to delete the World? With trembling fingers, Estelle weakly tapped the left mouse button. Without warning, the muffled, irritating music in her earphones abruptly cut off. The screen dimmed, overlaid by a gray film that froze the world beneath as if stuck in time. Estelle''s eyes widened as a new window appeared in the center, its red text stark against the backdrop: "Are you certain you want to delete ''The World of Astris''? (Containing 67,934 item files. 144GB)¡± The number staggered her. 67,934 item files was enormous, yet Estelle knew many were placeholders¡ªideas yet to be fully realized, variant versions of original concepts, or items meant for deletion but archived "just in case." Even if she took the time to sort through the pages, cleaning and revising the entire world again, it would take too long. So long that she might forget why she started this purge in the first place. Estelle knew she needed to delete the World of Astris, to escape its gravitational pull. If she merely stored it away, there would always be a calling¡ªa siren song luring her back to this world, back to continue, and ultimately, to suffer more. The thought of that endless cycle made her stomach churn. Her hand felt heavy, but it moved almost of its own accord, sliding smoothly across the mousepad. Before she knew it, the cursor hovered over the ''Confirm'' button, its red text a stark warning beneath the question. She muttered, "Delete and be free. And then, we start a new world. Be free, so I can create something better with what we''ve learned, what we carry. I can do better¡ªmuch better now. So delete it, Estelle." Her words trailed off as her breathing became rapid and shallow. Tears welled behind her eyes, but she held them back, blinking hard. Her gaze caught on the digital forest behind the window prompt, memories flashing before her eyes, only adding weight to the resistance in her fingers. She only needed one click, just a simple tap, and everything would be over. These actions were all too familiar. She couldn''t help but recall the times she had cleansed worlds before¡ªtoo many times, too many painful memories. Creating anew in the verse was never the issue; fitting pieces together cohesively like a puzzle was where the challenge lay. But nothing could compare to the emotions surging through her now. Creating, editing, deleting¡ªthe cyclical plague that haunted worldbuilders like her. It was part of the process, Estelle knew that all too well. ¡°Delete the world, and be free. Free from all of this. So that I can start anew,¡± Estelle repeated, her words now solemn, almost futile chant. ¡°Start anew¡ª¡± However, as those words left her lips, something stirred within Estelle''s mind. A familiar sensation¡ªan idea, a bright thought, a hope for this predicament. Yet, she couldn''t grasp it clearly. She hastily removed her hand from the mouse, hugging her knees tightly as she tried to calm her numb senses. She wasn''t certain what this thought was; perhaps another impulsive action, or maybe a futile resistance against the inevitable. She sighed heavily, her chest expanding as her nerves began to relax. ¡°Start anew¡­¡± she repeated, the words hanging in the air. Something about this phrase budded a seed of another thought. Estelle''s mind couldn''t quite grasp it, but it felt too important to ignore. She sensed she could deeply regret continuing without exploring this further. Shifting her gaze back to the map¡ªits brightness dimmed by the ever-present ''delete confirmation'' window¡ªEstelle clicked away from the prompt. The world regained its colors, and the ambient sounds of the Soliel archipelago filled her ears once more. She murmured, "Start anew¡ª" "¡ªA campaign?" The words flowed from her lips unbidden. Her eyes widened in surprise as the idea crystallized in her mind. Without warning, before she could fully process it, the burden that had constricted her chest, along with the weight pressuring her shoulders, abruptly lifted. It felt as if an extensive project had suddenly reached its conclusion, leaving her in a state of unexpected calm with newfound clarity. "Right... Right... Right... Indeed," Estelle whispered, her hands hurriedly guided the cursor back to the cog wheel icon. She clicked on the cog icon once more. A list of options appeared beneath, with ''Start Campaign'' prominently displayed at the top. She hesitated, realizing she had never clicked this option before¡ªnot even by mistake. The software updates had always touted it as a cool, fantastic feature, but Estelle had dismissed it many times. After all, the World of Astris was never meant to be played by others or used for a tabletop roleplaying game. Yet now, the idea of starting a campaign suddenly seemed compelling. Estelle sighed, gripping the mouse tightly. "I guess..." she began, her words trailing into thought. ''Perhaps... a campaign or two won''t hurt. After all, I want to see the World of Astris through a character''s eyes¡ªto be restricted by the rules and laws I have created. For one last time... Yes.'' With a nod to herself, Estelle clicked the ''Start Campaign'' option. A new window popped up, nearly filling the screen. It displayed the default initial documentation for the campaign: player avatar and participation, their backstories, abilities, and more. Estelle dove straight into scanning the form as her thoughts began to wander, her lips moving in a stream of half-formed ideas: ¡°First run... I think I want to start with a powerful character¡ªeasy mode. Or maybe not. No deaths¡ªyes, no deaths. Not like Immortals or Tihels, but maybe... dragons? No, no. I just don''t want the campaign to end so quickly. Time regression? No, that''s a stupid ability that requires too many things, and breaks World Runes. No deaths, so maybe a race that can resurrect? This... or maybe that, phoenix, but then again... so no." As Estelle reached the bottom of the form, she pondered which avatar to use for her first campaign. Suddenly, she lifted her head from her knees, a detail finally registering. ''Huh? The theme¡ªit''s still default.'' The stark blacks and whites of the system interface stood out like an intrusion in her carefully crafted environment. ¡®How come I didn''t notice it immediately?¡¯ she wondered, her eyes twitching. The familiar cyan glow was missing, replaced by harsh lines and standard system fonts that felt alien after years of working with her custom design. If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. Glancing at the top panel behind the campaign interface, Estelle noticed sections bordered with cyan light blue. Each icon on the panel had changed to assets she had created, and even the language partly resembled that of her world. Intrigued, she pressed F5 to refresh the window. The campaign interface transformed, its elements reorganizing themselves to match her usual theme. The clinical system interface faded away as her customized design took hold¡ªfamiliar typography replacing standard fonts, harsh edges softening beneath cyan borders, default icons morphing into the Architect''s symbols. Like her world asserting its presence, piece by digital piece. The Architect''s theme was something she had grown accustomed to, though she couldn''t recall when she had started using it or when she had revamped the original design to fit her needs. It was a simple, dark matte design with glowing cyan borders. While most text used English alphabets, specific areas were replaced with the Architect''s language for aesthetic and immersion. Estelle''s eyes fell on the start button, confirming the theme was working completely. She felt a wave of relief seeing ''enter world'' written in the Architect''s language, replacing the previous ''start campaign'' option. Abruptly, a memory sparked in her mind. ''Wait¡ªdidn''t I make an avatar for myself before? Yes, I think I created... the Architect avatar when I was designing icon concepts for the theme.'' At those thoughts, Estelle clicked on ''attach/upload external file'', prompting a new window to appear. She tapped the ''insert file name'' field, straining to remember the exact name. "I think it was... Architect_Ava..." she muttered, slowly typing. As if reading her mind, the system shadowed letters beneath hers, autocompleting to ''Architect_avatar_creator_project.cht''. Estelle hit enter, and the window twitched as it began to navigate to the original file. Her eyes widened as she checked the date: ''Last modified 5 years ago''. ''It''s been that long?'' she thought, a wave of nostalgia washing over her. She continued. A second press of the enter key confirmed the selection and closed the default window, returning her to the software''s campaign UI. The interface transformed, now displaying a list of character files. To her relief, her old creation was there, accepted, fully compatible despite its age. Estelle double-clicked on the file name, opening a new window beside the list. It displayed her character information and concept art in vivid detail. She leaned in, absorbing the details: All the basic information was visible at a glance. Scrolling down, Estelle found sections detailing her abilities, racial affiliations, and other attributes. Though much of it seemed unimportant now, she skimmed through it all, double-checking the details she had crafted so long ago. As she read, a mixture of nostalgia and excitement welled up inside her. A smile crept onto her face¡ªthis wasn''t just any character. She remembered that this was supposed to be an extension of herself, a mark of her existence as the creator of the world, to be present and recorded in its history. Though this version of her character''s Architect race was now outdated, perhaps even weaker compared to the Architect''s abilities in the present day, the original variant that her character possessed was still powerful in its specialty¡ªespecially when it came to crafting and recreating. Not only that, but she considered herself omniscient¡ªmore knowledgeable about her own world than any other being within it. There was no issue if her avatar''s abilities were weak compared to newer creations. She¡ªthe creator¡ªalready had an inherent advantage. Estelle nodded to herself, smiling as her body swayed through the ambience of the music. After several minutes of checking, the file appeared intact and complete, free from corruption. As Estelle reviewed it, memories of the Architects surfaced¡ªthey were the first foreigners to visit the World of Astris in ancient times, establishing a respectful relationship with both natives and the world''s Gods. Their presence was brief, though. While the exact details eluded her now, she remembered writing about a conflict that forced the Architects to retreat to their own home world. Before departing, they had constructed a gateway atop one of the world''s highest peaks¡ªa portal that later became a source of tragedy when foreign Gods, far more violent than the Architects, used it to invade Astris. Estelle felt the urge to verify these historical details but held back, knowing how easily she could get distracted and fall into another spiral of impulsive editing and self-hatred. She closed the character form, returning to the campaign interface. Three options lined the bottom of the screen, their text rendered in the world''s runic script according to her custom theme: she could either select an existing storyline, create a new storyline, or start the campaign. Growing impatient with the endless choices, Estelle clicked ''create a new storyline.'' Another window appeared, presenting yet another form similar to the previous character interface. Without much thought, she selected ''generate random storyline'' and the interface flickered¡ªrefreshing as the blank forms filled with text. Estelle skimmed through the randomly generated story. She understood the plot and its direction, but it felt too grounded, too mundane for the Architect character she would control. Still, she reasoned, the story needed to start somewhere, even if simple and generic. She could always alter the narrative later when inspiration struck. Her eyes caught on the timeline year: 955. It was well into the 900s¡ªan era full of unresolved violence and problems she had yet to address in her worldbuilding. With a quick click, she edited the year to 854, matching it to the current World Map timeline. She continued scrolling, scanning through the details and connections of the generated narrative. To her relief, nothing seemed to break the world''s core concepts, and the story''s starting location provided an ideal entry point for her character. After a few more minutes of review, she finally reached the bottom of the form and nodded with satisfaction. As she moved the cursor to the option where she could start the campaign, something caught her eye. The text appeared different now¡ªbolder, written in a script reminiscent of the ancient gods'' language she had designed for Astris. Her eyes narrowed as she studied the familiar yet altered text. Though still legible, it seemed to be a variant of what she had seen moments before, now reading: "Enter the World of Astris." ''Huh? Did I create this before?'' Estelle tilted her head, studying the text¡¯s option. ''This seems like a hybrid between the Native Gods'' Runic writing system and the Architects'' language. But that can''t be right¡ªI never designed a fusion of the two. The Architects despised the old Gods, especially after almost losing control of their "Gates to Another World" project. That conflict was meant to drive the world forward. Have I changed something without remembering? Created an alternate timeline? Or is this just another piece I forgot to update?'' Her face scrunched up as she released a soft sigh. ''I should edit this icon later. I remember making concept art for something similar... somewhere. Great, another file to track down.'' Mindlessly, Estelle clicked the left mouse button, her head already settling back to rest against her fist. Without warning, the screen erupted in white light¡ªimpossibly bright, as if her monitor''s brightness had been cranked beyond its limits. Her chair, desk, room¡ªeverything dissolved into that blinding radiance. Then came the falling, a sickening lurch as reality seemed to turn inside out. Before she knew it, her vision plunged into darkness, endless and absolute, until¡ª Chapter 3: Is this a dream? Chapter 3: Is this a dream? Estelle''s lungs burned as she jerked awake, as if she had been holding her breath for hours. Her vision swam, images appearing in blurry slideshows¡ªslowly awakening¡ªuntil they sharpened on a scene that didn''t make any sense: Massive chunks of black rocks drifted through empty space, moving with glacial slowness. Between them, clouds of gray and golden dust sparkled in phantom light that seemed to emanate from nowhere and everywhere at once. "Where...?" She turned in a slow circle, searching. For what, she wasn''t certain, but her eyes strained against the endless darkness beyond the debris field. Nothing but more rocks, more crystalline dust, more emptiness. A nagging familiarity tugged at her like she was peering into a half-remembered dream¡ªshe had seen this before, she was certain of it. But when she tried to remember, pain pulsed at her temples, forcing her to squint as she whipped her head around, hunting for any clue to ground her. Between the searching and understanding the surroundings, she noticed something felt fundamentally wrong. Her body felt impossibly light, as if gravity had released its hold on her. Her thoughts drifted increasingly unmoored¡ªeverything felt clear but nothing felt understandable¡ªand yet her feet remained planted on... she looked down. What she stood upon wasn''t ground at all, but a series of shattered stone platforms forming a crude staircase. It led forward into nothingness, ending abruptly where new steps had yet to materialize¡ªthough similar rocks in fragmented forms hovered nearby, as if waiting to solidify beneath her feet should she dare to advance. ¡°Where¡­ am I?¡± the words felt thick in her mouth. Her last clear memory was sitting at her desk, starting a new campaign within the World she had made. She remembered clicking "Enter Campaign" and then¡ªthis. This void. This cold space where nothing felt real. A thunderous boom interrupted her thoughts, her heart hammering against her ribs as she jolted. She whipped around to see two massive rocks colliding nearby, grinding together without any sign of rebounding or stopping. They splintered into fragments¡ªsome spinning off into the darkness to soar among the other rocks¡ªwhile others hurtled toward her with alarming speed, only to be caught and deflected by swirling clouds of animated golden dust. "Am I dreaming?" she wondered aloud. The void offered no answer. Had she fallen asleep at her desk? She looked back over her shoulder, trying to trace her steps, but found nothing¡ªno path, no trail between clicking that button and waking here. No memory of drifting off, no explanation for how she had arrived in this familiar place. "I must be... I must be dreaming," she muttered. Her attention was drawn to the increasing sparkle of golden dust around her. Something felt odd about its movement. As she tracked the particles¡¯ flow, she realized they were gathering under the broken stairs. The golden dust bathed in unknown light, forming dune-like terrain. It shimmered in waves, beckoning her forward. Something about this sight sparked a blurry memory. She was certain this place was one of her creations¡ªone of the thousands of maps she had built over the years¡ªyet she couldn''t pin down exactly what or where it was. It felt like one of her abandoned projects, relegated to some dusty archive. A dry smile crept across her face. "So now the dead ones come to give me nightmares too? Maybe I should have deleted that world instead of clinging to some... impulsive thoughts." Estelle briefly entertained the thought of jumping into the abyss rather than ascending the broken stairs. She hadn''t designed anything for such acts, but she was curious what her mind might conjure in that final moment. She shook her head, dismissing the idea. Beyond her fear of what lurked in that darkness, she wanted¡ªneeded¡ªto remember this place. What was this? Where was this? Why had she created this? Or perhaps she was being presumptuous, and this wasn''t her creation at all.This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it. Forward she went, carefully planting her feet on each uneven platform despite her earlier misgivings. As she looked down, something caught her eye¡ªa flutter of movement. Her cold, numbed skin was pulled by a heavy white coat that covered a black mockneck garment, her hands encased in skin-tight black gloves. "Oh," she muttered abruptly. "This is..." A flash of memory struck her. This clothing¡ªit was similar to the old designs the Architects used to wear. Estelle whipped her head around immediately, taking in her surroundings with new understanding. ¡°Oh... I see¡ªthis place... This is that place¡ª" her words trailed off into thoughts. ''Yes, that place... where the Architects came from¡ªtheir origin point, supposedly. I think? I believe so? But I deleted it... or maybe archived it. Then how does this place still exist? Oh... right. A dream. But why am I dreaming of this place? Is it because I chose the Architect race for my campaign?'' Her thoughts were clear yet scattered, racing between remembering and creating reasons, until another distant collision of rocks caught her attention¡ªanother piece of lively animation populating this environment. ''What a generic environment¡ªI could have done better,'' she thought, pursing her lips. ''What was this place''s purpose again? Beyond being the origin point... It feels like I''m missing something crucial.'' Lost in thought, Estelle placed one foot forward. The movement disturbed the golden dunes beneath the broken platform, sending particles spiraling upward in delicate eddies. She watched them dance, momentarily dazzled¡ªuntil they froze. Every mote hung suspended, perfectly still, as if time itself had stopped. She unconsciously tilted her head. That''s when she felt it: her skin shivered, hairs standing on end. A vibration, so deep it seemed to resonate in her bones, rippled through the void. The floating rocks trembled¡ªdust rippled back into motion, and waves of tension passed through the distant clouds, shattering their glimmer into unified waves across their surface like ripples from an explosion. The fabric of this space held its breath, waiting. ¡°Where are you going?¡± The voice rolled through the void like thunder, carrying an unsettling familiarity that made her skin crawl. It was androgynous and resonant, carefully measured¡ªand horrifyingly similar to her own, though processed and altered as if run through countless filters. A memory flashed, and her eyes widened with recognition. This was her voice, the same type across countless records for her world''s narratives, but she had never heard it like this: alive, autonomous, questioning. She turned slowly, searching the void for its source, but found only the endless field of rocks, the swirling golden dust now moving placidly, and the broken path that seemed to mock her with its purposeful design. ''Huh? Narration? Was that me? Did I really make a narrative about the origin of the Architect race?'' Estelle wondered, taking another step forward. "I tread these broken paths¡ª" the voice came again, in that same processed tone, as music abruptly faded in from the distance, echoing throughout the void. ¡°Oh¡ª" She halted immediately, recognition dawning in her widened eyes. The orchestral sounds flowing to her ears were unmistakable¡ªa piece she had listened to countless times over the years after commissioning it. A soft electric synth echoed like waves, accompanied by a slow, delicate piano melody that carried a futuristic ambience, while violin strings stretched in quick rhythm beneath. A smile spread across her face, reaching her eyes. ''I remember now. This is one of the racial introductions I created for the world. I voiced the Architect''s sequence myself and commissioned a group of composers for the music.'' Her smile widened. ''To think I''m experiencing it firsthand in a dream. How fascinating.'' Although this place would eventually be erased in the far future by her own hands¡ªsave for the individual assets that made up the entire set¡ªshe couldn''t help but feel her mind was rewinding memories, perhaps rebelling against her will. ''No, that can''t happen,'' Estelle immediately declared. ''No matter what¡ªI have to delete it.'' Chapter 4: Where are you going â—‡ Chapter 4: Where are you going ¡ó Despite the negative thoughts taking root in her mind, she urged her feet forward¡ªcontinuing onward with the opening sequence she had created and long forgotten. As far as she could remember, there wasn''t any path she could take aside from the broken bridge before her¡ªjust like the many opening introductions of major races, though this place was certainly a dream. Her footsteps echoed loudly, unnaturally piercing through the low, rumbling strings. ¡°Each step echoing through endless space.¡± She took three steps forward, and a single, loud thump like a heartbeat echoed, vibrating throughout the environment as assets¡ªblack rocks and various cosmic dust¡ªbegan to move. Prominent wailing strums reverberated, filling the space with an elegant, mystic quality as more background instruments completed the symphonic atmosphere. As she carefully listened to her mixed-composed voice, she noticed the broken path began materializing¡ªstrings or perhaps black beams forming underneath the previous plate, tying the broken segments into stairs. They possessed an odd phenomenon¡ªsome strange gravitational pull¡ªdrawing tiny fragments of black rocks toward them. The rocks compressed against these strings, becoming intertwined, forming new broken plates of platform. ¡°Before us, there was only void¡ªA canvas of scattered stars and cosmic dust.