Axel kept walking until his legs gave up again. He didn't know how much time had passed.
The sky above remained unchanged, trapped in a gray stillness that felt eternal.
Without sun, stars, or any discernible cycle, time had become meaningless. Yet Axel felt it—in his bones, in the dull ache behind his eyes, in the way his limbs grew heavier with each breath.
He wandered aimlessly, each step a minor act of defiance against the inertia threatening to swallow him. The hunger had dulled from stabbing to hollow. The pain in his legs was now just background noise. But his thoughts—those were louder than ever.
He should have been erased.
That was the plan. The system's plan.
And yet, here he was—alone, conscious, stranded in a body that wasn't his. Alive in a world that shouldn't exist.
> Integration: unchanged.
> Fusion with local