¡± Something in the air compelled her to continue forward without stopping, maintaining her steady pace. Was it the ever-increasing rhythm of the violin, repeating like a heartbeat building to a climax? The narration? Or perhaps the startlingly realistic atmosphere of the dream? Whatever the reason, she didn''t mind, and pressed onward. The words were familiar to her¡ªshe had memorized them before¡ªyet she couldn''t grasp the next phrases. She tried to remember as she continued three steps forward, hearing the next verse almost immediately. "We emerged from this emptiness, Children of the space between spaces, Born to witness, born to remember." The heartbeat booming continued, her own heart falling into sync with its rhythm. The space around her brightened¡ªilluminated by the golden dust that sprawled underneath the platform and moved through the void¡ªgathering in clusters before dispersing into the distance. As her gaze followed their movement, she witnessed the black rocks transforming. Many deformed and broke apart, their fragments drifting and swarming into a storm¡ªoddly muted as they rushed, crushed, and broke the massive rocks, turning into masses just as quickly. They moved like schools of fish, Estelle thought¡ªa deceptively peaceful comparison. The scene before her could seemingly shred a human body before the mind could process what it witnessed. "Watching. Expanding. Ascending." Then, masses of black fragments began to shape themselves into circular forms¡ªlike planets with rings of debris circling them. More appeared in the near and far distance. Familiar statues of humanoids, and creatures were unknowingly built before she knew it, floating serenely in the space, though their official names eluded her. Estelle moved forward, approaching the end of the stairs that had been continuously forming ahead. "Each platform, a fragment of lost history., Each golden mote, a memory preserved." At those narrated words, Estelle looked over her shoulder. The platforms mentioned in the narration clearly referred to the stairs she was climbing. Behind her, the steps she had traversed had dispersed into fragments, just like the black rocks¡ªthe most recent one bursting into tiny pieces. She watched as they disappeared among the other black rocks that were continually forming into masses of various objects. Estelle had forgotten the exact phrases of the narration¡ªuncertain whether those words held metaphorical meaning. She had long forgotten when she created this place¡ªcouldn''t even recall the specific year and month. Perhaps she had created this during her fascination with the precursor race. Her mind remained stubbornly blank, despite her best efforts to recollect. When she turned back to face forward, she was greeted by a newly formed massive black rock¡ªshaped like diamonds, or a rhombus¡ªframing the broken stairs ahead. Estelle couldn''t help but blow a sharp exhale. "That''s cool¡ª" her remarks trailed into internal wonder. ''I want to check if I made this map when I wake up, but I''m afraid of what I might find¡ªif there''s unfinished work waiting, it would only add to my stress. Still... this scene looks so amazing and surreal. Am I even dreaming? This doesn''t feel like a lucid dream.''You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story. She pinched her cheeks¡ªher fingers and skin felt cold, with a numbing sensation. It felt surreal¡ªyet numbingly dream-like. Estelle continued onward, curious about the next phrases in the narration. "Time flows differently here, Where black stone meets eternal night, Where ancient debris traces patterns In clouds of gray and golden light." Her breath caught in her throat as the words stirred something deep within her¡ªcreator''s pride mixed with primal awe. After ascending 10 to 15 broken platforms at a measured pace, Estelle found herself listening intently to the narration. The words, the music, the scene unfolding before her¡ªshe struggled to find adequate words to describe it all. The opening sequence was perfect in its execution: the depiction of the Architects, their introductions, everything. She wanted to retrieve her words about the generic environment¡ªas this place was fine as it was. She couldn''t imagine any additions or modifications that could enhance the scene further. Taking another step forward, she passed through the colossal rhombus-shaped frame formed by black rocks. Her footsteps were barely audible now, muffled by the swelling sounds that grew louder with each step¡ªas if she were approaching something significant. Though she couldn''t remember exactly what lay ahead¡ªit had been so long¡ªthe uncertainty only turned into excitement as it urged her forward. ¡°We were many once, Crafters of the Iinfinite,¡± As she walked and listened, the scene began transitioning with dizzying speed¡ªalmost too quickly for her mind to process. Beyond the massive structure, the void transformed into a gallery of her creations. Flat rocks soared past to her right, their surfaces flickering with moving images of environments and filtered like vintage films. Gray, golden, and violet dust wove through the air, forming scrolls and central characters from her past works. Below, spectral figures walked the space, born from coalescing motes. ''Are these presentations of memories? A history perhaps?'' Estelle wondered. ''But why? It''s fitting, certainly, but mysterious¡ªthough Architects weren''t the type to record histories of backwater civilizations. However, knowing myself¡ªthere must be a purpose, some hidden meaning within what I''m being shown.'' ¡°Scribes of existence itself.¡± Suddenly, Estelle halted as a memory flashed through her mind. ''I walked alone... is that the next phrase?'' she wondered, her tongue seemingly familiar with it, though doubt clouded her certainty. As she was about to continue reciting the narration, she noticed the broken platforms ahead had abruptly ended¡ªno threads, no beams where new platforms could intertwine. Her eyes narrowed. ''Don''t tell me... Did I never complete this scene? Is that why it just ends here? Or is that why it was archived?'' Try as she might, her memory remained frustratingly blank. Her lips pursed, afraid her racing thoughts might drown out any returning memories. Still, without much else to do, she pressed forward¡ªready to face either a bright ending of a ''completed scene'' or the disappointment of an ''incomplete climax''. ¡°Now¡­ I walk alone.¡± She jolted at the words. ''Oh, I was off by a word. But¡ª'' Estelle took another step forward, stopping before the last floating platform. Looking around, she saw no hints or cues that objects would move to create a path forward. The scattered dust remained still, while the music swelled louder than ever¡ªits epic pattern reaching a crescendo. Estelle drew in a deep breath. ''The next line should be¡ª'' her thoughts trailed off as she took the last step forward. "Where are you going?" "Where are you going?" Her voice synchronized perfectly with the narrator''s questioning tone. A smile spread across her face¡ª''I remembered.'' Then she noticed¡ªThe scene began to dissolve. Every object floated away as dust particles wove together, fading into nothingness again. Her eyes widened as she looked back¡ªthe stairs too were unraveling, leaving only mysterious phantom light in the void. ''Was this supposed to happen?'' she wondered. The music had quieted to a distant whisper, marked only by soft strumming and the tense beating of drums. An electric synth plucked through the mix¡ªbut the epic scene she had witnessed was gone, dissolved after that single question. Now she was alone in the void with only the erratic beating of her heart for company. ''That question¡ª"Where are you going?"'' The words echoed in her mind, carrying weight beyond mere narration. In any normal opening sequence, such a question would be rhetorical¡ªpart of the atmosphere, nothing more. But here, suspended between void and memory, the question demanded more. Her eyes shifted. Other than jumping into the void, she saw no options than replying to those words. Estelle''s answer rose unbidden to her lips, as natural as breathing: "World of Astris." The void suddenly answered. A deafening crack split reality itself. Before she could comprehend what happened, her heart slammed against her ribs as her feet lost their anchor to the platform¡ªto existence itself¡ªher entire body caught by an invisible force that plunged her into the abyss. The music crescendoed into chaos. Through the maelstrom of her own creation, fragments of dissolving reality whipped past her falling form. Each shard reflected memories¡ªher designs, her worlds, her stories¡ªall breaking apart in the wake of her descent. Her scream tore through the void, but the sound seemed to fold in on itself, swallowed by the darkness. As her body plunged deeper, the last remnants of phantom light above fragmented like a shattered mirror. Then nothing. Just the fall. And the vast, endless dark. Chapter 5: Awakening Chapter 5: Awakening Consciousness returned like being pulled from deep water¡ªgradual, heavy, and disorienting. The first breath caught in Estelle''s throat, sharp and desperate, her fingers curling instinctively as if she had been sleeping for far too long in the wrong position. The air felt unusually thick, almost metallic, and wrong¡ªnot warm, but icily cold, carrying a faint rhythmic whisper she couldn''t quite place. Her fingers twitched against what should have been... something else. She couldn''t remember what she expected to feel, but it wasn''t this silky, plush surface beneath her. Her hand moved searchingly, instinctively seeking her familiar weighted blanket. Each movement was sluggish, her limbs heavy as if gravity itself had shifted while she slept. The darkness behind her eyelids was the only familiar thing left, and even that seemed to pulse with an alien rhythm she couldn''t comprehend. ¡®I woke up¡­ from that¡­ dream¡­¡¯ Her thoughts drifted hazily. ¡®So cold¡­ It¡¯s so cold.¡¯ When she finally forced her eyes open, the world refused to settle into familiar shapes. Shadows stretched across unfamiliar angles above her, and what little light existed seemed to bend around corners that shouldn''t be there. Through the blurriness, a soft green glow pulsed at the edge of her vision, too regular to be natural. Estelle tried to push herself up, her body protesting every movement as if she had forgotten how to use it properly, but she fell back softly before she could even lift herself. ''What¡­ is happening? Why am I so tired?'' Her fingers found her face, clearing the crust from her eyelids and massaging the cold bridge of her nose. She waited for a moment, squinting into the darkness. It was too dark to make out anything clearly, save for the endless green pulses above her¡ªthe mysterious light source cast everything in a pale, sickly glow, creating shadowed outlines that bordered her field of vision. These shadows were unfamiliar, as was the glow emanating from somewhere above¡ªit felt wrong, too foreign, as if she wasn''t in her private quarters on her bed. But that couldn''t be true, she thought, doubting her fleeting worry. A soft, rhythmic hissing sound filled the air, reminiscent of ambient music. ''Did I leave the computer on... again?'' [WARNING: ENERGY BANKS CRITICAL. PLEASE ATTEND TO THE SITUATION. WARNING: ENERGY BANKS CRITICAL.] ¡®I did¡­ didn¡¯t I?¡¯ Her eyes twitched, followed by a dry scoff escaping her cracked lips. Her throat felt like sandpaper. ¡®Water¡­¡¯ The announcement¡ªthat metallic, artificial voice echoing with an electronic undertone¡ªmade her wonder if she''d fallen asleep with sci-fi spaceship ambience playing on her personal computer. She tried to remember last night''s details¡ªwhy she had collapsed onto her bed without shutting down her computer¡ªbut her memory stopped at starting a "campaign" on her world. Everything after that was too blurry to process. [WARNING: ENERGY BANKS CRITICAL. PLEASE ATTEND TO THE SITUATION. SECTOR TELLA-BT2 GRID IS NOW OFFLINE.] The ambient audio rang again. The announcer''s androgynous voice was followed by a sharp emergency alarm, breaking any illusion of peaceful ambiance. Estelle wondered if this jarring sound had pulled her from her deep slumber. The darkness was so thick she couldn''t even see the contours of her ceiling¡ªsurely it must still be night, or perhaps just before dawn. Though the darkness beckoned her back to sleep, the burning dryness in her throat demanded attention. She summoned her strength again, but before she could move, a loud thump echoed through the space. Then came the descending sounds of systems powering down, reminiscent of a massive power interruption. The green pulse flickered and died, plunging the room into absolute darkness as even the ambient hissing cut to sudden silence. Estelle¡¯s eyes twitched. ¡®Fuck¡­ Did the power go out? That¡¯s just¡­ perfect. Though I¡¯m sure I charged the battery¡ªthe backup power should switch on.¡¯ She twisted her body, pressing her face into the soft fabric before pushing herself up to a sitting position. Her bones creaked in relief, but her body wobbled precariously¡ªher head felt unsettlingly loose on her shoulders, the world spinning despite her fixed gaze into the darkness. With a groan, she hunched over, dropping to all fours. She crawled forward through the thick darkness, ignoring the dizziness. Her hands slid slowly across the fabric¡ªonce, twice forward¡ªbefore abruptly hitting something solid. Unable to see, Estelle guided her hands over the object, trying to discern its shape¡ªa cold, flat surface, like a wall. As she reached upward, the surface ended abruptly in what felt like a metallic ledge. She tilted her head in confusion. ''What is this? I don''t remember having anything like this in my bed...''This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. Her hand moved over the ledge, searching for solid ground beyond it. Instead, she found only empty space¡ªa drop-off. She mounted her hands on the ledge, trying to make sense of this unfamiliar terrain. Could she have fallen asleep somewhere else? Had she been drinking, and her memories were now playing tricks on her? Then¡ªsuddenly¡ªan announcement boomed through the darkness, that same mechanical voice filling the void: [SUPPLY GRID RESTORED. SWITCHING TO SECONDARY POWER CAPACITOR MODULE. PRIMARY POWER BANK WILL BE UNDERGOING MAINTENANCE FOR 4 HOURS.] Her attention fixed on those words¡ªthe audio still carried an ambient quality, filtered through what sounded like radio static or stereo speakers. Estelle looked toward where the green glow had pulsed moments ago but found only darkness. Something felt deeply wrong. Her personal computer never had an idle screen or sleep mode, and even if the power had failed, its supply should have lasted an hour. Before that, her house''s emergency power would have kicked in. Yet here was this announcement, speaking of power switches as if by weird coincidence. A doubt grew within her mind¡ªeverything had felt alien since she''d awakened. Her fingers trembled against the ledge, and she tried to steady them by tightening her grip. Taking a deep breath, Estelle had a fleeting thought if this was still part of her dream. She gathered her strength to step out¡ªbut before she could move, something in the distance flickered. A light¡ªa single pulse in the darkness. She raised her head to follow it but found only void. She waited, thinking perhaps it was just the power grid returning to life. Another flicker appeared in the distance, longer this time, casting strange shadows across her vision. Shapes began to take form: tall, geometric silhouettes that had no place in any bedroom. The light pulsed again, stronger now, and Estelle caught glimpses of metallic surfaces where there should have been wallpaper, of angular structures where her dresser should have stood. Then, with a low hum that she felt in her bones, all the lights blazed to life at once. The world that materialized before her wasn''t her room at all. Hundreds of pillars filled the vast space, their geometric shapes rising from floor to an unseen ceiling. Each pillar bore intricate textures¡ªengravings that might have been letters or alien markings¡ªand from their peaks, green light waves pulsed downward in steady streams. Not all pillars glowed; some flickered slowly in their descent, while others faded before reaching the ground. It was a familiar sight for an unfamiliar world. This wasn''t her room, she realized with growing shock, but it closely resembled one of her creations: the Architect''s Hall of Sarcophagi. Her eyes widened as she whipped her head around¡ªpillars in black stretched to every corner of the hall, their hidden lighting illuminating the vast chamber. In the distance, black walls of unknown material curved upward to form a massive dome. Similar etchings marked these surfaces, interrupted by smooth, unmarked sections. Red light outlined where the floor met the walls, while waves of green pulsed randomly through the etching. A pathway caught her attention, leading to one of the closed gates. Above it, familiar language glowed in light blue engravings, like a sign beckoning her forward. This place. This world. She remembered it intimately, having spent hundreds of hours perfecting every detail. Blinking twice, three times didn''t change what she saw¡ªthe scene before her remained unchanged. This was unmistakably the chamber where the remaining Architects rested in their sarcophagus. "Am I..." she whispered, her breathing shallow, the words dying on her lips as they transformed into thought. ''Dreaming?'' It was strange¡ªto end one dream only to wake into another. Yet she knew that wasn''t the case. Estelle knew her body well enough to recognize the truth, even as her mind refused to accept it. Her fingers reached for her soft cheeks and pinched hard with her nails, drawing a strange, numbing pain. It wasn''t a dream. It was real. The reality felt more surreal than any dream could be. If her mind and eyes were playing tricks, she would have welcomed their end. Estelle couldn''t find the right words, couldn''t form proper thoughts¡ªher mind was too busy racing to understand how she had arrived here, in this world she had created. Her thoughts overlapped, desperately trying to piece together every detail. That particular evening, in that state of mind¡ªshe had wanted to delete the world, to free herself from its chains, but couldn''t bring herself to do it. Instead, she had created a campaign, an escape from deciding her world''s fate, and then¡ªa flash of light. Estelle''s eyes widened. Something clicked in her memory. She was certain of it now¡ªclicking that button to start the campaign, watching as her monitor''s screen exploded with light¡ªbright enough to blind her. And... and¡ªan ache throbbed in Estelle''s mind, drawing out a groan. That dream¡ªshe remembered it now. The opening sequence, an introduction to the Architects'' origin. The very same Architects who, according to the lore, had built this realm where she now found herself. The evidence surrounded her, screaming the truth of her predicament¡ªsome mystical, unknown force had transformed fiction into reality. Estelle looked down at her hands, now wrapped in black gloves. She stretched her fingers wide, then clenched them tight. The sensation felt foreign, as if this wasn''t her body at all, or perhaps it was simply the unfamiliar touch of gloves she typically never wore. Her clothing had changed as well¡ªmatching what she had seen in that dream: a heavy white gown that folded over her legs and spilled onto the white bedding below, layered over a woolen black mockneck and slick leggings, all wrinkled from her rest. ''Am¡­ I an Architect?'' Chapter 6: Hall of Sarcophagi Chapter 6: Hall of Sarcophagi The realization dawned on Estelle as she carefully studied her surroundings. Her gaze fell to where she had awakened¡ªa white bed with sheets and pillow still bearing the impression of her body. What she had initially mistaken for metal was actually translucent, tinted glass encasing the bed like a coffin. A jolt of recognition hit her: she knew this design intimately. She had created it herself, modeling it in 3D software as an asset for the Hall of Sarcophagus. But this wasn''t the current version¡ªthis was an older variant, one designed to house the original Architects. The same variant she now found herself trapped within. Looking up at the ceiling, she observed an array of mechanical arms extending from a circular centerpiece. Each arm brandished different tools¡ªscrewdrivers, jackscrews, tubes, and metal stakes¡ªall bearing the same distinctive texture as the walls she had noticed earlier. These arms, she realized with growing unease, were the mechanism responsible for opening the coffin. Every detail around her confirmed her identity, yet offered no explanation for how she had ended up here. She inhaled sharply, the cold air burning her lungs as she tried to quiet her racing thoughts. ''Is this a punishment? Or perhaps some twisted blessing?'' The words felt inadequate, failing to capture the strangeness of her situation. None of the thoughts forming in her mind seemed to fit the reality before her. ¡®What do I do now?¡¯ She attempted to ground herself in this reality, but every scenario she imagined felt foreign and wrong. She was completely at a loss¡ªnothing in her experience had prepared her for this. As she swallowed, her parched throat screamed in protest, a physical discomfort that reminded her bodily needs instantaneously. ''Water... right...'' Estelle''s mind slowly began to focus. ''Water, food, basic necessities... and then survey the area. Could I really be in the World of Astris? No... that''s impossible. Completely impossible¡ªit just doesn''t make any sense.'' She paused, her thoughts racing. ''But if not that, then what? No¡ªI need to focus. Water first. Everything else can wait.'' Gathering her strength, she placed her hands on the ledge to pull herself up. To her surprise, her body responded readily¡ªthe weakness from before had largely subsided, though numbness lingered in her strained muscles. Peering over the edge, she found the floor wasn''t as far down as she had feared, perhaps only two or three feet below. She descended carefully, her boots making soft thuds as they touched the floor. She was rather thankful that she was fully clothed, down to her black boots. The oddity of wearing such attire while sleeping in a sarcophagus wasn''t lost on her. Had she written this detail into the world herself, or had the world filled in this particular gap on its own? Either way, practical as the clothing might be, it wasn''t exactly suited for a long sleep in sarcophagus stasis. With both feet on solid ground, she steadied herself and surveyed her surroundings. Though darkness obscured many details, and she stood too far to make out others she knew she had designed, she couldn''t help but feel a surge of awe and pride. ''As expected of me... The Architects were meant to be alien, and this place certainly achieves that.'' Another painful swallow reminded her of the desert in her throat. A sudden throb in her temples drew a groan from her lips. ''Water... fuck.'' The basic need was becoming impossible to ignore. Estelle turned to her right, where she had seen the language of the Architects elegantly engraved in light blue across the protruding wall. Large characters of varying shapes spread across its surface, their design both foreign and purposeful. A smile tugged at her lips as she admired how they had turned out¡ªunique and entirely unlike anything from her previous world. The symbols were more than mere decoration; she could read them with unsettling familiarity. The text clearly stated: [A2: Trigon Sphere Hall]. The name stirred something in her memory¡ªshe was supposed to know this place¡ªshe had created it, after all. But it had been so long since she had last touched or visited it after its completion. She couldn''t quite remember its purpose or what lay beyond the locked gate; the knowledge remained frustratingly out of reach. Her eyes searched the hall for another exit, finding only an endless rhythm of towering pillars and walls. With no other options apparent, she turned her attention back to the gate marked [A2: Trigon Sphere Hall]. As she rounded the sarcophagus where she had awakened, her boots tapped softly against the stone floor, each step echoing through the desolate quiet. The chamber wasn''t entirely silent, though¡ªdistant gases hissed in unseen pipes, and strange lights flickered along the lengths of certain pillars, adding to the chamber''s alien atmosphere. A thoughtful ''hm'' vibrated against her closed lips as her attention fixed on those particular pillars. The sight of the pillars brought back memories of the lore she had written¡ªhow they formed the sanctuary''s core skeletal frame, how not even the native gods could destroy these resting places. A wry smile touched her lips. Though, she doubted the Architects ever needed such security¡ªshe knew their history intimately, having written it herself. The old gods had fallen into slumber after sealing the foreign deities that invaded the World of Astris. Their absolute destiny and fate had been penned by her own hand. She took a deep breath, her steps slowing but never halting. If this was truly the world she had created, then she stood in a realm where godlike creatures existed alongside mortals, where monsters infested every corner¡ªcolonizing the crevices of different realms¡ªand where human technology remained far behind what she had known in her previous world. The implications of her current predicament were almost too numerous to count, too vast to fully list all inside her mind.The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings. While she couldn''t be certain how the mortal world of Astris currently appeared, or if the world resembled anything close to her creation¡ªseeing the details thus far from her awakening; selecting an Architect race had led her to awaken where the Architects rest. She could tentatively place the current time as year 854¡ªthe timeline she had set before starting the campaign, before entering this world. The complexity of her situation extended far beyond her immediate circumstances. Every World had its history¡ªa genesis¡ªa reason, a root from which it grew¡ªeven if shrouded in myths and mysteries that defied explanation. Beyond what she had crafted lay histories she had never written, never known, duplicated variants, or had simply forgotten. Some stories had never been properly documented or made official, and who knew what powerful magic might exist beyond her knowledge? The future loomed before her, riddled with uncertainties. She knew the future, many futures¡ªbut she was no deity who could level the land with a thought. She was merely the scribe who wrote the world, an imperfect world full of holes. A groan escaped her lips as anxiety clouded her thoughts. Lost in contemplation, Estelle found herself standing before a massive gate. Its twin frames emerged from the wall, towering at least five meters high, crowned with the familiar signage she had noticed earlier. The frame bore intricate etchings, echoing those on the wall, though these remained static against the pulsing green light behind them. The gate itself stood apart¡ªstrikingly minimalist compared to the others she remembered designing. A simple rhombus pattern protruded from the wall''s surface, devoid of any glow or additional markings. Something tugged at her memory¡ªperhaps a fragment of lore she couldn''t quite grasp, or a strange sense of d¨¦j¨¤ vu. Her eyes searched the doorframe, finding neither buttons nor handles to interact with. ¡®Could there be¡­ some kind of password?¡¯ Estelle mused, taking a tentative step forward. As she drew near, the massive gate suddenly fractured¡ªits surface splintering like glass. Estelle jolted backward, her mind blank with alarm as she watched the transformation unfold. Along the spreading fissures, an ethereal blue light sparkled in complete silence. She tilted her head, confusion giving way to a slow recognition. ''Ah... Could this be...?'' Her thoughts faded just as they crystallized. She took two deliberate steps forward, watching as more cracks spiderwebbed across the surface. A dry laugh escaped her as understanding dawned. ''Oh, yeah. That''s how this works.'' Estelle stepped forward with newfound confidence. The surface dematerialized before her eyes, breaking apart like shards of stained glass caught in sunlight. Each piece glowed along its shattered edges as it retreated to the sides of the wall. Within moments, a short corridor appeared, leading to another gate ahead. The process was mesmerizing¡ªsilent yet spectacular. She found herself wondering if she had designed these particular details herself. Though the sight felt fresh and somehow foreign to her eyes, there was an underlying certainty about how it all worked. Even after passing through the gates, Estelle couldn''t tear her eyes from the floating fragments of the deconstructed entrance. She turned on her heel, indulging in the beauty of her creation while giving the sanctuary behind her a final glance. Her sarcophagus remained at the center of the room, the mechanical arms protruding from the ceiling¡ªmeant to lock the lid and assimilate the coffin into the ground¡ªnow lying dormant. Her heart skipped a beat as the heavy air forced itself into her lungs. She had seen this exact sight before, but through a different lens¡ªon a screen, carefully composing the perfect shot of the opened lid from this very spot, tweaking the environmental details until they were just right, perfecting every detail. The pulsing green light from the pillars cast an ethereal glow across the hall, while the coffin lay half-open at its center¡ªbathed in mysterious rays streaming from the mechanical arms above. That was the shot¡ªthat was a scene she had captured and edited before sharing with her community of Worldbuilders. Those memories from her past now felt like faded photographs, growing hazier with each passing moment. She swallowed, her mouth painfully dry. ''Later,'' she reminded herself with an exhale. ''We can always find time to explore this... Not now, Estelle.'' However¡ª Curious, Estelle took a step back, watching as the floating fragments twitched in response. Another step, and they trembled in unison. With a third step backward, the fragments shifted, each piece drifting to its designated place as they reassembled into a massive gate. The ethereal blue light bleeding into the corridor slowly faded until it vanished completely, sealing off the Hall of Sarcophagi. The room fell into a profound silence, broken only by her heartbeat thundering in her ears. Then, a sudden flicker overhead caught her attention. A light blue glow traced an intricate pattern¡ªmaterializing into a signage like the previous chamber: [Admin-Sarcophagus hall-A001]. ''Admin sarcophagus hall? Not the Hall of Sarcophagi?'' As questions formed in Estelle''s mind, a flash of memory immediately provided answers. ''Ah... Right. I had duplicated the Sarcophagi hall multiple times before, placing them in this realm to match the population of the Architects. And, in the past, I couldn''t bring myself to delete the old Architect designs¡ªthey were the initial concept designs for the Architects'' theme. Their designs were too fully fleshed out, too valuable to simply discard. So we stored them here¡ªin one of the many resting halls.'' Her brow furrowed as another memory surfaced. ''Wasn''t I supposed to create another species this week? One that would integrate the old Architect design?'' Estelle''s thoughts began to cloud, trailing one after another as she mindlessly turned on her heel. She faced the opposite gate and continued forward. The space between the two gates was surprisingly compact, and the walls¡ªthough bearing the same thematic elements as the previous chamber¡ªdidn''t appear as grand as she remembered. This convinced her that it wasn''t the corridor she initially assumed, but something else entirely. Perhaps a sterilizer, or one of those security checkpoints, or even a decompression chamber like those she had seen in sci-fi concepts and artwork. However, as she approached the second gate, she noticed it didn''t react to her presence, even when she stopped just two steps near it. She lifted her head. ''Huh? Is this one different?'' Her eyes scanned the gate, and caught a familiar feature protruding from the frame¡ªa sleek protrusion that appeared to be an extension of the structure itself. Estelle approached with measured steps, and as she drew closer, the feature became more distinct. Being in the Architects'' realm, she should have expected this¡ªa terminal pad. Chapter 7: What is real? Chapter 7: What is real? The terminal pad before her was a perfect match to her design specifications¡ªalmost unsettlingly so. Estelle ran her gloved fingers along the frame where it merged seamlessly with the wall. The display surface stretched twenty inches across, its glassy dark face reflecting the ambient green glow of her surroundings. A small frown crossed her features; the design too closely resembled the smartphones and touchscreens of her old world¡ªhardly the alien aesthetic she had strived for in her designs. With a muffled groan, she pushed aside her frustration. What use was criticism now, when these terminals already numbered in the thousands across the lands? As her finger met the display, the frame awakened with an identical green glow. Like liquid light, it traced the intricate patterns etched into the border before seeping inward toward the display. Green lines began scribing themselves across the empty screen, converging to form a perfect rhombus at its center. The symbol pulsed once before shattering into countless geometric shapes that filled the dark surface with their verdant radiance. Beams of green light shot upward from this constellation of patterns, materializing into more geometric shapes that expanded outward to form a hovering interface. Estelle caught herself holding her breath as the rhombus reappeared, then dissolved into something more primal: the Language of the Architects. The ancient script crystallized in the air before her eyes: [Security gate of Admin-Sarcophagus hall-A001] ''This interface...'' Estelle studied the geometric shapes drifting across the projection. ''Did I make this, or commission it from someone?'' The aesthetics matched her original vision¡ªthe Architect''s language was exactly right, the signature green illumination perfect¡ªyet something about the floating patterns felt discordant. Squares, diamonds, circles, and stars soared in seemingly random paths. They lacked the purposeful design she remembered inputting into every element¡ªespecially in the case of the Architects. Had this been one of her earlier versions? She couldn''t shake the nagging possibility that she had implemented an outdated variant, mistaking it for the latest iteration. Lost in thought, Estelle reached toward the display¡ªlines of light materialized instantly, trailing each movement of her fingers. ''The basic functions work... That''s promising, but will the system still recognize my commands?'' If it didn''t, she would be trapped here indefinitely¡ªa scenario she desperately tried to push from her mind. She thought of the countless NPCs she had designed to interact with these terminals across the World map, each performing these same gestures. Unlike those background characters created merely to add life to the world, Estelle knew the Language of the Architects intimately enough to speak it at a comprehensive level. A smile tugged at her lips as she reined in her mounting curiosity and excitement. Estelle extended her hand into the display, watching as her index finger pierced the wall of pale green light. White lines began trailing from its tip. ''It''s working. It''s working!'' The corners of her mouth lifted into a genuine smile as a cold breath escaped through her nose. Her fingers trembled as they drew across the holographic display, then halted abruptly as realization struck. ¡°Ah¡ª¡± As she withdrew her fingers from the display, the scribbled lines instantly vanished, as if erased. Estelle tilted her head, puzzled by this unfamiliar behavior. ''Did I program an animation for that?'' She tried to recall creating NPCs interacting with similar assets¡ªbut only hazy, fragmented memories flashed before her eyes. Her instinct insisted she had designed this feature, yet doubt lingered strongly in her mind. Casting aside her uncertainties, Estelle refocused on her goal. She let her fingers sink into the rays of light, beginning to write: "Unlock a¡ª" The moment her fingers left the display to complete the word, the incomplete text vanished. Her eyes twitched. "Huh? It''s deleting when I break contact..." She caught herself starting to spiral into another round of self-questioning and grumbled, "Not now, Estelle." Her eyes darted across the device, searching for anything that might solve her predicament. ''If I were an Architect... how would they handle this? Well... they wouldn''t need to type¡ªthey communicate through signals...'' Abruptly, a new possibility sparked in her mind, but she quickly caught herself wandering down another rabbit hole of speculation. With a firm shake of her head, she forced herself to focus on the immediate problem. She brought both hands toward the holographic display, positioning her left index finger at the far edge while her right hand hovered ready to write. With methodical carefulness, she began crafting the characters, her right hand leaving the display briefly to add crucial dots and connecting lines until the complete message materialized: "Unlock and open the Security gate of Admin-Sarcophagus hall-A001" ¡®It worked¡­ That should do it,¡¯ she thought, but her satisfaction faltered as she examined her handiwork. The characters weren¡¯t as elegant as she had hoped¡ªmore like a student¡¯s practice attempts than the flowing script of a master. ¡®It¡¯s fine,¡¯ she reassured herself. ¡®I haven¡¯t worked with the Architect¡¯s language in weeks. This will serve its purpose.¡¯ As she withdrew both her fingers from the light field, the holographic display rippled. The characters undulated, stretching and contracting like living things, their luminescence gradually fading until they dissolved like ink in water. ¡®Did it work?¡¯ Estelle wondered, absently rubbing her chin.This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. The hologram flickered¡ªthe interface vanishing for a moment before being replaced by four three-dimensional cubes floating in the center. One cube shattered into fragments, followed quickly by the second. As the third cube began to break apart, the first reassembled itself, all of them rotating in an endless cycle like some cryptic loading animation. Estelle''s lips pressed into a thin line. "Did I make a mistake?" The display flickered once more, and new text materialized in the Architect''s language: ¡ª [CONSCIOUSNESS SIGNATURE IDENTIFIED] >Parsing Quantum State¡­ >Mapping Neural Architecture¡­ >Calibrating Temporal References... ¡ª The display erupted with new elements, each screamed new and foreign, sending her eyes wide in surprise. Lines of white text materialized rapidly, scribing themselves horizontally across the projection before cascading downward to form new rows. She jolted forward, caught off guard by the sudden flood of information. Hunching closer to the display, she struggled to process the cascade of data¡ªthe text appeared and transformed too quickly for her eyes to track, let alone comprehend. Geometric symbols materialized throughout the projection, their forms shifting and rotating in a complex dance. They realigned themselves behind the streaming text, coalescing into a cubic structure that pulsed with a pale cyan glow. Before Estelle could fully process the transformation, the holographic display flickered again. The streaming text collapsed into a single rhombus, which then exploded into a new pattern that filled the entire screen: ¡ª ARCHITECT PROTOCOL INITIATED Entity: Estelle Nytelles-AC-A001 [Administrator Class: Original Pattern] AUTONOMOUS AUTHORITY REVALIDATION Status: INITIALIZATION REQUIRED Entity Verification: - Consciousness Pattern: Architect-A001 [VERIFIED] - Temporal State: [DISCONTINUITY DETECTED] - Neural Complexity: Administrator Class [CONFIRMED] - Access Matrix: [DORMANT] DIRECTIVE: Authority revalidation of Administrator-Class protocols pending. All systems, dimensions, and creation matrices await reassignment. Continuation of the Original Pattern required. IMMEDIATE ACTION REQUIRED: > Proceed to Central Trigon Sphere - For Pattern Synchronization - For Authority Matrix Integration - For System Access Restoration ¡ª Estelle stood frozen, her eyes tracking the stream of text¡ªtrying to absorb every detail the terminal displayed. Autonomous authority revalidation, original pattern, matrix¡ªterms exclusive to the Architects, yet she understood their significance. These were the fundamental elements that appeared in all Architect-related systems, the essential queries that needed resolution before any new component could be integrated into the World of Astris. But as comprehension dawned, so did disbelief. The logic was sound, the process familiar, yet something felt wrong. She was certain she had never created this. The security protocols shouldn¡¯t have had this interface¡ªno animations or assets she had designed for this scenario. She was certain of it. If anything, this marks the first encounter with an alien element of the World she had made. A dry swallow caught in her throat as pain began to throb at her temples. Her attention shifted as movement caught her eye. The gate was dissolving, fragmenting into hundreds of pieces that drifted upward like reverse rain. They embedded themselves into the arching ceiling, creating an array of verdant skylight-like apertures. In the darkness above, circular shapes hung suspended, their surfaces catching and reflecting the ambient green glow like polished metal. The gate''s dissolution revealed a long corridor ahead, flanked by sleek pillars that emerged seamlessly from the alien architecture of the walls. Set into these walls at intervals were deep niches, each cavity suffused with a pale green radiance. Within them, Estelle could make out distant objects, too far away to identify clearly. Estelle''s breath caught in her throat as her gaze darted from one luminous detail to another. Along the borders of the path, lines of green light traced the walls like a living circuit, illuminating the way forward to a distant entryway. Through the gap, a familiar object caught her attention¡ªa blue sphere hovering in space, rotating slowly on its axis. Her pulse quickened at the sight; she had used this asset countless times in her designs. ''The Nous Crux Pattern... it''s really there.'' Her heart hammered in her chest, its rhythm thundering in her ears. ''I need to see it up close¡ªmy creation, with my own eyes.'' A flicker in her peripheral vision pulled her attention back to the terminal pad. The holographic display had transformed, its detailed readout replaced by a single floating rhombus at its center. Estelle''s brow furrowed in annoyance. She hadn''t finished processing all the information at a satisfactory level. Estelle''s fingers darted across the display, swiping left and right as trails of white light traced her movements. Her mind raced back to the interface''s reveal¡ªabout herself, her destination, the authority revalidation. The familiarity of it all stirred memories of countless proposals she had written for this very scenario: drafts and outlines exploring what might happen if an Architect remained in this world, sleeping in the Hall of Sanctuary''s Sarcophagus, only to awaken in an age where mortals reigned and the Gods had retreated to their celestial realm. Though most of these stories remained unfinished, mere hypothetical snippets buried in her archives, one particular scenario had been officially implemented. Her gaze drifted over her shoulder to the towering gate, now silent and still, its designation clear: [Admin-Sarcophagus hall-A001]. She had crafted every element of this space¡ªthe introduction of the Architects, the atmosphere, Sarcophagus, all of it¡ªto serve this singular, official narrative. Estelle remembered how most Architects had departed through the Gate, returning to their homeland, while some chose to remain. They slept in their coffins, waiting through millennia for their kin to find them. Now, in an ironic twist of fate, she had become the awakened Architect of her own scenarios. Chapter 8: The First Rule Chapter 8: The First Rule With each step, Estelle¡¯s footfalls echoed through the silent corridor, her pace quickening as she advanced. Her eyes darted from ground to ceiling, absorbing in every detail as she passed the curved niches in the wall. Each display held floating articles¡ªmemories suspended between creator and creation, scenes she had meticulously crafted through countless hours at her desk. What had once been mere pixels and text on her monitor now existed in breathtaking reality. Some pieces were unfamiliar, but most carried the weight of significant historical moments from the world she had shaped. She longed to linger, to memorize every detail, but her throat burned with thirst and her temples throbbed mercilessly. Each time she paused before her creations, her mind screamed for movement, even as her heart begged to stay. The need to examine each piece more closely remained an exquisite torture; she could almost taste the designs on her tongue, her eyes stinging as she forced herself to move on. No ultrawide HD monitor could have prepared her for this¡ªseeing her work with mortal eyes transcended mere pixel displays. The plastic models she had crafted in the previous world now seemed like child''s toys in comparison. Something felt oddly discordant, though. These articles didn''t align with what she had expected from beings like the Architects. Her attention caught on the first exchange gift between the native gods and their alien visitors: an ancient scroll, its parchment aged to amber, bound with a red ribbon whose golden embroidery traced elaborate patterns along its border. Estelle''s heart thundered as she froze in place. This scroll¡ªthe First Rule¡ªhad granted the Architects existence within the world''s natural laws, irrevocably altering the course of history. Estelle swallowed against her parched throat, her body''s immediate needs making themselves known again. She ignored them, drawing a deep breath as she approached the First Rule. "I never updated this part of the map," she muttered, her chapped lips barely moving. "I had no idea what to place in these displays, so I just used random assets representing the Architects and Native gods." What she''d initially feared would disappoint her now held her transfixed, though the verdant glow filling the display niggled at her designer''s instincts. The green light cast an unnecessary tint over the scroll¡ªshe should have kept it white or used phantom lighting instead. As she neared, something caught her eye: a ledge protruding from the base of the niche. Her gaze settled on its black, glassy surface¡ªa sleek panel roughly five inches wide and ten inches long . Her eyebrows rose at its familiarity. ¡°A terminal?¡± As her fingers brushed the black surface, it awakened to her touch. A green rhombus materialized in its center, then exploded into hundreds of geometric shapes that danced across the empty canvas. Beams of emerald light shot upward, coalescing into a holographic display that flickered to life like a futuristic placard: [THE FIRST RULE Expeditionary Campaign post 534, Architect NEP^3. -A physical manifestation created by native god Navaris, granting the Architect domain over Realm Sarfasis. Read more¡­] ¡®So, I was right,¡¯ Estelle remarked to herself. Her fingers hovering near the display. ¡®How could I forget this? The most important item of that era that was referenced so many times¡ªthe pivotal moment between the Architect and the Native gods.¡¯ She studied the scroll floating in its verdant light. The First Rule seemed underwhelming¡ªphysically, at least. Surely there were better ways to represent such a fundamental Law, something grander to match the weight of its existence. Not this fragile scroll that looked as if a stray breeze might shatter it¡ªthough she knew it wouldn''t. Her brow furrowed as she considered alternatives: a colossal sphere hundreds of feet across, perhaps, or a statue of the Native gods themselves. Her mind churned with possibilities, each more otherworldly than the last, but none aligned with the elements already woven into her world. Beyond that, they felt utterly unoriginal¡ªpredictable solutions to an unprecedented challenge. A sigh escaped her lips. "I could have done better than this," she whispered, her words trailing into silent reflection. ''The First Rule is the Architects'' lifeline in this realm. Without it, they would fade from existence the longer they remained in this world.'' Estelle turned her head, scanning the nearby niches, but couldn¡¯t find what she sought. ¡®That¡¯s odd,¡¯ she mused. ¡®Did I place it somewhere else? The Control Center, maybe¡­ Yes, that would make more sense.¡¯ Her boots tapped against the solid ground as Estelle continued forward, each step echoing through the silence like its own ambient track. The thought of music nagged at her¡ªshe had commissioned numerous composers to create fitting atmospheres for this space, pieces she had listened to countless times through her headphones or computer speakers at her desk. An ambience would have made this already profound atmosphere even more remarkable. As she paced down the corridor, her eyes shifted from display to display, until she found herself at the hall''s end. Massive frame-like pillars bounded the path ahead, towering skyward to form an elegant arch. There, suspended further in space, floated a spherical object that made her breath catch¡ªthe Nous Crux Pattern. It pulsed with brilliant blue light, occasionally sinuous with misty white and green that coursed across its surface. The colors merged and flowed like liquid in a sophisticated 3D render, each border birthing new shades of the same ethereal emerald glow. Estelle''s mind went blank as she stared at the core component present in every Architect''s base structure. Whether small, medium, or large, almost every base housed a Nous Crux variant. Her body weakened, and she steadied herself against the massive arching frame as her heart pounded in her chest. She stood transfixed, all words failing her. No combination of adjectives could capture the majesty before her, no description could do justice to the reality of what she had created. Estelle drew in a deep breath, and a single word escaped her lips: "Woah."This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings. Estelle stepped into the Trigon Sphere hall, each footfall making her heart throb harder. Relentless waves of sensation rippled across her skin, raising every hair on her body as her breath grew shallow. Before her, the floor extended outward like an observation deck. Unlike her previous world, there were no handrails¡ªa design choice fitting for the Architects. Massive pillars rose from the ground floor, piercing through several levels before reaching the ceiling, seemingly encasing the Nous Crux pattern at the center of the hall. Waves of green light pulsed along their length, descending in perfect synchronization. She hurried forward, careful to note where the floor ended abruptly. The pathway floor hugged the pillar¡¯ curves, wrapping half-way around their massive circumference. She tried to swallow, but a painful ache spread from her tongue down into her lungs as if she had accidentally devoured a long needle. Her fingers instinctively wrapped around her throat, trying to ease the discomfort. Eyes twitching, Estelle pressed onward, her free hand reaching for the nearest pillar for support. Without warning, a thin filament sprang into view¡ªa curtain of green light hanging motionless in the air. Her gaze followed its stream to where it emerged from an opening in the ground floor. Her eyebrows rose as recognition dawned, drawing a sharp intake of breath. "Right... oh, that''s right!" she whispered. "It''s another terminal¡ªa filamentary terminal screen!" Spinning on her heel, Estelle rounded the pillar within its casting shadows. She quickly passed to the left of where she had entered, her attention immediately drawn to the Nous Crux Pattern''s floating spherical shape, partially obscured by thin, transparent filaments. As she observed more carefully, she counted them silently¡ªeight in total, surrounding the giant blue sphere. The scene before her¡ªeverything she had crafted by hand, this amalgamation of different assets combined into one cohesive space¡ªleft her wordless. It was perfect, yet that word seemed insufficient to capture its essence. Despite the wonder filling her mind, she couldn''t shake the feeling that something was missing. Her footsteps pierced the silence¡ªthe place was desolate. Far too desolate. While this emptiness made sense within context, Estelle couldn''t help but imagine populating the lonely space with mechanical life: spider-like robots, spherical guidance entities, or automatic area denial drones patrolling the area. She inhaled the cold air with a raspy whine, experiencing a peculiar sense of d¨¦j¨¤ vu. She had contemplated this before, she was certain, but the conclusions she had reached then remained annoyingly out of reach. Her eyes twitched at the sight of the observational platform before her¡ªit ended abruptly, well short of the filamentary terminal. No connection, no bridge, not even enough reach for her to hunch forward and write commands on the screen. The new variants of Architects could easily float their heavy metallic bodies across this gap. But unlike them¡ªshe looked down at her outstretched hands¡ªshe was trapped in humanoid form that was the old variant of the Architect race, primarily biological in composition. Unconsciously, she clenched her fists, numbness spreading up to her shoulders as a groan escaped her tight lips. "Fuck. If only... I..." Her voice, raspy and strained, faded into internal thoughts: ''If only I had made a new avatar, used one of the new Architect variants instead...'' Her gaze remained fixed on her hands until movement behind them caught her attention. Shifting focus, she noticed black fragments¡ªcubes, spheres, and various geometric shapes¡ªhovering animatedly below the platform''s edge. Estelle blinked. "Oh... Is this...?" An idea formed in her mind, but she hesitated to fully trust her understanding. Estelle slid one foot forward¡ªthe black fragments quickly responded, forming a pathway ahead. ''I certainly didn''t make this... Or did I? Maybe during the old Architect variants'' era, and I''ve forgotten about it... Maybe.'' She wasn''t certain, and typically, she would have turned to her software to search for answers among the notes and comments. But her current position made such actions impossible. Unconsciously, she tried to swallow, but her body responded with rough, dry coughs that made her throat throb¡ªdying coughs that reminded her of her desperate situation. ''Fuck... Water...'' Estelle summoned her strength, willing her feet to move. She kept a steady pace, eyes locked on the green filament screen ahead, deliberately ignoring the sides where the platform dropped to the bottom far below. Though aware that a fall from five stories might not kill her, she didn''t want to imagine what such a drop would do to her already weakened body. If anything, she was increasingly aware of the fall on both sides. Her heart pounded against her ribs, and she shook her head slightly, forcing her mind to focus on the path before her. When she arrived, Estelle lifted her trembling fingers to the green filament. Following her earlier understanding, she pressed her left index finger to the corner, leaving trails of stark white light against the pale green backdrop. Confirming the interface responded as expected, she raised her right hand and began writing in the Language of the Architects: [Fresh water for safe biological consumption.] She paused, her right hand hovering over to rub her chin. The symbol for the addon component eluded her parched mind, but her burning throat demanded action over perfection. She continued: [Fresh water for safe biological consumption. Store in a glass container, compatible with biological body-Estelle Nytelles.] Her eyes flickered across the command, doubt gnawing at her consciousness. The syntax felt right¡ªfresh water, biological compatibility, personal containment specifications¡ªbut in her current state, she couldn''t trust her memory completely. Still, with relief so close, theoretical perfection seemed a distant concern. Estelle withdrew her fingers from the display, watching as the written words stretched gossamer-thin before fading in color. A subtle nod escaped her as the command registered. ''It worked,'' she thought, hope rising in her chest. For a heartbeat, nothing happened. Then the Nous Crux Pattern pulsed¡ªexpanding like a cosmic heart before her eyes. A flash of movement caught her attention, and Estelle whirled to see the towering pillars beginning to change. Their solid forms dissolved, fragmenting into hundreds of geometric shapes that peeled away like metallic petals caught in gravitational force. They scattered to the sides, forming a shimmering corridor of suspended fragments¡ªlike the gates from before. Through this newly formed passage, a stream of geometric forms emerged¡ªblue, green, and white¡ªabominably twitching across the air like an otherworldly spirit. They soared past her right shoulder, their light casting strange shadows across her face as they flowed toward the Nous Crux Pattern. ''Wait¡ª'' Estelle''s thoughts stumbled as her eyes widened. She blinked, her jaw slackening in wonder. ''I didn''t... I haven''t made this.'' The geometric shapes spiraled into the Nous Crux Pattern, which responded with another pulse that sent ripples through the air. Misty white tendrils whirled around the sphere like solar prominence, while threads of green light wove through their borders in intricate patterns. Estelle watched, transfixed, as something began emerging from the Nous Crux Pattern''s Surface¡ªa form wrapped in white mist that drifted toward her with deliberate movement. As it approached, the mist gradually thinned, and Estelle''s blanked mind slowly registered what she was seeing¡ªsuspended within the swirling mist was a simple glass cup, filled with water. Chapter 9: What now? Chapter 9: What now? ¡°What now?¡± Estelle¡¯s voice rippled through the stillness. Her fingers trembled as they wrapped around the cold, empty glass¡ªnot quite a drinking glass, she observed, but rather a jar, given its bulk. Had it possessed a neck like a bottle, the shape might have made more sense. Her gaze drifted to the center of the hall, where the Nous Crux Pattern continued its eternal swirl. Reaching up, she pinched her chin between her fingernails. The sharp ache that spread across her skin only reinforced her growing certainty about her situation. This wasn''t a dream¡ªshe knew that much without doubt. Yet the phenomenon before her defied all logic, existing outside the bounds of any quantifiable reality she knew. Estelle clenched her teeth and exhaled slowly. No matter how she tried to deny it, here she sat, pressed against the walls of the Trigon Sphere hall, watching the Nous Crux Pattern as it floated. A weary sigh escaped her lips. ¡°What now?¡± her voice reached none in this desolate realm, but she repeated, trying to ground the topic she needed to resolve rather than dwelling matters that are not important. When her mind wandered slightly off topic, she quickly shook her head. ¡®Focus on survival first,¡¯ she chided herself. ¡®Food, water, basic necessities¡ªeverything else comes later.¡¯ Planting her feet firmly on the ground, Estelle pushed against the wall and slowly rose. She shot a glance to the Nous Crux pattern, then to the filamentary just to the side. She considered, ¡®Food¡­ That is slightly worrying¡­ I don¡¯t recall making any environmental mapping for it, but I had mentioned they have enclosed biofarms¡­ Or hydroponics, or sci-fi greenhouse¡ªwhatever you call it. Though, I don¡¯t recall what type of food they are cultivating. Knowing the Architect¡¯s body is mixed between mechanical cybernetics and biocomposites, their skin tissues were genetically made to stretch, hyper-hyper adaptability against high and low temperatures¡­ So¡­ Their food needs protein, vitamin C, D¡­ and, what is it? Some kind of acid?¡¯ She tilted her head, her fingers rubbing her chin while her feet carried her forward. ¡®If only I had the internet¡­ Or access to my World for confirmation¡­¡¯ Her eyes caught the thin green filament several feet off the platform. ¡®Maybe I can search there? Hm, don¡¯t you get protein from meat, fish, or chickens? Wait¡­ Now that I think about it, don¡¯t some nuts give you protein? Then again, do they eat nuts? Wait, no¡­ That¡¯s just silly. Imagine steel teeth grinding on nuts¡­¡¯ She almost laughed at the mental image. ¡®If we think about it logically, they would have fabricators that turn nutrients into paste, or some kind of nutrient fluid battery to plug into their generator, or stomach¡­ or something like that¡­ I¡¯m not so sure¡­¡¯ Before she realized it, Estelle¡¯s hands crossed her clothes, searching within her pockets for something¡ªthen immediately froze when she felt nothing. Frantically. She patted over her clothes before coming to an abrupt realization. ¡°Oh¡ªmy phone. Right. Certainly. Indeed. I see. I don¡¯t have it¡± ¡°¡ªI don¡¯t have it¡­¡± her voice faded into a grumbling whisper. She shook her head, much softer this time. Estelle turned her attention ahead of her path, eyeing on the nearest filament still some distance away. ¡®I¡ªI don¡¯t want to accidentally fall¡­ It might be better to go to the ground floor, huh,¡¯ she remarked. Estelle pivoted slightly on her heel, allowing her to strafe around the rounding platform. As she continued observing, slightly grinding her teeth, something began to swell inside her. The longer she looked, the more she took in the designs of her creation, the harder it became to think clearly. She tried to hold back¡ªbut something inside her mind was bawling, screaming at her body to move and hug those pillars, perhaps roll across the floor, or trace those etchings with her fingers. Especially those etchings¡ªthe ones she recalled spending hundreds of hours on before giving up and discovering auto-generated textures. Yet, despite it all, she held herself back. Grinding her teeth, she steeled herself¡ªclenching her fist. ''Don''t think... too much about it, Estelle,'' she reminded herself, ''There is always time... I can always make up time.''This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there. Several steps onward, Estelle''s body was cast in shadows by the massive pillar¡ªoccasionally bathed by streaming waves of green light descending along its surface. At that sight, her lips pursed. ''How did I not find this cool until now? Damning hell. Holy gods... my minds, and my minds, and my minds... is this really real?'' Estelle pinched her wrist again, the sharp ache once more confirming her doubts. There was something crawling inside her mind, the familiar sensation of ideas rising from a thousand graves in her consciousness, surging forward. She abruptly stopped on her heel¡ªwatching as another wave of green light, liquid-like, snaked through the sleek pillar''s engravings. These appeared different from the ones in the hall before¡ªthe reason slightly eluded her, but she knew there were distinct features. She wanted to take a moment and recall. However, knowing her current issue was far more urgent, she decided against it. Estelle urged herself forward, her eyes pinned on the last green wave falling from the pillar, descending until it vanished beneath the floor, then shifted her gaze ahead. Immediately, a wall of pale blue light entered her view¡ªher eyes widened in surprise as a series of memories flashed through her mind. Her legs slowed unconsciously while her eyes darted from one detail to another¡ªher mind following and registering what she was seeing. The pale blue wasn''t strong in color; if anything, it was profoundly translucent, almost blending with the muted tones of the environment. The light formed a perfect circle, creating a wall as it beamed from floor to ceiling. ''The Architect''s Amazing 1.0 Floor Transitioning Device''¡ªits name abruptly materialized in Estelle''s mind, prompting her to stop dead in her tracks. ''Oh... Fuck...'' She slowly restarted. ''Oh, no. Don''t tell me the architects actually made their elevators that¡ªreally that of my placeholder. Oh no¡ª... Oh no. What about the others? Haven''t we officialized many details in the past, but I couldn''t figure out names and did placeholders instead... Oh no.¡¯ The slit of her mouth pursed thinly, turning to a somewhat wry grin. ''That would be funny to imagine though¡ªArchitects having troubles with their naming sense¡ªwell, they do have a more logistic approach if anything...'' Her thoughts trailed off, and her eyes widened when a sudden revelation dawned. ''Fuck¡ªnow that I think about it, it does seem they would name their elevators like that. Of course, minus all the adjectives and verbs.'' Estelle continued forward, the naming theme still occupying her mind. With every mindless step, her legs brought her closer to the Transition Device, while her thoughts drifted again. She was certain she had been leaning toward developing the Architect''s race further¡ªwhat lay unknown beyond the Gates of Another World left by the Architects in this realm. However, she couldn''t seem to recall the details she had changed¡ªaside from the Transition Device. More apparent to her mind, however, was the reasoning that led her to stop progressing¡ªtaking a break for many weeks before bringing herself back to that desk. To that World inside a digital realm, one that grew alongside her, the World that she had poured effort, energy, money, and time into. Estelle couldn''t figure out why her thoughts led to this very moment, yet she didn''t deny them. She pivoted on her legs and eyed the massive spherical shape of the Nous Crux Sphere. Though part of her mind questioned if this impossible scene would have happened had she deleted the world instead of starting a campaign¡ªsomehow, Estelle didn''t want to answer that. She tried to keep herself busy by taking in her surroundings. Above, where the filamentary screens met the ceiling, she noticed a piece protruding downward like a ring. At that sight, Estelle commented, "Right... that one too," and immediately smiled. ¡®Right, that one too,'' she repeated inside her mind, still eyeing the ring. She felt her fingers itching as something surfaced in her mind. ''Right, that one, that one. Right,'' she repeated, nodding her head. ''I was making a concept before stopping. I wanted to know¡ªI wanted to see how a populated base of Architects filled with mechanoids, or androids, auxiliary drones, and their overlord Architects would look like. But I never finished it¡ª'' Her thoughts went silent¡ªa moment of pure clarity. She stood motionless, her lips parted slightly. Her gaze flowed, taking in the scene once again¡ªit was majestic, it was beautiful, and more importantly, inspiring. Something sparked behind her eyes, while her fingers began itching. ''I want to draw¡ªI want to draw again. Fuck. I want to make more of this scene¡ªperhaps humans, or Tyrs. Or perhaps champions, or the Cultists of the Sea¡ªsomeone, anything. Perhaps they can discover this place¡ªnot this place actually. More like the ancient Architects'' base in the mortal realm, yes. That....'' Then she snapped back with a loud inhale. She was certain¡ªthis feeling, the hunger; the urge, the desire¡ªthe inspiration and motivation. She knew this so well. The longer she stared, the more intricate details she discovered she had made in the past¡ªthe urge to write concepts, draw art only grew. Estelle clenched her teeth, shaping her hands into fists. ''This is so wild. So fucking wild.'' She rapidly shook her head, hands moving with the motion, her energy levels maxing out as it released through her movements. ''I want to see how this looks from the ground.'' Chapter 10: Design Choices Chapter 10: Design choices A soft gasp escaped Estelle''s lips as she extended her fingers into the wall of blue light. They slipped through easily, just as she had expected, but an alien sensation lapped against her skin through her clothes, instantly alerting her to something otherworldly. Rather than retreat, curiosity drove her forward. Within the shimmering boundary, the air felt thick and heavy, as if her hand was plunging deep underwater. The light tinted her hands a ghostly blue¡ªwait, just her hands? Her mind caught on that detail. The effect stopped abruptly at her wrists, leaving her forearms completely normal. And the sensation... there was something odd about how it crossed her skin. Unable to resist experimenting, she let her hand drift before her, playing against the soft, viscous resistance. There was an odd tugging sensation, like something beyond the light was subtly pulling her in. Her lips parted in awe as her hands continued their exploration, submerged yet strangely dry, through the dense air. ¡°That¡¯s¡­ weird,¡± she murmured. Her mind kept telling her it was like water, yet there wasn¡¯t any coolness, no dampness¡ªjust this strange illusion of weight pressing against her movements. It was as if the light itself resisted her while refusing to let go. The foreign element puzzled her; she had never written much detail about this device in her worldbuilding. It was, after all, something she had only recently added. As she observed her hand, her thoughts began to spiral: ''Wait, is this what Architects feel when they teleport? But... weren''t their skin autonomous? Or did I write them with actual sensation receptors? I can''t even remember if¡ªhold on, they can sense vibrations, right? But is that the same thing as feeling? Did I ever actually define that?'' A quiet groan escaped her as she pressed her fingers against her lips. The absence of her phone hit her suddenly¡ªshe would have been searching for answers by now. ''Stupid habits,'' she thought, puckering her lips. ''I''m definitely an idiot¡ªbut I need those answers.'' With an amused smile, Estelle pushed aside her hesitation and stepped into the wall of pale blue light. The sensation rushed over her like an uncomfortable, cold embrace. Her vision blurred momentarily as her head passed through, and suddenly everything shifted¡ªthe Architect''s structure, usually dominated by dark blues, greens, and stone-black, now awash in a pale blue tinge. ¡°Woah,¡± she gasped. ¡°That¡¯s so¡­ fucking cool¡­ Holy fantasy¡ªwoah.¡± She found herself at the center of the circle, scanning for changes. The new color scheme impressed her until her eyes landed on the Nous Crux Pattern. Her excitement deflated slightly. ''Right, way to get distracted by pretty lights when there''s literally a floating cosmic pattern right there,'' she mocked herself, forcing a dry laugh. ''Whatever, whatever. It''s cool, so¡ª'' The thought cut off as she remembered why she was here. Swiveling her head, she focused on the more pressing question. ¡®How do I activate this? How do I even do the things that the old Architects do?¡¯ Her eyes traced the wall of blue light surrounding her. ¡®Could this be used as a terminal?¡¯ The thought struck her, then immediately felt wrong. ¡®No, that¡¯s just odd.¡¯ Despite dismissing the idea, Estelle found herself moving closer to the pale blue enclosure. Her gaze followed it upward to where it met the ceiling, perhaps twenty or thirty meters above. Something caught her eye¡ªmarkings etched into the ceiling, different from the textured patterns on the walls and pillars. They resembled geometric symbols, almost like glyphs or runes. She should know their meaning, but the details escaped her. She frowned, slowing to a halt near the border. Something felt off¡ªthese markings seemed more decorative than functional, just there for atmosphere. Estelle shook her head, trying to force herself to focus. Stretching both hands out, she touched the wall of light. Her hands passed through without response, no hint of activation. The cold air from the hall seeped through her gloves, feeling strangely out of place. ''Thought so,'' Estelle mused. ''Was this a bad design choice? I probably should have added a terminal here. The original idea was a transition device¡ªsomething to help Architects who woke up with unfavorable aspects to their forms. Whether their body functions malfunctioned or they''d forgotten how to use their features...'' She paused, memories of her design flowing back. ''There''s only one fabricator medium module in this facility, down in the manufacturing area on the ground floor. And the control center...'' Her brow furrowed. ''Right¡ªnorth from the Nous Crux Trigon sphere hall. From there, they could head to manufacturing to repair or renew their bodies.'' She rubbed her temples, frustration creeping in. ''Why didn''t I think this through more carefully?'' The Society of Architects¡ªEstelle remembered writing them as a hivemind species, advanced enough to transfer consciousness between avatars and mediums. Almost everything about them and their devices relied on signal waves. She nodded to herself, recalling how she had crafted them to be powerful yet with clear weaknesses, a spatial void hive race with depth and limitations.Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. ''But what signals did they use exactly?'' she grumbled to herself. ''Telepathy works through psychic waves patterns, and deitism uses prayer and chanting patterns¡ªwasn''t that just for the administrative-class Architects?'' Her brow furrowed. ''How do I even do that? I made this avatar years ago, but...'' She looked down at her hands, flexing them open and closed. The tight black gloves, the flowing white gown¡ªdetails sparked more memories. ''This avatar... it''s origin-class, isn''t it?'' Her eyes narrowed in concentration. ''Origin-class had something to do with their birthplace, one of their so-called heavens. But what signals do origin-class beings emit?'' A sudden realization made her pause. ''Wait¡ªsound is also a signal, isn''t it? Right... right! They have artificial mouths as backup when signals are dampened or interfered. That''s why they maintained their own language¡ªnot just written, but spoken too.'' Estelle found herself nodding unconsciously as the pieces came together. Sometimes being the creator meant remembering your own rules piece by piece, she mused No sooner had this thought crossed Estelle''s mind than she reached an abrupt conclusion, her attention drawn to something far more exciting than her current musings. The blue light enclosure stood silent, as if waiting for its creators'' songs¡ªand for a moment, Estelle felt a poem forming in her mind for this very scene. But as her eyes fixed on the wall of light, her heart began to pound, so loud it seemed to sync with her surroundings. A cold shiver ran down her spine, her nerves suddenly alert. Estelle gulped and stepped back at the center of the enclosure. With rising anticipation that cringe her lips, she whispered, ¡°Command¡ª¡± She waited, teeth clenched and hands clasped together, eyes searching frantically for any change in the canvas of blue. Seconds stretched into minutes. Nothing changed. She swallowed hard, and tried again, strangely shying her voice, ¡°C-Command? Uh, Hello? Anything? Architect here.¡¯ No response. Just silence and the loud beating of her heart. ''Shit,'' Estelle internally cursed, turning toward the center of the hall. ''Does this thing not even work? How am I supposed to go down¡ªjump?'' She immediately halted at that impulsive thought. ''I''d definitely die. This body is an old variant Architect¡ªmostly biological flesh like a normal human.'' Her frustration peaked as she ran her hands through the tinted blue of her black hair. ''Why did I design it this way? I''d love to have a word with whoever thought this was a brilliant idea¡ªoh right, that was me! I have absolutely no explanation! Fuck.'' Her lips twisted as a sigh escaped. ''Now what¡ªI''m stuck here... Oh¡ªoh wait, fuck. Am I stupid? Yes, of course. But this is a special kind of stupidity.'' She pressed her palm against her forehead. ''Why didn''t I try speaking in Veroy when I''m literally in the Architect''s realm? Of course they wouldn''t understand my dialect, you absolute idiot.'' She shook her head with an exaggerated sigh. When Estelle finally turned back to the enclosed wall of light, she whispered in the Architect''s language, "¨ˆ¨ˆ¨ˆ¨ˆ¨ˆ¡ª" She jerked backward, the foreign words dying in her throat. The voice that emerged wasn''t her own¡ªit was something else entirely, yet carried an unsettling familiarity. She stared at her trembling hands, then at the luminescent wall. There was no doubt she had spoken in the Architect''s language, and the words had definitely come from her own lips, but that voice... that voice was different. Hesitantly, she tried again, slower this time. "Command¡ª" As the alien words fell from her mouth, the wall of light rippled¡ªflexing like a wave along its towering length. Estelle''s breath caught as the Transition Device finally responded. A glow beneath her feet drew her attention to a familiar symbol¡ªthe same one from the ceiling. Its lines curved inward toward the ground, simultaneously lighting up in the same ghostly green. "Woah¡ª" The word slipped out unconsciously. ''It worked! It actually worked!'' her mind raced with excitement. Estelle swallowed nervously, feeling tension return to her arms even as an ever-growing wry smile spread across her face. She continued in the Architect''s language, ¡°Transition device¡­ um¡­ activate¡ª¡± She stopped abruptly as realization struck. ''Oh, this voice. This is my voice¡ªthe one I edited for the Architect''s introduction. But why does it only change when I speak their language?'' Her eyes widened. ''Wait¡ªthe Pattern Frequency! Every Architect has their own pattern, their frequency. They use it to identify each other, to detect imposters, even to filter out mundane signals like radio waves. It''s a security measure for their civilization... I think?'' Her thoughts scattered as the Transition Device fluctuated¡ªits wall of blue canvas rippled like disturbed water, gradually thinning before settling still. The device looked unchanged, and Estelle couldn''t help but wonder if she had lost her chance by getting lost in thought. She groaned, cleared her throat, and tried again: "Command." The wall of blue light rippled in response, encouraging her to continue as she pushed her worry aside. "Transition Device Activate." As the words left her lips, the blue light dimmed then brightened, individual points merging into a unified glow that reflected off their surroundings. A grin spread across her face. ''Okay, that''s cool. I like it.'' "And transition to¡ª" Her smile widened. ''That''s so fucking cool. Holy Architects.'' ¡°¡ªmain floor of the Trigon Sphere Hall.¡± Chapter 11: Of sleeping Songs finding Voices again Chapter 11: Of Sleeping Songs Finding Voice Again The fabric of space began to bend with a sound that shouldn''t exist¡ªa noise that bypassed her ears and manifested in her mind¡ªa frequency that set every cell in Estelle¡¯s body humming like a living tuning fork. An invisible force pressed against her with the weight of ocean depths, driving her backward. Before she could steady herself, gravity twisted sideways, transforming the floor into a wall. Her gamer instincts kicked in as she reached for any anchor point, but the forces vanished before her fingers could find purchase. In that suspended moment, the universe seemed to forget its own rules, leaving her floating in perfect stillness. Her knees buckled, sending her down hard against what had reasserted itself as the floor. The alien vibration lingered in her trembling limbs as her thoughts cascaded like breaking glass: the sound¡ªsomething between a dying scream and a failing engine¡ªthe strange transition effects, the impossible physics. Each observation spawned new questions, fragmenting her understanding like light through a broken prism. A violent shiver raced down Estelle¡¯s spine, setting her body trembling beyond control. Waves of cold crawled across her skin, raising goosebumps in their wake. She hugged herself tightly, desperate to regain some semblance of control. Everything had happened too fast¡ªa blur of sensations and voices that her mind couldn¡¯t quite grasp, leaving only the ghost of their presence behind. Her eyes darted around, searching beyond the blue canvas of the enclosure to the outside world, seeking answers to what had followed her words. What she saw stole her breath away¡ªa sight so magnificent it felt sacrilegous to witness. Here, impossibly manifested before her, stood her creation brought to life. The world she had only dreamed of , the one she knew would forever exist solely in a digital realm, now stretched out in a physical form. A profound numbness spread across her skin as her mind struggled to process the reality before her. No words in her vocabulary could capture the sheer artistry of what she beheld. "Woah!" The word escaped her in a sharp exhale, wholly inadequate to express the magnitude of what she was seeing. A vast chamber stretched before her, its massive pillars encircling the centerpiece of the Trigon Sphere hall. Soft blue light cascaded down their ancient surfaces, bathing the misty floor in an ethereal glow. Estelle¡¯s thoughts stuttered to a halt. ¡®Wait, blue? Isn¡¯t it supposed to be¡ª¡± The question forming in Estelle¡¯s mind faltered as she took in the sacrosanct hall¡¯s azure tinge. Thick mist swirled below the first level of the hall, and blue lights blinking further some hallway doors¡ªyet everything seemed bathed in an overwhelming blue. Understanding dawned almost immediately, drawing a wry smile to her lips. ¡®Right. Of course. How could I have forgotten so quickly?¡¯ She pushed herself upright, her gaze falling on what she had first thought was a glass jar¡ªno, a simple drinking glass¡ªthat must have slipped from her grasp earlier. As she reached for it, the lingering numbness buzzed across her body, sharply reminding her of recent events. However, her scattered thoughts were interrupted by the sight of strange etchings on the floor beneath her. Though her sprawled legs and lab coat obscured most of the markings, she recognized them instantly¡ªthe intricate patterns of the transition device. A peculiar conflict arose within her. The urge to trace every line, to feel the ancient stone beneath her finger, warred with the flood of information and memories cascading through her mind. She found herself frozen between these competing impulses, unable to form a coherent thought. Yet she became aware of expression¡ªfingers rising to touch her lips, finding them stretched into a wide arc. Even in her mentally chaotic mind, awe had painted across her face in an irrepresible smile. ¡°W-what¡­¡± Estelle muttered, the question hung incomplete. To whom? It was unclear, even to her. ¡°Damn¡­ Damn¡­ Is this real?¡± She clenched her teeth, her smile bordering on manic as pure creator''s joy threatened to overwhelm her. ''Holy shit,'' the thought pulsed with each heartbeat, spawning endless questions: Real? Divine? Infernal? She should have expected this¡ªknown she would encounter this scene eventually. But expectations were one thing; having her favorite creation manifest before her mortal eyes was another entirely. No amount of anticipation could have prepared her for the weight of implications crashing through her mind. Her gaze swept across the hall once more, and something shifted. Beyond the grandeur, past even her creator''s pride, she felt a pull¡ªnot physical, but like a whisper weaving through her thoughts, drawing her attention to the shadowed corridors ahead. Perhaps it was just her mind crafting an excuse, seeking permission to step further into this divinity. Before she even realized it, she was on her feet, her body moving of its own accord. With each step, her awareness heightened; her heartbeat thundered, and her breathing grew loud, too shallow, too present. Memories crystallized with every footfall, and wherever her eyes landed, a thought unfolded. The hall beckoned, and something in her¡ªwhether architect or artist, she wasn''t sure¡ªanswered. As she passed through the wall of blue light, a cold gust of wind swept through her black hair. The lingering sensations from the Transition Device sloughed away like a shedding skin. Estelle shivered as the world around her sharpened into focus. Her movement halted¡ªthump-thump¡ªher footsteps echoed through the quiet chamber. Thump-thump. The sound repeated endlessly until it died in the far corner, leaving only the rush of blood in her ears and the shallow rhythm of her breathing. Then even those faded, and her eyes met complete silence.Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site. ¡®The World bloomed with color once more, blessing the eyes that beheld it,¡¯ Estelle realized, thoughts finally falling into place. The main hall of the Trigon Sphere defied her remembered design¡ªor rather, her expectations before memory caught up. Where she had previously made muted grays and blacks, white now sprawled across the grand scene, creating textures like marble and quartz where light had flowed. Colossal pillars stretched from floor to ceiling, carrying the weight of the upper levels, their gray surfaces etched with perpetually cascading waves of green. Her eyes traced the black borders that boldly lined the hall, following the numerous rings that encircled both pillars and centerpiece. Thin lines connected these circles in seemingly random patterns across the floor, but she knew better. Like the ancient magical symbols they resembled, each line and stroke held purpose and meaning. After all, she had designed them¡ªthough now she struggled to remember exactly why. It had been too long since she had touched the magic of the ancients. Movement in the hall kept her eyes busy. Mists¡ªnow red and green, rarely blue¡ªsoared like birds from pillar to pillar. Each vapor embraced the massive columns before dissipating, suggesting some hidden connection between them. The mists didn''t just interact with the pillars; they also touched the transparent green filament screens that cascaded from the ceiling like curtains. Now that she noticed, there was a subtle shift in their color. Her eyes followed the filament lining up to the higher floors, where they grew thicker in their ascent, though remaining ethereal and translucent. Among and above all else stood Nous Crux Pattern, the Trigon Sphere¡¯s core, serving as the grand central processor where data calculations were conducted. ¡®Like a CPU,¡¯ Estelle¡¯s mind supplied, commenting on the quiet narration in her thoughts. Her gaze finally settled on the central station device, positioned atop a platform raised several feet off the ground. A memory flickered, drawing an involuntary smile to her face. Many had mistaken this device for what kept the Nous Crux Sphere afloat¡ªan assumption she''d never understood until now. Standing here, it seemed an undeniable fact, and she found herself nodding in agreement. The facility''s Central Integrated Interface was visible from her position. its controls hidden within the station''s seamless, circular construction. The desk formed an unbroken ring, its outer shell a smooth, metallic surface that offered no hint of how an Architect might access its inner workings. A thought suggested adding stairs and a gap for entry¡ªbut her mind immediately countered: they could easily teleport. She silently shook her head at the unnecessary proposal. From her distance, Estelle studied the control panels lining the inner rim. They floated in perfect formation, facing inward toward the empty center like petals of a mechanical flower, their soft displays casting a gentle glow. A red light suddenly manifested among the translucent screens, stark against the ambient blue. She tilted her head, searching her memory for this particular element, and watched as the crimson glow expanded¡ªlines flowing outward from the spherical source like self-writing code. ¡®Ish. T¡¯was. Now that''s astounding. Very Architect-like,'' she thought, an impressed grin spreading across her face. Her mind drifted to deeper implications: ''Lights and colors are more than decoration¡ªthey''re waves, a language Architects can interpret.'' The observation felt important, and her mind was cryptic with their message. To whom those implications were? To herself, maybe. She wasn¡¯t so certain and kept nodding as if her thoughts made any drop of sense. She stepped forward into her creation¡¯s heart, even as part of her mind insisted none of this could be real. Each footfall¡ªtip-tap¡ªbroke the silence that had ruled these ruins since the time of ancients. Though different from the sounds she originally had¡ªcommissioned for ambience¡ªthese echoes, however, felt oddly fitting. They spoke of awakening, of ancient Architects stirring from their Sarcophagi, of sleeping songs finding voice again. Quite poetic her thought was as she filed away this observation¡ªfor a proposal for how she could envision and outline an Architect¡¯s awakening. Her gaze was drawn inevitably upward to the floating Nous Crux dominating the space. Its upper half remained obscured by the arching ledge of the second level, yet its massiveness was undeniable¡ªspanning easily fifty meters or more, though exact measurements seemed to slip from her grasp as her eyes swept the chamber. The walls bore a metallic quality¡ªperhaps they were metal, though she couldn''t be certain. On one section, black engravings stood stark against the surface: intricate symbols and geometric patterns forming a magic circle. Estelle remembered designing it, but years had passed since she had last seen it, and its purpose now eluded her. Something deep within her mind whispered that understanding it wouldn''t be as simple as she might wish. As her eyes traced the repeating patterns across the walls, she recognized their significance¡ªthese magical formations served a specific purpose, one she remembered carefully designing. Yet when she reached for the exact details, the precise reasoning, she found only fragments of memory: hours spent bonding with the patterns, gushing over their intricacies. Distrusting her own thoughts, she turned to look over her shoulder, suddenly aware of the vast space at her back. The open hallway stretched before her, unnecessarily wide and long, until it suddenly plunged downward. Although Estelle couldn''t see where this particular passage led, as the ceiling slanted sharply down, she knew what laid ahead. After all, there was only one passage in the main hall that extended further north, and its name materialized in her mind with certainty: ''the control center.'' A sudden sensation tugged at her thoughts¡ªan urgent whisper that there was work to be done in the control center. The specifics remained frustratingly out of reach, yet her instincts insisted on its importance. She halted mid-step, turning to fully face the passage. As she scanned the corridor, intending to chase down that elusive memory, her gaze caught on the wall of blue light¡ªthe transition device. It appeared more translucent now, paler than she remembered from her earlier encounter. Perhaps it was the contrast against the white tiles behind it, their black-lined surfaces still gleaming despite years of abandonment. Something about the device kept drawing her attention, tugging at her memory, until¡ª "Shooting hells!" She jolted backward. ¡®It looks exactly like a game interaction prompt! What in the world?¡¯ A dry, disbelief laugh escaped her. "How did I never notice that before?" Estelle cringed, taking another step back. ¡®Fuck¡ªI need to change that.¡¯ Chapter 12: Stir Chapter 12: Stir An outlier among the perfection. The Transition Device¡ªthat ''looking-so-rpg-game-interactive-circle''¡ªmocked her from its place. Estelle stared, a groan catching in her throat as she scrutinized the element she had somehow missed during its creation. How could she, a self-proclaimed artist, have been so blind to such a glaring imperfection? Her arms folded, fingers pressed against her chin. ''So¡­ how do I start this?'' Her gaze dropped to the pristine white floor as her thoughts churned. ¡®Can¡¯t I rebuild it? The Transition Device uses the same technology as the Architect¡¯s ability¡ªor wait, is it even an ability? Don¡¯t they have a built-in warping device embedded in their mediums¡­ Same concept, though. With it, I could try; learn and remodel its appearance entirely.¡¯ Her eyes flicked to the passage ahead, her thoughts taking a sudden turn. ¡®And¡­ if I could do that, then it should also be possible for me to create a body. Not this weak, fleshy form, but something better. Stronger. A vessel fitting for an Architect. I could transfer myself into that,¡¯ she reasoned, nodding to herself as the idea solidified. She took a step forward before halting abruptly mid-step. ¡®Wait¡ªit might be better to check the Integrated Interface first. Oh right¡ªand that too, didn¡¯t I receive a direction from earlier to revalidate my status? I wonder what¡¯s that about too. Maybe some kind of authorization? Maybe¡ªwould they even recognize me as an Architect?¡¯ With unease coiling tighter around her, Estelle pivoted on her heel, turning to face the Integrated Interface Device nestled in the ground atrium. The scene greeting her was flawless¡ªso composed it seized her heart in an instant. Still, her feet carried her forward, threading through the corridor that led to the Trigon Sphere hall. Flanking pathways encircled the atrium, bordered by hidden strips of white light where the walls met the floor. The faint glow whispered of life long past, reflecting softly against the pristine white walls, their textured surface etched with memory. A faint smile tugged at her lips. The walls were lined with towering gates¡ªdoors felt far too modest a term for their sheer scale. These massive structures stretched from floor to ceiling, their size tempered only by their neighbors pressing close. Each was crowned with different styles written in the Langauge of the Architects, their names carved with glowing blue light across their surface. Unlike the simpler engravings that decorated the surrounding walls, these gates were sculpted masterpieces¡ªportraits of their creators, immortalized in a moment of creation. Estelle remembered those gates well. Their surfaces were sculpted to depict the beings who had constructed them¡ªfigures meant to symbolize the absolute authority each creator held within their domains. Yet, many of these forms defied comprehension. Some resembled monstrous tangles of tentacle-like limbs, grotesquely boneless and untangibly abstract. Others displayed intricate integrations of cybernetics¡ªor perhaps archonetics¡ªso seamlessly embedded into their bodies that it was difficult to discern where machine ended and creature began. In some cases, these augmentations dominated their forms entirely, as though their heads had been swallowed by their technology. The Architects¡¯ bodies¡ªwhether original or crafted mediums¡ªwere often deliberately inhuman, designed for ultimate efficiency. Except, of course, for those Estelle had adorned herself. Her gaze wandered down the line of gates, stopping at one on the far-right side. This one was different. Its surface bore the shape of a human-like figure, but no distinct features were visible. The being was cloaked beneath a massive, stone-like hood that jutted sharply from the gate, casting deep shadows over its form. Unlike the other gates, this one bore no symbols, no script crowning the frame to label its purpose or creator. It stood stark and anonymous, as though intentionally designed to defy identification. Everything about it felt deliberate¡ªnot an oversight, but a purposeful design choice. The gate¡¯s unadorned mystery seemed crafted to draw attention, perfectly aligning with the lore she had once envisioned. Estelle nodded to herself, satisfied, but her approval faltered when her eyes fell on a large gash scarring the sculpture. For a moment, confusion flickered in her mind, but clarity soon followed. The wound slashing cleanly across the figure¡¯s neck and into the frame seemed deliberate, as though some massive blade had hacked away a significant portion of the sculpture. This piece was laden with hidden meaning, capturing one of the darkest chapters in Architects¡¯ history. Yet, Estelle wondered if its message could truly reach those who observed it. The sight clouded her thoughts as she pressed forward. ¡®The Betrayer of the Architects¡­ and their name is¡­ who was it again?¡¯ she mused, her brow furrowing. ¡®Architect names are so hard to recall, especially in their language. They¡¯re not meant to be spoken, after all¡ªmore like signal waves than words. Still, I think his name was¡­¡¯ ¡°Esy2lymn,¡± she muttered, her native tongue slurring slightly as she wove the numeral into the name. ¡°The one who betrayed their Pattern for a measly god.¡± Estelle¡¯s expression darkened. She knew the fate of those who betrayed their kin: complete and utter annihilation of the self. Every memory, every voice, every signal¡ªevery fragment of meaning that once defined their existence¡ªwas erased. The punishment wasn¡¯t just death; it was erasure from the very fabric of the Architects'' world. ¡®For a civilized hivemind society¡ªone that values individuality while thriving on unity¡ªthis punishment feels strangely fitting,¡¯ Estelle thought. The Betrayer would know no return, no comprehension of their language, no reconnection to the collective. Their existence would dissolve into isolation¡ªa void irreparably severed from its kin. Estelle nodded, her thoughts wandering to the lost annals of Esy2lymn¡¯s violations. The details of their treachery, though etched into history, felt faint and fragmented in Estelle¡¯s mind. Esy2lymn¡¯s betrayal and the Architects'' darkest era lay buried deep within the world¡¯s history, shrouded by layers of complex clauses and forgotten narratives. It was impossible to fully grasp the scope of their conflict, their stories, or even the characters involved. Before she realized it, Estelle found herself standing at the edge of the atrium, flanked by two massive pillars that framed her view. The scene beyond was almost entirely obscured, save for the very center where the Integrated Interface Device appeared. Her heart pounded, the rhythmic pulse loud in her ears as her eyes scanned the space.Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere. The hexagonal tiled floor beneath was marred by an intricate web of black lines. On closer inspection, they weren¡¯t just lines¡ªthey were conduits or cables, snaking across the surface in chaotic tangles. The mess of connections seemed to converge at the center of the Sphere Hall, where the device rested. Her gaze dropped to her feet, where the ledge she stood on ended abruptly. The atrium floor split down the middle, leaving a gap between her path. Peering over the edge, Estelle observed the clean drop, no more than three feet. Taking a cautious step back, she gauged the distance. It was a safe leap. Steeling herself, she took a deep breath¡ªand jumped. Dry stomps echoed sharply beneath her feet, each impact reverberating through her limbs. Estelle paused, taking a deep breath as the last echoes faded into silence. A puff of white mist abruptly escaped her lips, capturing her attention as she realized it was cold. Much colder than the space she had been in moments ago. The chill felt familiar; it bit at her skin, close to freezing, but she didn''t mind. Folding her arms, she held herself close and pressed onward. The moment she stepped forward, something shifted. The lighting dimmed abruptly, as if the hidden bulbs had been dialed down to near darkness. Her footsteps rang out strangely, their sound hollow and warped, the reverberation unnaturally sharp in her ears. Her senses felt¡­ wrong. Lied to. She froze, glancing over her shoulder. The atrium¡¯s side paths had vanished, replaced by an expanse of endless dark. Estelle jolted, her breath catching as she spun around to face the void fully. ¡°Woah¡ªwhat is happening?¡± she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper. The scene felt familiar, though she couldn¡¯t place why. Her mind scrambled for answers, dredging up fragments of memory, but they slipped through her grasp like sand. She followed the horizon to where the paths should have continued, but there was nothing. No walls, no pillars¡ªjust an infinite, consuming void. It was as though the floor she stood on floated alone in a sea of nothingness. And yet, she felt no danger. Only an odd awe touching her lips. Her unease ebbed, replaced by a peculiar sense of wonder as her eyes crawled skyward. In the darkness above, something began to take shape. A faint dot of light appeared, like a distant star in the depths of midnight sky¡ªglowing faintly, untouchable yet close enough to sense its fragile existence. "Oh¡ª" a word emerging in Estelle''s mind with sudden clarity. Estelle¡¯s eyes wandered across the dark canvas, recognition growing within her. She remembered this. This particular element¡ªthis primal, alien touch she had deliberately added to the Architect¡¯s domain. She was still in the atrium, still on the ground floor, but the space had shifted. An invisible boundary encased the field, severing it from the outside world and immersing her in this otherworldly realm. Her gaze continued upward, drawn to the Nous Crux Sphere suspended above. Ever present and appearing like a bright star, it spun slowly on its axis, glowing with a luminous blue hue. Misty white swirled within its surface, blending with blue to form shifting borders of green where the two colors met. The massive sphere dwarfed her completely, its sheer scale overwhelming. It was breathtaking¡ªand holy. Her raison d''¨ºtre. Estelle¡¯s breath hitched, awe and disorientation intertwining in her chest. Dazed, her lips parted as if to speak, but no words came, until moments after¡ª ¡°I remember this place¡­¡¯ she finally whispered, her voice fragile and lost into the void. A wry smile curled her lips as she let the memories come. There were many peculiarities in this design. She had tested countless variations, experimenting and refining until exhaustion clawed at her resolve. Many attempts had failed¡ªiterations that challenged her skills and left her doubting her ability to realize her vision. Creativity had bled itself into her very living, consuming every waking moment with its relentless demand for perfection. But she had persevered. Two overlapping scenes in the same space¡ªone fully interactive, the other existing in partial harmony, each distinct yet unified. She had conceptualized it, built it, and fought through anguishing, haggard days to make it work¡ªand to perfect it. And now, standing within this grand sight, her efforts were vindicated. Before she could process it, something blurred her vision. Her left eye dimmed, as though a haze had settled over it¡ªlike a visual effect in slow motion. Then she felt it. A streak across her face. ¡®Oh¡ªa tear?¡¯ Her fingers brushed against her face instinctively, but the sensation wasn¡¯t what she expected. There was no warmth, no dampness, only a foreign texture¡ªsmooth and unnatural, like plastic or leather. Tears. Her thoughts faltered, the realization disarming her. Yet, a smile tugged at the edges of her lips, soft and bittersweet. She rubbed at her eyes, swiping at the droplets that blurred her view of her creation. But the tears wouldn¡¯t stop. She didn¡¯t understand. It wasn¡¯t like this was new to her. This was a scene she had seen countless times on a monitor, a vision that had played endlessly in her imaginations. A hiccup broke free from her throat, her body jolting with the sound. ¡°Hick¡ª¡± It felt surreal. She felt alive. And yet, it was all too dreamlike. Her head dipped, eyes falling to the ground as her hands wiped futilely at the tears that refused to cease. Then, something below caught her attention. The floor beneath her shifted, misty white clouds materializing out of thin air. They pulsed with a radiant glow, their light cascading outward to bathe the surroundings. The barren floor transformed, no longer stark and ancient but alive, as though she stood amidst the heavens themselves. Estelle¡¯s breath halted. Before she could fully comprehend the sight, a sudden flash of memory overtook her¡ªvivid and unbidden. The mist unraveled like delicate threads in passing winds, pulling her thoughts into its grasp. The stark hexagonal tiles beneath her feet began to shift, their sterile surfaces dissolving into an expanse of azure. Thin, delicate lines shimmered into view, barely perceptible as they moved like living veins. Alarmed by the abrupt transformation, Estelle took a cautious step back, her eyes widening as the scene revealed itself. The mist parted further, revealing what appeared to be a floating island suspended in the vast blue void. Slowly, it grew, its edges forming into a massive landmass that sprawled outward. Her heart thundered in her chest. ¡®No¡­ It can¡¯t be¡­ is this¡­?¡¯ The fragments continued to coalesce, countless pieces forming an intricate tapestry of interconnected islands and continents. Soon, the image sprawled beneath her feet: the vast map of the world of Astris hovered like illusions above the ancient stone. Estelle halted. The realization hit her with such force that tears welled in her eyes once more, but this time she made no effort to hold them back. Her jaw clenched, trembling with the intensity of her emotions, yet the tears fell freely¡ªunstoppable, undeniable. Each droplet splashes silently against the glowing world below, as though her grief and joy were merging with itself. Her thoughts swirled in a storm, ¡®I¡ªI have only seen this part of the World¡ªthe place where my favorite Architects lives. But what about the rest of it? What about all the parts of the World that I hold so dearly? What lies beyond the pieces I know?¡¯ Her body froze, her breathing ragged as she fought to steady herself. ¡®I want to see it.¡¯ Her gaze lifted, the familiar motivation in her heart spreading like wildfire. The impulsivity of her body, her friend, she knew so well. ¡®I want to see it all¡ªwith my own eyes.¡¯ The words echoed in her mind, carrying the weight of a thousand lifetimes. ¡®My creation. The Sword of God that became the center of civilization. The fading light of the last sun. The stars of hope that turned against the people. The borders where death itself looms. The farewell rites of the heroes. The first of the winds that birth the witch king. The ancient battlefields were gods once clashed. The First Golden Law of the Native Gods. The temples, the cults, the magic, the land, the people¡­¡¯ Her breath quivered. ¡°And my favorite character.¡± The words slipped from her lips, barely a whisper, but they held the power of an unyielding promise. Chapter 13: No justification Chapter 13: No justification Clarity seeped into her chaotic mind as the last of her tears dried, leaving faint, salty trails on her cheeks. Her throat ached with dryness, and her face felt uncomfortably sticky, a mix of sweat and tears clinging to her skin. Estelle inhaled a shaky breath, sniffled back the threat of escaping snot, and wiped her face with a gloved hand that trembled from exhaustion, the numbness barely abating. Between movements, her gaze dipped downward, catching the ground where the map of Astris still shimmered faintly above the tiled floor¡ªa mirage-like projection that seemed perpetually just out of reach. Her eyes traced the map¡¯s northern expanse, though her focus faltered midway. Instead, her attention snagged on the imposing structure of the Central Integrated Interface. Towering at the foot of the northern lands, its massive silhouette loomed, abruptly severing the mapped terrain beyond¡ªlands her eyes yet to explore, details she had yet to to be seen. ¡°Right¡­¡± she murmured, the word slipping out hollow, a fragment of thought shaping her fractured consciousness. But as her gaze lingered, something tugged at the edges of her memory, stirring faint recognition. ¡®Right¡ªdidn¡¯t I have something to do with that device? Account revalidation or something?¡¯ The thought felt misplaced, trivial even¡ªhardly deserving immediate attention. Or so she told herself, until her eyes landed on the blinking red dot on the translucent monitor. It had been flashing since she first noticed it, a silent beckoning that prickled at her curiosity. It felt urgent. Something she ought to investigate. Thinking twice, and thinking once more before nodding to herself. ¡®Later,¡¯ she decided, the thought firm but fleeting. ¡®Revalidate the account first. The rest can wait.¡¯ Her gaze dropped again to the holographic map beneath her as she moved onward. The map seemed alive with whispers of meaning, each glance unraveling a flood of thoughts. The lands it depicted told stories of what was and what could be, where pivotal moments in history had scarred the terrain, each marking its undeniable history. Many futures yet to unfold, clouding her mind with their fragments, and countless stories lay incomplete, always waiting to be written. A frustrated sigh escaped her tightly pressed lips, followed by a faint grumble. She shouldn¡¯t have allowed herself even a peek¡ªnot if she intended to ignore such intricacies in the first place. Her eyes watered slightly, a familiar ache of insatiable hunger gnawing at her. The map¡¯s layers of meaning demanded more than fleeting glances, its depths teasing slivers of revelation that only prolonged observation could uncover. Though she had seen this image countless times before¡ªetched into memory with nearly every progression and variations¡ªno matter how deeply she delved, her craving for detail remained unfulfilled. Curiosity was a relentless force, dragging her focus to every nuance the map revealed, as if her pen and thoughts were perpetually drawn to its ever-expanding significance. Yet, beyond her habitual need to uncover meaning, a distinct sense of understanding emerged¡ªan awareness of the present timeline. Her drifting eyes caught on a particular feature that hinted at the current date: to the west, amid a cluster of floating islands, her attention fixed on a lower base. Jagged ridges of barren stone were visible, though partially obscured by another island. The view was incomplete, but the location was unmistakable. Its relevance, its importance, all resonated in her mind¡ªa detail anchoring her firmly in the world¡¯s current chapter. Without realizing it, Estelle found herself drifting westward, drawn by an undebniable urge to steal a glimpse. The pull was persistent, relentless, and far from unfamiliar. Self-control was a concept that rarely brushed her thoughts, and even if it did, it was easily dismissed. A spring found its way into her step, and a wry grin stretched lazily across her lips. Each footfall echoed strangely, the sounds foreign and unrecognizable to her ears. This peculiar space felt detached from the world beyond, enigmatic and otherworldly. She tried to ignore the oddities, but the echoes seemingly stretched, weaving curious rhythms that teased her senses. Without thinking, her voice joined the symphony¡ªa lilting trill spilling from her lips. ¡°Ta-ta~lala~data~Mhmmmmn, nnn~!¡± As the hymns intertwined with the hollow echo of her steps, Estelle¡¯s hum faltered. Her gaze locked onto the island that had ensnared her attention¡ªits towering, mountainous peaks stretched long like a dragon¡¯s spine. Snow blanketed the ridges in a thick, pristine shroud, with glimpses of gray-black stone jutting through steep cliffs. A faint memory stirred at the edge of her consciousness, deepening the grin curving her lips. She slowed her pace, her eyes tracing the island¡¯s edges. Massive dams held back precious water, their structures supposed to be imposing yet they were fragmented in the hologram display. The projection, at knee level, rendered distant details indistinct. Beyond the faint outline of the dams, airship docks extended along the island¡¯s border, mere specks dissolving into indistinct pixels even when she squinted. The island¡¯s population came to mind¡ªit was sparse and scattered settlements across the island, and much of the nature was profoundly vibrant in green and untamed. The land¡¯s natural beauty reigned unchallenged. At its heart, the same mountains she had seen before, icy peaks that rose defiantly, earning the island its name: The Devil¡¯s rest¡ªor, as the locals called it, the Twin Breast. Estelle could never recall which name came first, nor did it truly matter. Ghost stories, pirates¡¯ tales, and relics of the soon-to-be-forgotten Haliaetus Kingdom drifted through her thoughts¡ªfragments of history, past and yet to come. Her gaze shifted again, drawn to another island emerging behind the first. She halted, steadying herself to take in the sight. Lower in elevation but far larger, the second island stretched across the horizon, its vast plains and towering mountains dwarfing Twin Breast Isle entirely. Estelle¡¯s heart quickened, her breath catching as its supposed enormity settled into her vision. If the great nations of the world¡ªspanning historical timelines¡ªwere to be ranked, there was no question: the Kingdom of Haliaetus would soar among her top five favorites. This island was the heart of Haliaetus, a civilization etched into the very bones of the world. Its legacy loomed immense, destined to shape the course of history through its rise and inevitable fall. A pivotal chapter in the annals of time, its forgotten songs, relics, fables, and traditions would echo through the ages. Proverbs born of its greatness would repeat themselves, reverberating across periods. The same great nation¡ªthe Haliaetus Kingdom¡ªstood as both a relic of the past and a force intertwined with the future.The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. A sharp exhale escaped her lips, cold and numbing as it spread across her senses. The sensation grounded her, though its grip felt strangely elusive. Her thoughts blanked momentarily, but an unbidden desire surged within her, forming into words that spilled from her mouth in a hushed whisper. ¡°Damn¡­ damn¡­ Damnit. I want to see it¡­ Their golden age¡ªand their fall.¡± She clicked her tongue, her gaze snapping back to the Central Integrated Interface at the atrium¡¯s center. A blinking red dot persisted on one of its translucent screens, an insistent glow that seemed to beckon her. It felt as though everything she sought lay there, waiting for her to answer its call. Estelle¡¯s lips tightened, and before she knew it, her feet moved on their own, drawn forward despite the pull of the map¡¯s lingering image. A thought surfaced, stark among the chaos of her mind and unbidden. ¡®The Haliaetus Kingdom still exists¡­ That means we¡¯ve passed the Ecliptic War of the Gods. That puts us somewhere between the 300s and 1200s, when the remnants of the Architects¡¯ artifacts were still abundant. The highlight of this period¡­ the Haliaetus Kingdom¡ªthe era of kings¡ªoh, fuck¡­¡¯ A flashed of memory surged, flickering vividly before her eyes and warping her sense of her surroundings. She gasped, her shallow breath came to a halt. ¡®Wait¡ªdidn¡¯t I set the campaign¡¯s timeline in the 800s? Does that mean¡­ it really is the 800s? Damn. Oh, fuck. If that¡¯s true, I don¡¯t have much time to explore everything at my leisure. Oh¡ªright, wasn¡¯t I working on something during the 800s too? What was it again?¡¯ Her thoughts spiraled, chasing clarity that fled away with every nearing reach. As irrelevant as these musings seemed to her immediate situation, she couldn¡¯t shake them. They felt too important to the world, like pieces of a puzzle she was desperate to assemble. Frustration bubbled to the surface, and she clicked her tongue in annoyance. Without realizing it, her hand moved to her chin in a pensive gesture, her feet pressing forward as if driven by a subconscious impatience. Her steps began to falter, growing sluggish. Her toes dragged to a halt, her body tilting slightly under the weight of her racing thoughts. Her gaze drifted upward, catching on the Nous Crux Sphere¡ªa brilliant blue orb shining amidst the void of space¡ªbefore returning to the floor beneath her. The image of the world presented above the tiles stretched out before her, unfurling like a gift. Its brilliance momentarily silenced the greedy, clattering noise of her thoughts, grounding her thoughts into immediate relevance. ¡°Well,¡± Estelle whispered, her breath forming misty white plumes in the cool air, the warmth brushing against her cheek. ¡°Fuck it, I suppose. I¡¯ll remember it eventually¡­ hopefully. The sights laid out on the map stirred her thoughts, which had nearly settled into clarity, only to sprout anew. A wide smile spread across her face, erasing the traces of confusion. ¡®Cameras, yes. Those are important too. I need to prepare cameras. Double¡ªno, quadruple¡ªthe copies. I want to record everything in the highest quality, stored on media that won¡¯t degrade. Every moment, every person entangled in this world¡¯s plight. It sounds impossible, but I¡¯ll definitely find a way.¡¯ Her excitement surged. She bit her lower lip, her fist trembling with barely restrained energy. ¡°Now that I¡¯m an Architect¡ªthe civilized race that supposedly reached the pinnacle of technological advancement¡ªthere must be a device or blueprints somewhere. Something that can capture images or video. And if not¡­¡± Her voice trailed off, thoughts racing. ¡®I¡¯ll just have to figure it out myself.¡¯ Her gaze drifted toward the atrium¡¯s center, as though expecting the vast space to answer her musings, as if it might align her desires back to her. ¡°I hope I can make a camera¡­ I hope I can record these events,¡± she murmured, half to herself, half to the void. For a moment, Estelle felt an overwhelming connection to the world she had created. It was intimate and intoxicating¡ªlike standing at the intersection of godhood and artistry. She was a creator, gazing at her flawed masterpiece¡ªa world stitched together by contradictions and brittle connection systems, fragile enough to shatter from the faintest touch of clarification. No grand justification, no ¡°rule of cool,¡± no ¡°act of realism¡± could truly defend many of her creative decisions. They had always been imperfect, and those imperfections gnawed at her sanity, amplifying the whispers in her mind¡ªthe ones that had nearly driven her to delete the world entirely. The memory brought a pang of guilt. Estelle shuddered, her lips tightening. She knew she hadn¡¯t been thinking clearly then. Twelve years of effort¡ªa world painstakingly built with her energy, time, and money¡ªalmost erased with a single click. Gone forever, irretrievable. Her body tensed, muscles coiling with the phantom weight of that near-fatal decision. Eyes shut tight, she murmured, ¡°A world on life support, riddled with imperfections¡­¡± Her lips quirked into a forced grin, a hollow attempt to dismiss the weight of her thoughts. A breathless giggle escaped her, tinged with bitterness. ¡®What a ridiculous thought, that phrase. Isn''t it strange to think this way?¡¯ She paused, drawing in a slow, steadying breath. Then another. Two. Three. Tranquility seeped into the chaos of her mind, bit by bit. By the tenth measured breath, her heartbeat had steadied, and Estelle opened her eyes¡ªopening them to the World she had created. Her everything. ¡°Isn¡¯t this fine as it is?¡± she murmured, her voice tender but trembling. ¡°It¡¯s not like this world is meant for anyone else. It¡¯s not public. It¡¯s mine. So¡­ isn¡¯t it fine, Estelle?¡± Familiar words. Familiar excuses. She had told herself this so many times before, each repetition digging deeper into the hollowness within her heart. Her mind reeled against the thoughts, disgusted at the idea of settling. Perhaps it was pride¡ªthe relentless voice of an artist demanding perfection¡ªthat made her recoil. And yet, another part of her, fractured and weary, whispered its acceptance. She tilted her head back to take it all in. ¡®Of course,¡¯ she mused. ¡®I designed it for the tall and bulky frames of the new Architects. Four to six meters tall, if I remember right.¡¯ The scale made sense, at least to the new variants, but it didn¡¯t make her current predicament any easier. Her eyes roamed over the station, assessing her options. The integrated Interface was massive, its height easily exceeding her reach, and its contents were inaccessible from her position. She traced the contours of the device upward, following the line of barely visible transparent monitors encircling it. The pusling red dot caught her attention, it unmistakably displayed on the translucent monitors. ¡®Well. There¡¯s no helping it,¡¯ she thought with a resigned sigh and placed the glass down next to her feet. ¡®I guess I¡¯ll have to climb¡¯ Steeling herself, Estelle bent her knees and sprang upward, her hands reaching for the metallic ledge. She caught it, the cold metal biting into her gloves as she tightened her grip. With effort, she hauled herself upward, her arms trembling slightly as she stabilized her position on the ledge. She hesitated there, peering cautiously over the edge before fully committing to climb further. Her gaze settled on the red-blinking monitor casting a faint glow against her skin. Turning her head toward it, she read the text that scrolled across its surface: [Primary power bank maintenance duration: 3 hours and 30 minutes.] Chapter 14: Revalidation Process Chapter 14: Revalidation Process ¡°Huh¡­¡± A bewildered mutter escaped Estelle¡¯s lips before she unconsciously added, ¡°Where have I seen this before?¡± Her words¡ªyet another phrase repeated countless times, reiterated with slight variations, showing no signs of stopping. Despite holding the confidence that her instincts were leading her towards something significant, her thoughts were clouded in useless musings and clarity eluded every reaching idea. She longed to pause, to take a moment to untangle the threads of her thoughts, but with how precarious her position was, it made reflection almost impossible. Her arms bore the entirety of her weight as she clung tightly to the wall, her fingers pressing into its smooth surface. Her feet scrambled for purchase against the slick material below, slipping with each desperate attempt to anchor herself. Shaking off her fixations on the translucent monitor , she shifted her focus to the station¡¯s layout. Though she prided herself on her artistry¡ªon shaping the world with her own hands¡ªthis place carried an eerie familiarity. Its functional design lacked the depth and soul of her grander creations. The elements seemed like afterthoughts, the kind of forgettable building blocks she might copy and paste to fill space. She studied the structure intently, her eyes tracing its protruding form, which seemed to function as the counter or workstation of the Integrated Station. Its surface was flatter than she expected, sloping upward only where it merged seamlessly with the back wall. Black panels of varying shapes dotted the surrounding white surface, their dark screens alive with geometric patterns and shifting lines of color. Light fractured and spilled outward from these shapes, coalescing into holographic monitors suspended in midair. Blue, green, and white hues outlined the edges where black met white, their glow hinting at distinct categories or purposes. The fragmented luminescence cast an otherworldly aura over the space, the interplay of light and color stirring a quiet unease in her chest. The design felt strange¡ªfamiliar yet distinctly different from the fragmented impressions she had gathered while interacting with the security gate terminal in the Hall of Sarcophagi. Had her memory betrayed her, twisting the details over time? Or had she been unconsciously comparing it with the memory of past integrated devices? Or was it simply that her mind had always been unreliable when it came to such things? Her gaze lingered on the integrated station, and a wry grin tugged at her lips. ¡°Damn, these aliens have RGBs? What in the world¡ª¡± she muttered, letting out a dry chuckle. The humor felt hollow, and an internal jab followed: ¡®Creativity is so dead.¡¯ Deja vu prickled at the back of her mind. The words felt oddly familiar, as if she had spoken that exact phrase before. She couldn¡¯t shake the certainty, though she dismissed it as her thoughts began to wander. Her gaze roamed the station unhurriedly, taking in its details. There wasn¡¯t much to see¡ªit resembled any desk or device station, apart from the black greebling patterns etched into its surface, giving it a distinctly sci-fi vibe. Her sights drifted downward to the hollow space beneath the workstation, its open space design seemingly tailored to accommodate whatever forms of the Architect¡¯s might take. There were no chairs, no pedestal¡ªno semblance of rest for whoever operated the device. It was just as she had expected from an environment like these. Then, something caught her wandering eye. Strange, familiar markings were embedded in black across the white floor. Squinting for a closer look, Estelle frowned as the markings stirred a flicker of recognition. A memory surfaced, answering the nagging question in the back of her mind. ¡®The Transition Device,¡¯ she realized, a wry smile curling her lips. ¡°Right¡ª¡± she began aloud, her voice tinged with resignation, as though finally coming to terms with a long-overlooked mistake. ¡°Right¡­ Shoot. I did that, didn¡¯t I? I forgot¡ªI copied and pasted the transition device here too, to suggest they could teleport in.¡¯ she let out a dry laugh, the memory growing clearer with each word. ¡°I know they have the ability to teleport, but those jumps aren¡¯t meant for long distances. So, they need a mix: using their in-built teleportation ability in conjunction with the device lets them bridge the gap, no matter the distance. And yeah, even if someone is already occupying the station, the device should¡ªI think¡ªjust rejects the other transition. That¡¯s right. Yeah, I remember now.¡± Her muttering faded as the memory settled into place, and she thought dryly, ¡®How convenient.¡¯ With a muffled grunt, Estelle hauled herself upward, hanging her leg firmly on the high divider. The solid thud of her boots echoed faintly as she paused, hovering almost horizontally. Her eyes darted across the workstation, calculating her next move. Deliberately, she extended her legs toward the desk¡¯s flat surface, tilting her weight inward. Her body rolled slightly as she maneuvered over the edge, her grip on the divider steadying her awkward transition. Awkwardly kneeling on the surface, she began her descent. Inch by inch, she slid down, her movements slow and deliberate. Her legs swayed, feet stretching instinctively as though seeking the reassurance of solid ground. Then, far sooner than she had anticipated, her feet touched down. ¡°Huh?¡± Estelle muttered, her brow furrowing as she glanced over her shoulder. The ground pressed against her legs¡ªsolid, yet closer than she remembered. Something had shifted. The station¡¯s interior had changed; the floor was raised, subtly yet unmistakably different from her prior memory. Releasing her grip on the divider, she felt her heels roll flat against the surface. The motion sent her slightly off balance, her body propelling backward. Her arms flailed instinctively, catching the edge of the flat desk behind her. Her legs scrambled, stabilizing her stance just as she regained her footing. ¡°Woah¡ªwhat¡¯s happening¡­?¡± she breathed, her voice trembling as her gaze darted down over her body. A strange lightness enveloped her. It was nothing like her past experiences with the transition device. Her limbs moved effortlessly, as though gravity¡¯s oppressive pull had loosened its grip. Strands of her hair floated into view, weaving and swelling around her face as if caught in an invisible current. The weightlessness was surreal, yet she could still feel a faint, grounding pressure tugging at her feet¡ªa subtle reassurance that she remained tethered to the ground. Her mouth widened in awe, a grin spreading across her face. ¡°So weird... What is happening? That¡¯s so weirdly cool. Wha¡ªt,¡± she stammered, her tone teetering between confusion and childlike wonder. Her hands reached out, testing the newfound freedom of motion. Shaking her head caused her hair to drift and twist in front of her eyes, obscuring her view. She laughed softly, marveling at the peculiar sensation. ¡®What¡¯s this? Why is this so fun?¡¯ She spun on one foot, shifting her focus to the long white gown trailing behind her. It moved freely, unburdened by gravity¡¯s usual weight, twirling with effortless grace. Estelle¡¯s grin widened, watching as the fabric spiraled like a dancer¡¯s costume on stage, fluid and flawless. Another spin¡ªthen again¡ªbefore a sudden chill raced down her spine, cutting through her exhilaration. She shuddered, wrapping her arms tightly around herself. ¡°So cold¡­¡± she muttered, her breath escaping in visible white puffs, curling faintly in the air before her lips. Instinctively, she tugged her gown closer, seeking a fleeting sense of warmth against the encroaching cold. Her long black hair, still floating weightlessly, drifted into her view, slapping against her facial skin. Annoyed, she reached up to gather the strands, her fingers fumbling slightly. As she worked, her gaze fell on her gloved hands. Her brow furrowed as a fleeting thought took hold. ¡®Does gravity affect objects here too? It should, right? Change of gravity should¡­ what was it again?¡¯ She paused, grasping for the term. ¡®Area-based? And everything within the area gets affected regardless? Like instancing¡­ Floating island, for instance¡­ Yeah, per se, per se.¡¯The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation. The scrambled thought dissipated as quickly as it had come, her attention flitting elsewhere. Tucking her hair beneath her gown with a quick motion, she muttered to herself, ¡°Anyway, back to what I need to do.¡± Her focus shifted to the holographic monitors hovering above the desk. As she studied them, she couldn¡¯t help but notice the peculiar variations in their displays. Most of it dominated in shades of blue, green, or gray, while others snapped nearly the entire color wheel. The arrangement seemed random, scattered around the circular desk of the station. Yet something about the panels struck her as strange. They were pale¡ªso pale that without a steady gaze, they nearly disappeared into the subdued backdrop. The faint colors blurred against the station¡¯s minimalistic design, their subtlety making them easy to miss. She was certain these elements held meaning¡ªwhy else would she have specifically designed these panels in the first place? Her past self must have deliberately created and placed them here; she was sure of it. After all, these were relics from an age when gods and Architects worked hand in hand, the very essence that the characters within the world of today¡ªand the future¡ªto touch the past, a past long forgotten by most. It held importance, Estelle knew and remembered the many stories; the many characters that will come across these integrated devices. Yet, as much as she yearned to unravel the intentions behind her past actions, a red, blinking pulse drew her attention. Her eyes shifted to the panel. [Primary power bank maintenance duration: 3 hours and 27 minutes.] ¡°Oh¡ª¡± Estelle gasped. The words slowly seeped into her mind, a flicker of recognition clawing its way out from the depths of her memory. ¡°This¡ªwait, isn¡¯t this the same thing I heard when I woke up? Yeah¡ªdefinitely it is. I see.¡± She nodded, the pieces falling into place as she stepped closer to the display. ¡°So¡­ Is it just regular maintenance, or did something happen to trigger it?¡± she murmured, her eyes scanning the screen for answers. Most of the monitors were static; displaying only information they were supposed to display¡ªdata streams without any clear inputs or outputs for interaction. Frowning, Estelle let instinct guide her. She reached out tentatively, her fingers hovering just below the blinking dot, below where the timer was found counting down. The motion felt familiar, like muscle memory resurfacing. ¡®It should work the same way, right? Not just the terminal, but these¡­ uh, what are they called again? Display monitors?¡¯ she mused silently, her thoughts tried to chase the perfect term before giving up. Sinking her fingers into the holographic monitor, Estelle¡¯s eyes caught a sudden, dramatic shift in the display. From the point of contact, the monitor¡¯s backdrop flared into a brilliant, pulsating red, as though the color was bleeding directly from her hand. Startled, she yanked her fingers away, her other hand colliding with a sharp slap that left a dull, throbbing ache. But despite her retreat, the monitor responded further. A golden-yellow mark materialized where her fingers had been¡ªa near-perfect circle, as if the device were tracing their outline. The animation unfurled with an almost organic fluidity. Luminous waves radiated outward from the golden mark, their ripples cascading toward the edges of the hologram. Upon reaching the borders, the frame ignited with the same radiant golden hue. Each successive wave intensified the glow, drawing her focus deeper into the display. Estelle¡¯s gaze felt locked, almost hypnotized, as though the very space between her and the monitor had ruptured, making it impossible to look away. ¡®What is happening?¡¯ she wondered, snapping her head sharply in a frantic motion. Her eyes darted across the desk, noticing the absence of other holographic monitors. They had vanished, their presence subsumed into the growing brilliance of the central display. Even the maintenance countdown had disappeared, seemingly assimilated into the pulsating glow. Her attention snapped back as movement caught her eye in the top-right corner of the monitor. A line of text emerged against the red canvas, its characters glowing with the same golden motif that now framed the display. The style was unmistakably that of the Architect¡¯s language. Yet, this version seemed more robust, more rigid¡ªlike a default template compared to the intricate designs she had encountered before. The text didn¡¯t stop with a single line. It continued to flow, extending downward, each segment materiazining in sync with a faint pulse of light. With growing curiosity, Estelle leaned closer and began to read. [---] PRP: C/UserAccount/AICP/Ent.to Revalidation in progress.

INITIATING REVALIDATION PROCESS

> User_Account/Estelle_Nytelles/?/ The Architect Authority System has detected a discontinuity in your operational state. As the Original Pattern, your presence is critical for the restoration of balance across all dimensions and matrices. Identity verification confirms Administrator-class neural complexity and consciousness alignment. However, flagged misalignment and dormant systems require immediate action to re-establish full functionality. [---] A sharp breath slipped through Estelle¡¯s nose, the air cold yet grounding. The sensation traveled down her neck, coiling tightly in her chest before she exhaled, warmth unfurling across her lips. For a brief moment, the world narrowed to the subtle rhythms of her body¡ªa stark contrast to the intense focus she maintained on the words before her. The juxtaposition was almost jarring, as though her body resisted the stillness her concentration demanded. Before she realized it, her fingers had drifted to her chin, tracing idle patterns along its curves, her thumb moving aimlessly beneath. One, two more strokes, and a low hum escaped her as her thoughts began to solidify. ¡®As much as the implication aligns with the original lore¡­ and stuff¡­ I don¡¯t think I made this one. Certainly, it doesn¡¯t feel out of place¡ªdoes the world just correct its mistakes? Patch its holes? Or something?¡¯ Her musings were abruptly interrupted by the continuing movement of the text. This time, the lines stretched further and scrolled faster. She frowned, doubting she could keep pace with its speed. [---] Initiating¡­ Initiation halted. Nous Crux Pattern report received. > Nous_Crux/Report/1c12m323409sdf4.log [18:04_221231.211] Admin Sarcophagus hall has detected awakening: Account_Estelle_Nystelles consciousness activity detected. [18:17_221231.211] Admin Sarcophagus hall initiated an awakening protocol. Furthermore, requesting power and processing cores for the awakening procedure [---] ¡°Oh¡­ this¡ª¡± Estelle¡¯s budding thoughts were the first to break her concentration this time. Unlike before, she was now certain her past self wouldn¡¯t have designed such intricate details. Her mind latched onto the mechanical underpinnings¡ªspecifically whatever device or module had been tracking her movements since she awoke. Perhaps every motion within the structure was being recorded, though only snippets made it into the device¡¯s reports for the sake of brevity. The purpose of this particular feature, however, remained a mystery. Even so, a vague sense of understanding emerged, a glimmer of logic in the design. Estelle nodded to herself. ¡®I see. Then, I wonder how long it¡¯s been recording. Oh, wait¡ªrecording? How is it recording? Just signals? Does it have a camera? Can those signals be reconstructed into a 3D render in hologram? I really need to check that out later. If that¡¯s possible, imagine getting one that can record kilometers of distance¡ªevery person, every action, everything. But the storage¡­¡¯ Her thoughts spiraled, calculating. ¡®A five-minute video at 2K and 60fps could take gigabytes of storage. And then there¡¯s the power to maintain it¡­¡¯ She couldn¡¯t help but start a mental checklist of possibilities and challenges, knowing full well she¡¯d forget most of it within moments. As her musings continued, she finally noticed the line of text had come to an abrupt halt at the very bottom of the display. It must have ended while she was lost in her thoughts. She leaned forward, preparing to pick up where she left off, when a flicker of light at the edge of her vision caught her attention. A pulsating circular shape blinked in the same golden palette, standing out against the multitude of geometric shapes occupying the black screens on the desk. It pulsed once more before releasing a beam of light along its line, transforming into a dazzling circular pyramid¡ªor perhaps an hourglass. The light sprawled outward from its focal point, creating a new holographic object just beneath the red screen. The new projection was a half-oblate shape, rendered with the same golden color. Its surface was simple and unadorned, lacking the intricate designs or engravings Estelle had come to expect from Architect creations. Intrigued, Estelle hummed softly, her curiosity piqued. Her gaze shifted back to the red text, her thoughts steadying. It was clear to her now¡ªher answers to what had appeared, lay within the words displayed before her. [---] [19:10_221231.211] Security gate of Admin-Sarcophagus hall reported consciousness signature identification of Account_Estelle_Nytelles. Log report: Account_Estelle_Nytelles access matrix dormant, requesting autonomous protocol revalidation of administrator class. [19:10_221231.211] Account_Estelle_Nytelles has manually override access authority of Security gate of Admin-Sarcophagus hall-A001 [19:10_221231.211] Nous Crux Pattern has detected movement in Hallway-H001. Estelle_Nytelles original body detected. Initiating adjustments for biological utilization. Log file ended. Proceeding preferred biological adjustment for Account_Estelle Nytelles. Initiating Revalidation process. To proceed: Estelle Nytelles must maintain connection with the Nous Crux Pattern peering system. ¡ª Chapter 15: Creators Mark Chapter 15: Creator¡¯s mark ? ¡ª ¡°Estelle Nytelles must maintain connection with the Nous Crux¡­ Pattern¡­ Peering System¡­ Huh,¡± Estelle murmured, her voice slurred, each word dragged down by the weight lingering on her lips Her gaze drifted, unfocused, scanning for something¡ªanything¡ªthat might offer explanation. It finally settled on the oblate shape of golden light hovering beneath the display. The holographic figure dominated the space, with no other devices present to suggest what the text might be referencing. Without realizing it, her hand slipped beneath her chin, fingers tracing aimless patterns along her skin as her arms folded across her chest. Her thoughts, unusually still yet piercingly clear, felt unfamiliar¡ªas though they had emerged from a mind not quite her own. She was certain she had never created these details before¡ªespecially the recordings in the log. The embedded log within the display seemed strikingly modern, closely resembling the inner-workings of coding rather than the sci-fi aesthetic she was expecting. However, putting her attention to detail aside, there was a much more pressing issue than text spacing and styles. It was undeniable that she had heard about account revalidation, yet she had never truly entertained that idea¡ªshe was uncertain why. It must have been her attention that had always been elsewhere. Yet now, standing in this place, before this desk, and seeing the words that tied her name to an administrative role, it was only now that she recognized the full weight of the situation. She drew a deep breath, trying to summon what she could remember of the Architect¡¯s lore¡ªparticularly the legends surrounding the so-called administrators. None of it was new to her, of course. If anything, she was supposed to be more familiar with these stories than with her own creations. After all, the administrators were central to the world¡¯s historical progress and pivotal moments¡ªfigures who had profoundly shaped both the present and the future. And yet, the details slipped away with every trying reach. It was understandable, she reasoned. Their sagas had faded into obscurity, and the last remaining Architect had ended with the end of the Ecliptic War. Their history was mostly written, complete, and there was no need for Estelle to revisit it without purpose or reason. She had left it alone for many months without delving further. Estelle''s gaze shifted from the desk to the distant horizon, her thoughts drifting beyond the veil shrouding the atrium. Mindlessly, she thought she might catch a glimpse of the many portraits engraved into the gates of an administrator''s private domains¡ªperhaps to remember the official details of these administrators. But there was nothing. Only the vast emptiness. Or perhaps not. A single point of light appeared in the void, distant yet bright, flaring briefly before vanishing. A star. The view portrayed the stars in space, something that was unfamiliar to this world, but not to the Architects. Estelle knew that. Her eyes lingered, following the place where the floor dropped away into nothingness, the veil pressing heavily against the void beyond. A low groan escaped her lips as she abandoned her attempts to recall the sagas or histories tied with the administrators. None of it seemed to hold the answers she was seeking¡ªif she even knew what those answers were. A smile, faint and unbidden, tugged at her lips. The implications of the golden text sprawled across the red display filled her thoughts, unspooling into half-formed fantasies. To what she might become¡ªto what she might do? Her heart pounded loudly in her chest, an erratic rhythm that echoed her swelling anticipation. She stretched her hands forward, her trembling fingers sinking into the oblate hologram. A heavy, alien viscosity immediately clung to her gloves¡ªa cold, slithering substance that crept between her fingers and up to her wrists. Estelle froze, her breath catching as a frown deepened across her features. The sensation crept further, a slow, unyielding advance that sent a chill spiraling down her spine. Her fingers felt consciously numb, encased in cold tendrils of something she couldn''t see, so alive and invasive that it clouded her thoughts, as if something were moving beneath her long sleeves. She shook her head sharply, an attempt to banish the unsettling imagery taking root in her mind. Yet, even as she fought the rising discomfort, something flickered at the edge of her vision. Her eyes darted toward the red monitor. The display had changed. The sprawling text was gone, replaced by four floating cubes, their sharp edges glowing a vivid green against the blood-red backdrop. The sight tugged faintly at her memory, stirring a half-formed recollection¡ªso close, yet frustratingly elusive. For a moment, she stared, her uncertainty thick in the silence. Then one of the cubes exploded, shattering into fragments of glowing debris. The pieces hovered before another cube followed suit, detonating with the same mesmerizing finality. Its animation continued, deconstructing and reconstructing in a timed rhythm. A flicker of recognition sparked in her mind. ¡®A loading screen,¡¯ she thought, her inner voice tinged with faint disbelief. ¡®Like the one from earlier.¡¯ Another cycle began. As the second cube shattered once more, the holographic monitor flickered violently, abruptly transitioning¡ªa cascade of text began to pour down the screen¡ªline after line scrolling rapidly in an unreadable torrent. Golden letters, written in the Architects'' language, illuminated the display. Estelle leaned closer, her curiosity piqued as she murmured the words aloud. ¡°Let¡¯s see¡­ Let¡¯s see¡­ Connectivity handshake confirmed. Alert: Foreign synthetic material detected ¡ª Classification: WBQ60v. Impedance metrics exceed acceptable operational thresholds¡­¡± She paused, tilting her head as her brows knitted together. ¡°Hmm. Hard to read¡­ but that doesn¡¯t sound good, does it?¡± Despite the foreboding message, one thing became apparent: Whatever she was doing¡ªor had done¡ªwas correct. Her fingers unconsciously curled into a fist, only to halt midway as if an invisible force gripped her hand, preventing her from fully clenching.Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on. Steeling herself, Estelle glanced quickly at her hand, expecting to see something¡ªa change, a clue¡ªbut it remained exactly as it had been moments before. Still, the sensation was undeniable. Something was there. Something was holding her. A chill ran down her spine, a faint tremor in her shoulders betraying her unease. She turned her attention back to the display, her eyes darting across the text, resuming where she had left off. Yet her focus snagged on the first line: Connectivity handshake confirmed. ¡°Yikes,¡± she muttered, shivering. The corners of her lips pulled tight in a grimace, her thoughts spiraling deeper into discomfort. ¡°Stop, Estelle,¡± she scolded herself silently, her voice sharp in her mind. ¡°Just stop it. Whatever this is¡ªit¡¯s not one of those¡­ those tentacles that do¡­ questionable things. Absolutely not.¡± As she was about to resume, a flicker of movement to her left caught her eye. Her gaze darted downward, where a new hologram materialized beside the golden oblate. The projection began transforming into a 3D render of the integrated station, fitting with varying shades of green and deeper hues. At its center, a blue-rendered figure stood¡ªclearly herself¡ªwith her hands reaching toward the golden light. But something was wrong. Her hands were highlighted in red, a color too jarring to be part of the scene''s design. Yet, it sent a hint that it demanded her attention. Simultaneously with the hologram''s completion, an arrow materialized, pointing directly at the red-tinted areas. Its tail stretched to the side, unfurling a small window dense with text and unfamiliar illustrations. Estelle''s intuition whispered an understanding: the red highlight might relate to her gloves or skin¡ªperhaps composed of the material the main display was referencing. The sheer colume of text overwhelmed her. ¡°Later,¡± she murmured, sighing. Her focus returned to the larger display, forcing herself to finish what she had started. Estelle''s eyes continued scrolling until she found the familiar line [Acceptable operational threshold], and she continued, muttering, "So... uh, thresh. Thresholds. System functionality: interrupted. Recommendation: Immediately remove material WBQ60v to restore full scanning protocol or permit rapid dematerialization of WBQ60v material." The word dematerialization was the last thing Estelle wanted to see, especially if it had anything to do with the Architects. She tried to pull her fingers away, but the invisible force held her arm immovable. A chilling imagination prickled at her mind, stealing her breath in a sharp gasp. Panic swelled as she yanked harder, desperate to free herself. Only then did the grip relent, releasing her fingers with an almost spiteful slowness. Her hands immediately clasped together, trembling as she inspected them for damage, half-expecting something to be missing. She let out a low grumble, muttering under her breath, "Let''s be careful, and never forget¡ª''safetiness'' doesn''t exist in their dictionary, Estelle. Especially you." Absentmindedly cracking her knuckles, the sharp pops brought a fleeting moment of focus. Her gaze inevitably drifted back to the small display. Something had changed¡ªbeyond the live-rendering of her movements, the red markings now covered both hands up to her arms. ''A good sign, lovely,'' Estelle thought. ''It''s not my skin that''s being referred to¡ªWait, can this material even be possible to have as a skin? Perhaps I''ll check that later when I make my own body...'' She leaned forward, her gaze narrowing on the small display filled with dense text, symbols and intricate illustrations filling the spaces to the sides like some kind of documentation. The overwhelming amount of text felt blurry to her gaze, the entire passage felt unnecessarily long, as though it could have been distilled into just a few sentences. With her patience wearing thin, Estelle couldn''t force herself to focus, instead letting her eyes flow to the end of the passage¡ªskimming whatever the details were there, but understood absolutely none. Jargon, she half-expected. Estelle traced the lines back to the beginning, attempting to understand the text, yet her mind continued to skim restlessly. She found herself nodding, soft moans escaping her lips as if the words were communicating directly with her understanding. When her eyes caught the illustrations on the far side of the text, she discerned the molecular structures of Material WB60v, prompting an audible gasp of wonder. "Ohhh~Damn. I see, I didn''t make this¡­ But damn, I like that," Estelle commented, her hand unconsciously massaging her chin. ¡®I want to take note of this¡­I definitely want to read more as to why it''s interfering with the connection.¡¯ She began removing a glove, tugging first at her fingertips. A strange numbness spread across her skin as the cold air slipped between fabric and flesh. The white coat against her skin felt like shedding an old layer, revealing something new and untouched. Estelle shivered uncontrollably, yet continued pulling off her glove. A movement behind her hands caught her attention¡ªthe rendering screen. She spotted the red marks mimicking her actions in real time. Amused, she nodded, "Cool, cool." As the glove slid free, the small display with the live rendering vanished completely. A strange tingling lingered on her skin, more apparent with each passing wind cold air. Despite the chill becoming almost unbearable¡ªwhite puffs forming beneath her nose and her limbs trembling¡ªEstelle continued, pondering aloud: "I wonder if this will do." She considered placing her now-glove-free hand back on the oblate hologram, but remembering the previous events, she frowned. Massaging her hands¡ªcold, yet still intact¡ªan undeniable instinct whispered in her ears. She clenched both hands, drawing a sharp breath of cold air and encouraging herself, "It''s just a hand¡­ just a hand¡­ There are ways to grow it back¡­ I know¡­ We know." Her teeth ground loudly beneath her lip. Finally, she attempted to free her hand, still trembling as she moved to touch the oblate hologram. But something on her hand halted her movement¡ªseveral black markings, like tattoos, resembling the scribbles she had seen on the floor and walls before. ''Huh,'' Estelle wondered as fragments of memory materialized. She weaved her hand before her, examining it from every angle¡ªtracing where thin lines merged and circles connected. The markings seemed randomly placed, like scattered ink on her skin. ''I definitely had¡ªoh. Right, creator''s mark.'' She continued observing her hand, staring as if memory would spontaneously materialize. Even when she forced herself to recall details, only fragments of creating this avatar and its specific abilities surfaced. Estelle grumbled, ''I don''t think I made any powerful abilities. These marks¡ªsix of them¡ªmight be part of the six gods from the year two-thousand religion. The major six, and their ideology based on the meaning of the marks, if I remember correctly.'' Nodding, she felt the explanation fitting. Recalling fragments of those religions, Estelle continued, ''Foundation... stasis... Uh, what else... I can''t remember. I''ll definitely think about it later... I''ll definitely remember some... but let''s do it later.'' Convincing herself, she pulled her hands and placed them into the oblate hologram shape, noticing she was calmer than before. Just like before, something invisible immediately hugged her arms. It squirmed like a living creature, cold tendrils wrapping and climbing up her skin. Estelle shivered involuntarily, trying to ignore the unsettling sensation of this strangeness. Without warning, a flicker of movement caught her eye, drawing her attention to new changes on the display. [---] REVALIDATION SEQUENCE INITIATED Entity: Estelle Nytelles-AC-A001 [Administrator Class: Original Pattern] [---] Chapter 16: Creators mark [2] Chapter 16: Creator¡¯s mark? [2] Pale crimson light pulsed across the display, each flicker revealing new streams of text in an endless cascade. The repetition became so frequent that Estelle lost count¡ªor perhaps she was too captivated to track the iterations. The cryptic language flowing before her was a visual symphony, beautiful in its incomprehensibility, drawing her deeper into its strangeness. Her eyes traced each sequence mindlessly, reminiscent of those old hacker movies from her world, where their stylized user interfaces were designed more for dramatic effect than realism. A wry grin tugged at her lips as her thoughts wandered. ¡®First comes phase one, then the second means phase two¡­ Really breaking new ground there, genius.¡¯ ''Phase one: Pattern Synchronization,'' she mused. ''Whatever that means¡ªthough I suppose it makes sense... makes sense.'' She nodded, as if to convince herself. As she continued reading, something unexpected caught her eye¡ªa golden mote of light hovering between her face and the display, glowing radiantly before fading into nothing. Estelle''s breath caught in confusion as another appeared behind the monitor, barely visible through the sharp borders of the holographic screen. She whipped her head around, straining to catch any new details emerging in the shifting scene. Her eyes widened in surprise as the world around her transformed. Beyond the integrated station, where the Map of Astris had been displayed on the floor, now stretched a void filled with golden motes of light¡ªlike familiar stars scattered across the depths of space. ¡°Woah,¡± Estelle exhaled sharply, suddenly aware of the cold air she had forgotten to breathe. ¡°Damn¡­ I have no idea what¡¯s happening, but it looks so cool¡ªso holy and majestic¡ª¡± her words trailed into a silent plea: ¡®so please continue,¡¯ as her eyes sparked with artistic inspiration. Rising onto her toes, Estelle tried to peer over the high walls that blocked her view. But everywhere she looked, she saw the same vista¡ªan endless void populated only by drifting golden motes. She wasn''t sure what she had expected to find, but her searching gaze and grinning lips betrayed her curiosity. Without warning, the surrounding brightness dimmed, drawing her eyes instinctively upward. The Nous Crux Pattern Sphere dominated the view above, massive and overwhelming;. Its sheer presence was overwhelming, yet Estelle couldn¡¯t shake the unsettling realization that she had entirely forgotten it until this moment. Another gasp escaped her as she noticed the changes¡ªwhile its basic form remained as she remembered, the massive sphere now pulsated in a steady rhythm, expanding before contracting for a brief rest, only to begin the cycle anew. But the most striking transformation was its color: the once-bright blue had shifted to brilliant gold, and where green and white had been, now shone varying shades of golden yellow and pure white. ''Woah¡ªdamn,'' the words tumbled from her mouth. She knew it was just a change in color, yet there was something captivating about seeing it in this new light¡ªthe stark difference from its usual appearance lending it an unexpected beauty. ''What does that mean?'' she pondered. A flicker of movement caught her peripheral vision, drawing her attention back to the holographic display. As she studied it, searching for changes, she slowly realized the frantic flickering had ceased, settling into a clear, readable list of text. [---] PHASE 1: PATTERN SYNCHRONIZATION Detailed report available: Access Code #PS001
PHASE 2: AUTHORITY MATRIX INTEGRATION Detailed report available: Access Code #AM002
PHASE 3: SYSTEM RESTORATION AND UPDATE Detailed report available: Access Code #SR003Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.
REVALIDATION COMPLETE FINAL DIRECTIVE: The system remains partially destabilized. Recommend immediate intervention to resolve flagged misalignments and ensure full dimensional restoration. Please oversee the following major alerts: Engage with the Astral Reintegration Node for manual adjustments. Conduct diagnostic sweeps of flagged Creation Sub-Matrix elements. Revisit dormant Architect systems to finalize stabilization. [---] Her eyes traced the text, skipping past the barely readable characters¡ªones she had created but never used¡ªand glossing over unfamiliar terminology that hadn''t been part of her worldbuilding. The gates, however, she recognized instantly. She continued reading until she reached the final line: ''WELCOME BACK, ARCHITECT ESTELLE NYTELLES. YOUR CREATION AWAITS YOUR COMMAND.'' "Huh?" Estelle drew a sharp breath, confusion mixing with surprise. Her eyes narrowed as she muttered, "That''s it? No special effects or anything?" She straightened, scanning the display for additional details. But the text had indeed ended there, concluding with nothing more than a simple greeting about her administrative role. It felt underwhelming, especially given how animated most Architect creations were¡ªsurely her revalidation deserved something grander. A wry grin crossed her features. ''Well, this is odd. I expected music, or pattern wave signals, or cryptic poetry, or even holographic messages from another Architect giving a proper welcome. It''s so lackluster¡ªfor the Architects to not care about someone ascending to their role in their society, something that happens maybe once in thousands of years. Well, not exactly an ascension since I''m already admin-class, but still. Revalidation, you know? Shouldn''t there be some ceremony? Some celebration of resuming duties? No? Just me? So many ways this scene could have been elevated to match its significance.'' A grumble vibrated in Estelle''s throat. As it did, something changed against her bare hands¡ªlike plastic film adhering to her skin, then peeling away. Cold air rushed to meet her exposed flesh as the invisible force slid from her arms to her elbows before vanishing from her fingertips. Though she watched the slow transition, nothing changed visually except for the golden oblates disappearing in time with the retreating sensation. "Huh..." Another dumbfounded noise escaped her as she examined her hand. No matter how she turned it, nothing had changed. The sight before her matched exactly what she remembered. Another wave of disappointment washed over her, though she wasn''t certain what she had expected. Some strange upgrade perhaps, or new markings¡ªsomething cool, at least in her imagination. But thinking back to the Architects'' lore, such additions wouldn''t fit; they would be foreign elements if anything. The Creator''s mark, however, remained prominent on her skin¡ªlines, circles, and various shapes interweaving across her hands. Estelle pondered, ''How do I use this? Just chant? These marks are like magic circles¡ªquick-cast buttons, if I remember right. So chanting their names works like activation keys for magic... Damn... Now that I think about it, magic actually exists here¡ªI mean, of course it does. I created a world of floating islands; how could I forget that detail?'' Estelle stretched her hands forward, fingers splayed and palms open. ''The first one... What was it again? It''s supposed to be... uh, fouiel?'' Her head snapped back as she realized how badly she had mangled the Architect''s language. ''What in the world? Veroy and Architect¡ªthat was horrible. Anyway¡ª'' She shook her head, forcing herself to focus. ''The first one is supposed to be...'' Her thoughts stalled, but her mouth moved of its own accord: "Foundation." The word echoed into the void, met only with silence. Nothing appeared, nothing changed despite her command. Estelle cringed, teeth grinding as she clenched her hands. ''Fuck¡ªI guess that wasn''t it? Wonder what the correct one is then?'' Still clutching her hands, she turned them over, checking for any changes¡ªthough she felt certain there were none, she couldn''t help but verify twice. Movement caught her eye¡ªthe red display at her desk had dissolved, replaced by the previous screens that had vanished earlier. Among them, the maintenance countdown timer demanded the most attention. "Hmm," she pondered, her gaze shifting between her bare hands and the numerous displays lining the flat desk. She grumbled¡ªboth options were equally amazing, and the urge to explore each was just as strong. But the terminal, the displays... they held more immediate importance to her situation. ''Since I can''t remember the words for the Creator''s mark, I should focus on the terminal,'' she reasoned. ''Need to check if there''s food, or power issues, or anything else wrong. Check the cameras too. And I want to create a medium so I can finally visit the realm of mortals. There should be a portal terminal somewhere¡ªthere has to be if I want to work remotely and send pictures. So many things I don''t know how to do yet, but need to figure out somehow...'' Though her mind had settled on a course of action, her heart lingered on her hands. There was a distinct difference between operating machines to do amazing things and wielding powers that could make a person fly or conjure fire from nothing. Countless possibilities lay within these marks¡ªor at least, that''s what Estelle wanted to believe. Even if each mark held different powers, much different from the worldly magic¡ªwhich she knew instinctively they did¡ªshe should be capable of wielding magic. She grasped for the lore¡ªthe reason she should be able to use magic¡ªbut the specific details slipped away as always. Something about gods and magic, and the body of man, but beyond that, uncertainty clouded her memory. She clenched her hand tight, then released it as if casting away her heart''s desires. Finally, she pulled on her gloves, physically stashing those thoughts away completely. Estelle''s gaze swept over the flat desk, the glowing shapes within the black panels revealing nothing new. Her eyes darted between holographic monitors until she spotted a familiar one glowing pale blue. She pivoted on her heel, eager to close the distance¡ªbut a memory suddenly flashed before her eyes. Past declarations and proposals surfaced unbidden, causing her steps to slow as she tried to grasp this emerging thought, to give it solid form. ''Ah¡ªright, now I remember. It all makes sense now,'' Estelle remarked, snapping her fingers as soft footfalls echoed rarely through the space. ''I have only updated the terminal on the Integrated Stations¡ªthat''s why the sub-terminal interfaces near the gates and the filaments are so different... No wonder I was so confused... I simply misremembered.'' She came to a stop before the blue holographic terminal, her mind still racing with understanding. ''It''s all coming back now. Last month, I was inspired by a game mod to create concept art of the Architects¡ªalive and thriving, interacting with their technology in these very bases. I never finished that piece, though... it was so long ago. And this week¡ª'' she paused, collecting her thoughts, ''I wanted to design a creature and place it in the Architects'' main realm. After all, I was planning to make the Architects the focus of my new world... something completely separate from Astris.'' Chapter 17: Technicalities [0] Chapter 17: Technicalities [0] Estelle took a deep breath. "Right..." she murmured, focusing on the terminal before her. Unlike the filaments of the sub-terminal from the Admin Sarcophagus hall''s security gate, this interface featured five distinct components arranged in an X formation¡ªone in each corner with one in the center. She had meticulously designed these menus and fonts to align with the Architects'' theme, each carrying unique symbols and styles with carefully chosen fonts. Every element held specific meaning within the architects'' world and their functions. Yet, as always, the deeper significance behind her creation had grown hazy in her mind. She couldn''t help but notice how criminally similar the terminal was to its inspiration. While her holographic display differed from the mod''s physical layout, she had compressed the original mod''s ten menus into five. The original arrangement had seemed impractical, especially from an Architect society''s perspective. Estelle had designed both the concept art and detailed functionality even before the mod''s arrival. Though she had only drawn loose previously until this reimagined design, the parallels were unmistakable. A familiar guilt gnawed at her¡ªthat persistent feeling of theft, despite all her excuses. A low growl caught in her throat as her breathing hitched. "What are they going to do, sue me? File a copyright claim? The mods are usually creative commons anyway..." She sighed. "Still doesn''t help... Let''s not think about it¡ªit''s not like it hasn''t happened before." After two steadying breaths, she forced her attention back to the display. There was more to verify, she reminded herself. She tapped the centerpiece menu, its title displayed in stark text: Matrix Synthesis. The holographic display burst into motion. The centerpiece dimmed as the top menus slid sideways and the lower ones sank from view. The central panel shifted to a deeper blue, framed by crisp cyan lines that emphasized its image. Estelle''s soft gasp caught in her throat. "Yeah... This too. I don''t think I''ve made¡ªoh wait... damn." Her thoughts scattered as forgotten memories crystallized. The darkened centerpiece transformed into a large window display, revealing a perfect circular shape in the middle. A faded ring encased it, its faint colors linking to smaller boxes and other geometric shapes arranged along its circumference. Tab-like interfaces crowned the top border, displaying various icons and text. Estelle''s face contorted as a wave of embarrassment washed over her. Groaning, her gaze drifted to the newly appeared window below, which she remembered: it provided access to every storage location throughout the station. This comprehensive view, topped with additional tabs, maintained the same pale blue tint as the flanking panels. "Shit!" Estelle cursed, her teeth grinding as heated breath fueled her anger. "Tsk! Tsk!" Her eyes snapped shut as she massaged the bridge of her nose. "Why did I do this? Why did I make this?" she began, taking long, measured breaths. "I know I''m terrible at making UIs¡ªI always have been. Why didn''t I just commission someone instead of creating this shitty-ass design?" She pinched harder at the bridge of her nose, feeling the ache bore deeper beneath her fingers until her strength gave out and her hand fell away. With a heavy sigh, she opened her eyes to face the creation she wished she had never made. Her gaze fixed on the holographic monitor¡ªher eyes narrowing as if that alone could transform what she saw. The design appeared far too modern, mimicking her own world''s technology rather than achieving the alien, futuristic aesthetic she had aimed for in the Architects'' Design Langauge. Estelle couldn''t fathom why she had allowed this element to be installed¡ªit looked like an unfinished concept, barely past the initial drafting stage. Another pinch, another sigh. "Should have..." she murmured, words heavy on her weary lips, "I should have finished it, or never placed it here. I wonder if I can still change it¡ªI definitely want to change it..." As her thoughts spiraled, her hands drifted to the bottom display, where gray boxes filled with various item images spread across the screen. She recognized them all¡ªspheres in brilliant blue, cubes that appeared like iron or silver, and coiled wires stretching across in the frames¡ªthese images. A clear thought emerged from the chaos, spilling from her lips. "Huh? Images? Wait¡ªthere''s pictures? Huh..." Estelle swiped upward, and the monitor responded instantly¡ªtwenty rows flew past in a blur, only stopping when there was nothing left to show. She jerked back, struck by a sudden realization. "Oh¡ªit''s the same... Why? This doesn''t make any sense¡ªwhy is it behaving like some kind of touchscreen? I''m not even sure what alien scrolling would be like... But this? I don¡¯t like it¡ªIt''s so weird." A heavy, tired sigh grated her throat. "Well... whatever. I don''t care. It''s a lost cause¡ªlet''s move on." If there was an option to trash this element entirely, Estelle would have done so without hesitation. But neither could tools of godly creation manifest from thin air, nor could her piercing glare force any change. She clicked her tongue, berating her past self¡ªthe one who never thought beyond mere ''coolness.'' Another click, and her eyes returned to the main display. "But it should... work... if it works as I think it would." Guided by fragmented memories and her worldbuilder''s intuition, Estelle brought her fingers to the main display with unexpected certainty. "I drew out how the functions should work¡ªstep by step appearances. If it matches the concept draft, then it should... work." She positioned her left finger and began writing with her right index: [Status report regarding biological nutrient consumption. Compile reports for farming, energy, and device functionality.] She ended her writing by lifting her hands from the display. Like before, the written text in the Architect''s language began to stretch, its lines wavering as if liquefying, dissolving like ink in clear water. Estelle observed distantly, her mind already racing with new ideas, barely registering the familiar transitions on screen. The background circles faded, replaced by four cycling cubes in their usual animation. After a few seconds, the screen flickered as expected, promising a transition to the report display¡ªbut neither report nor new interface materialized. "Huh?" Estelle startled, her head jerking back. "What¡ª" Her breathing shortened, heated with frustration as her eyes scanned the displays. The research panel to her right remained unchanged¡ªat least compared to her initial memory of it. A property-tool panel clung to the left side, filled with alternating white and black lines like a spreadsheet table. Meanwhile, the main space, stretching from center to right, remained stubbornly blank. The whole thing screamed ''drawing software'' at first glance¡ªand Estelle couldn''t deny it. That had been intentional, after all. The intentions behind her design choices had faded beyond reach, leaving only the hollow recognition that they were deliberate. Estelle rolled her eyes, growing more convinced with each passing second that the device was either malfunctioning or worse¡ªdesigned for appearance only, without function. That was her greatest doubting fear for this world¡ªall surface, an empty husk of design.If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. Moving rightward, she encountered more display panels cluttered in chaotic arrangements of boxes and shapes fitted together haphazardly. What caught her attention was the sudden shift in the backdrop¡ªvarious colored rays projecting the holographic monitors. Realizing she had extended beyond the main terminal, Estelle snapped her head left, finding similarly arranged displays. The leftward interface was crowded with knobs, sliders, value adjusters, property curve-editors, and small displays showing pixelated numbers, each element sporting its own aesthetic color scheme. Among these panels, one caught her eye¡ªa table-like display similar to the one in the research monitor section. Estelle darted her gaze between them to confirm her observation. "Hmm," her thoughtful hum transformed into a low groan as she noticed the subtle difference¡ªthe left panel brimmed with text while its right counterpart sat empty. Leaning closer, she studied the barely comprehensible text. "This... should be the processing... basically like a task manager for all the devices..." Her eyes drifted to the top border, where a semi-circle rose above the display, encircling the words [Nexus Protocol Module]¡ªa name that served only as a label, devoid of deeper meaning. Estelle grumbled, "I think so..." She spoke absently, trying to recall her concept illustrations, but the images eluded her. "I really think so, I mean¡ªin the mod... Hmm, in the mod, there was also the task manager window that changes priority in crafting, or shows active states and warns about missing materials. All queue tasks are visible on that window." "Yeah. I think so..." she murmured, verifying her assumption. "It should be¡ªthe other one is supposed to be the research queue, if I remember right..." Glancing between the research monitor and her foggy memories of the mod, the similarities were undeniable¡ªminus the aesthetic differences. She nodded to herself, turning her attention back to the task manager¡ªthe Nexus Protocol Module¡ªto check if her task was processing or if some fault needed fixing. Estelle hovered her fingers above the screen, methodically scanning its contents. The interface mirrored a classic task manager: tables filled the right side, their contents shifting and resorting by the second, while tabs lined the left. With deliberate motion, she scrolled up. The interface responded¡ªand then a flicker caught her eye. Among the row of tabs, an icon pulsed with alternating brightness, its golden backdrop impossible to miss. The tab read [Report], and she stood dumbfounded before gasping, "Oh, so that''s where you were." She tapped the report tab without hesitation, transforming the right side instantly. Several long white rectangles appeared, each encasing lines of thick, bold text. Estelle huffed a sigh, unable to ignore how closely it resembled a modern email interface. The list entries were marked with circular brackets containing various classification terms: [Report], [Status], [Station], and other variants. Estelle''s eyes landed on the topmost entry¡ªpresumably the most recent, just like her previous world''s interface. Seeing "Report Request" as the first marker confirmed her assumption. She read on: (Report Request) [Consolidated Status Report: Biological Resources & Infrastructure || Req: ID-AC-A001 (E. Nytelles) || Analysis: Core-OS1] Estelle hummed, relief releasing the tension across her body. Tapping the report, a new holographic display materialized beneath her fingers, prompting her to withdraw them for a better view. The display''s strange shape caught her attention¡ªborderless, with a strong blue hue backdrop contrasting sharply against the translucent monitor behind it, guiding her eyes exactly where they needed to go. To her relief, the text in the reports was perfectly readable, unlike the garbled documentation before. [---] BIOPROCESSING RESOURCES & INFASTRACTURE REPORT

Biological Systems Division

Date: 221231.211 (TRIGON STATION Time) Priority: Standard Systems Analyst: PITO-HI1 HYDROPONICS SECTION Operational Status: Limited Function Active Units: 3/12 Status Note: Nine cultivation bays remain in standby mode. Power allocation reduced to maintenance levels only. PROTEIN SYNTHESIS FACILITY Operational Status: Limited Function Critical Note: Excess production diverted to Bio-Energy Processing. Current configuration allows for 0.7 kg daily reserve allocation (unmarked in primary logs). ENERGY SYSTEMS Bio-Reactor Status: Limited Operation RESOURCE ALLOCATION ANALYSIS Current Configuration: Automated Maintenance Mode [---] The cold sliced through her skin, forcing a shiver from her body and a sharp exhale from her lips. Estelle hugged herself tight, hands moving frantically against her arms, but her attention remained locked on the display as pieces clicked into place. "Food shouldn''t be an issue then, if I''m reading this right..." she mused, tilting her head. "Though what''s this Bovine Pattern-C? Regular beef maybe? Or something else entirely¡ªI should probably check that." The thought commanded her attention, yet her eyes snagged on peculiarities within the text. The Architect''s script was familiar enough¡ªshe could read it well¡ªbut additional elements caught her eye: fine lines threading alongside words, dots marking beginnings and ends. These meant something crucial, she was certain. Some systematic element of their language tickled the back of her mind, years of worldbuilding notes mocking constantly out of reach. The placement seemed deliberate for a mistake¡ª"Hydroponics section," "active units," "current efficiency"¡ªeach term carried these extra markings. Like italics, she thought, or bold text... or maybe hyperlinks, though that felt wrong somehow. Her fingers drifted toward the display, drawn to test her theory. At her touch on "Bovine-C," movement sparked in her peripheral vision. Her head snapped toward the main terminal, watching as its display shifted and changed. Chapter 18: Technicalities Chapter 18: Technicalities [1] The skin stretched taut across muscle and bone, its subtle valleys and ridges catching light in ways both familiar and alien. Tiny pores dotted the surface like perfect circular craters against the pale expanse, while beneath the nearly translucent membrane, a blue vein pulsed with life. All this was captured in a clinical thumbnail within the interface. Though severed from its host, the specimen showed no signs of trauma¡ªno seeping blood or mottled bruising marred its sterile presentation. Whatever had processed it for the database had rendered the grotesque almost mundane. Estelle hummed thoughtfully as she studied the aberration. "Huh... So that''s what it did." Her eyes flicked to the [Nexus Protocol Manager], where the bioprocessing status report still glowed ''So, that''s what it did,'' she repeated silently, her attention drawn once again to the animated flesh on the screen. ¡®But it''s not quite right¡ªNot what I''m trying to remember. Similar process, maybe, but... different feature? Why did I add these modifications in the first place?'' As her thoughts spiraled in a frustrating loop, yielding little more than a futile effort to recall, her attention returned to the main terminal. Behind the specimen image¡ªlabeled Bovine-C¡ªthree lines now extended where there had been only one before. These lines reached toward a glowing blue circle; two were faint and dim, while the third glowed a similar blue. Within the circle sat six boxes, their shapes altered from what she remembered. Previously empty, they now brimmed with detailed, rendered images. The rendered image revealed what appeared to be a glass chamber: a circular metallic base supporting a massive tube filled with blue-tinted liquid. Harsh lights blazed from the base, illuminating suspended tentacles of flesh that hung motionless like cuts in a butcher''s window. Five of the images were muted and dark, but one glowed, indicating its active state. The chamber was sealed by a lid that mirrored its base in shape, while panels of interactive holographic displays and physical controls lined the circular frame. Near the glowing blue circle, text hovered: [protein synthesis factory.] Estelle voiced a muffled yet thoughtful hum of understanding. Though her attention flitted restlessly, intuition suggested the main display was showcasing protein meat production. Six factories were shown, one active¡ªmatching the report. Studying the meat''s color and shape pointed to beef, but certainty eluded her; this was the domain of the Architects, an alien race far advanced beyond her time. For all she knew, this could be some unknown alien meat she had never encountered in her previous world. Strangely, there were no obvious indicators of production rates or storage levels¡ªmetrics that should have been front and center for a manufacturing terminal, at least according to Estelle''s scattered designer instincts. Her eyes wandered searchingly until they caught a list in the top right corner¡ªone she was certain hadn''t been there when she''d first looked. "Oh," she breathed, comprehension dawned as she read. It was a visibility display list: a series of nodes arranged like markdown text. The first line read [display mode: manufacturing blueprint], now grayed out and appeared intuitively unresponsive. Below it, several colored lines controlled visibility for production numbers queue, power consumption, request patches, storage assignment, and the list continued. Their vibrant state indicated they weren''t currently active in the display. "I see," she muttered absently. She skimmed the other two main nodes, but their contents seemed short, or hidden¡ªlikely inaccessible until she switched to them. Second node read: [Fabrication mode: Manufacturing blueprint], with the last showing [Recipe Mode: Blueprint Manufacturing]. "Damn, I fucking gamefied the living shit out of this display," she muttered with a cringe. "Previous months must have been rough." Her attention shifted to the storage monitor below the main terminal, where rows of items with their thumbnails stretched across the screen. There was no denying it¡ªthe entire interface screamed "video game UI." She sighed, flicking the display upward as if to punish it, but it only responded smoothly to her touch, scrolling up before hitting the top with a soft stop. "Huh..." Estelle murmured, frowning as she scrolled through the display. "That''s a bit¡ªsmall. Let''s see... five by tens... so.... 30... 50... 80... 120... 140... 145...147? Wait, is this correct?" She tilted her head, continuing her mumbled calculations. "That''s strange... Why only 147 items? Did some storage module in the station not register? OH¡ªWAIT. OHHH!" The realization hit her suddenly, drawing out a gasp as memory clicked into place. Her fist met her palm with a soft smack. "Right¡ªI did that... I didn''t want a story where some character accidentally waltzed into the architect''s realm... and then became an overlord of this tech... gaining power, amassing numbers by making drones... so..." Her words trailed off as her hands absently found their way to her chin, massaging thoughtfully. ''So... In the last war of the Gods, during the Ecliptic War... The last Architect deleted all the blueprints¡ªall the data, used up every resource in this realm, destroyed the facilities in the mortal realm... And also... the station is slowly descending into the star¡­ Why? A narrative. A narrative that would happen in... the 2000s... The period when the protagonist is born¡ªthe year when the sleeping Gods, almost forgotten by the many, finally wake up. And she would... eventually reach this ship, and steal the ''last'' Nous Crux Pattern to aid her time ability¡­ Protagonist¡­ My favorite character¡­'' Her hands stilled, eyes drawn to the flesh-meat image, yet her focus lay elsewhere, lost in the implications of her thoughts. It felt surreal¡ªthinking about it, she was ordinarily a human, one with an unhealthy obsession for creating worlds, a hyperfixated mind fabricating realities that didn''t exist. Now she stood within this world, her actions carrying weight that could alter the many narrative she had written. Her influence had become tangible, permanent without the availability of her worldbuilding software. Estelle curled her fingers into a fist, taking deep breaths to process the gravity of her situation. An Architect¡ªher¡ªremained alive in this world, in a timeline bereft of the Gods'' protection. She managed a dry smile. ''There was a reason why I didn''t... want the Architects to remain alive after the Ecliptic War,'' and grumbled aloud, "From here on, the Age of Man will rule the lands of Gods... That... was supposed to be." Minutes passed as Estelle resumed massaging her chin, pressing her lips into a thoughtful grimace. Finally, she came to a conclusion, sighing heavily. ''No point dwelling on it¡ªwe''re so far in the past... The future is distant... Best to just be careful around our protagonist''s bloodline ancestors, and if we can stabilize the situation here, gain more resources, maybe we can recreate another facility, rebuild the Nous Crux Pattern for our protagonist''s narrative... Or something... I''m not quite sure, so let''s not overthink it.''Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. A weary sigh escaped her lips as she glanced at the research monitor to her right. ''And there''s that too... No need to worry excessively... For now, at least... Let''s check the maintenance report.'' With that thought, Estelle turned to her left, where holographic knobs, sliders, and various complicated buttons floated in the air. Her focus drifted to the [Nexus Protocol Module], partially obscured by the [Biological Resources & Infrastructure] window. Her eyes searched for the familiar close button, darting between the edges where the contrasted backdrop suddenly fell away¡ªand she jolted when she realized there wasn''t one. Her eyes twitched and lips twisted. While she''d never considered herself an interface expert, she hadn''t expected to struggle this much. "Yes... Aliens..." she grumbled aloud. "Aliens. Make it more alien per se, and then get angry when it doesn''t make any sense¡ªaliens per se. Genius, great job, Estelle." Sarcasm escaped in a single breath as her fingers reached for the report¡ªgestures sinking into the display; swipes, circles, and various scribbles wherever her fingers weaved. ¡°Its¡­not working¡­¡± She hummed absently, watching as her fingers entered and left the display, white lines fading in their wake, clearly indicating the system wasn''t recognizing them. Yet she persisted, repeating circles and triangles until she suddenly halted with a faint gasp. ''Oh.'' A memory flashed before her eyes¡ªthe protagonist in 3D form, her long gray hair floating in the green-tinted environment, standing here, in this very spot, far in the future. Estelle remembered writing that moment: how the protagonist tried every gesture, attempting every possible combination¡ªuntil¡ªshe drew a particular symbol. Without thinking, Estelle traced those future actions, writing atop the word [PITO-HI1]. Starting from the top, she drew an arch shaped like a wide ''G'', its ending tail dipping down the center like a 6, but continuing further like a ''P''. Before she could lift her fingers from the display, Estelle recalled the next lines of the scene. The protagonist crying, begging into the ancient display with desperate words: ''Make it work! Please! Make it work! I will do anything! Just please respond!'' It was a scene meant for the far future, but somehow¡ªwhether for development or growth¡ªa pang of guilt pierced Estelle''s heart, yet an inexplicable smile spread across her lips. The details crystallized in her mind: the spaceship''s imminent plunge into the star, sobbing echoes mixing with the station''s alert sirens, the trembling of metal being torn apart¡ªthe moment when everything was about to collapse. Estelle found herself gasping, smiling despite herself. ''I want to see that... I want to see that moment... That was supposed to be the reveal of her character, when everything goes astray and pushes her to her limits. The weakness the protagonist tried so hard to hide. A breaking point.'' "Ha... Ahaha," laughter bubbled from her lips as the memory faded, returning her to the present. "I want to see it¡ªI want to record her expressions. I wanted to create that scene in animation, but of course, time is never on my side. What was the protagonist¡¯s name again? I know she¡¯s part¡­ " Her thoughts still lingered on the memories as she absentmindedly lifted her fingers from the display, reaching to touch her stretching grin. In that instant, her drawn symbol caught her eye¡ªflashing bright white before dissipating just as quickly. Estelle muttered, surprised, "Huh?" Before her mind could catch up, the display transformed. Another shade of darker green bloomed atop the [bioprocessing status report], architect letters fading into the dark canvas, slowly forming words¡ªcountless words that filled the space in moments. She hadn''t expected such a dense window, complete with illustrations of circular nodes connecting like tree branches, titles beneath, numbers, and symbols both half-familiar and alien. Estelle''s eyes blurred immediately. Like before, the new window lacked borders to encase its document-like contents, but the colored backdrop behind the letters provided enough contrast to follow. The abrupt ending of text at the bottom edge hinted at far more content lurking beyond the display''s limits. Her cheeks twitched unconsciously. ''Yeah. No. No way I''m reading all that.'' Despite her reluctance, Estelle''s eyes remained locked on the display, trying to at least understand its purpose. The window''s title stood boldly at the top, its font both italic and thick: [Predictive Information and Technology Overseer (PITO-HI1)] "Oh, right... I remember now," Estelle''s mutter barely escaped her heavy lips. "I did this... I made this one in particular because... The Architects base their communications through signals, and much of those signals carry information that can''t be fully translated into text... Well, at least before this one... What''s this called again?" Estelle hummed, pondering as she brought her fingers near the dark green window and flicked downward, watching thousands of words scroll past. "Ah¡ª" she continued suddenly, "yeah, right¡ªcontextual hyperglossing¡ªbasically like linear glossing but it brings up a window. Fuccckkk. Right." A smile slowly stretched across her lips. "Rightt¡ª" she repeated. As the display scrolled, the blur of passing words crystallized into focus. ¡®Architects can send their signals¡ªthey can send information but the text would rapidly fill into something unreadable¡ªthough, of course, they would just need to receive it back through signals... but still... you know, presentation, formatting of text are important as well. So having a main page, and then having context behind each word¡ªsince different architects have different understanding with other objects, having this could ground them... And those who need it can still view it.¡¯ Her eyes caught on the names, their structure making them nearly impossible to sound out even in her mind. Yet they revealed the creators of PITO-HI1, its core fundamentals, and its specializations. Estelle''s grin widened as she declared, "Fuckk. Right... Damnn. I fucking love it. Right, I am so genius indeed." She brought her fingers near the dark green window and flicked downward. Estelle hummed thoughtfully as she observed the display. Heading-like documents with cryptic descriptive text sprawled before her, accompanied by illustrations scattered across the interface¡ªsome to the left, others to the right, many centered. Each image stood distinct: semi-waves, red temperature mappings, sonar readings. Though their meaning never registered, Estelle found herself nodding as words flowed out nonchalantly, "I see. I see. I see. This looks like an encyclopedia of some sort, huh." Despite her eyes tracking the images, her mind wandered elsewhere. She recalled the protagonist''s gestures¡ªand the mistake. Estelle groaned, her words slurring. "It''s... supposed to close¡ªnot open... Now that we think about it, didn''t she open something and get stuck on that window and unable to go back... And cried a lot... kekeke." A laugh crept into her voice. ''I suppose it only makes sense. I mean, if things like these don''t exist, then it''s alien to them. So... their interactions should be like an old person struggling with new generation devices. Funny, that.'' Estelle smiled, stretching her hands toward the display to draw another symbol. In one fluid gesture, without lifting her hand, she drew a circle from the top, arching at the bottom then meeting back at the top before drawing a line through the center, splitting it in two. ''This should be the correct one¡ªwhy did I remember something so incorrect?'' She lifted her fingers from the display. The window responded instantly, its size collapsing and shrinking in its center. ''Yep,'' Estelle nodded. ''Let''s see the other ones too.''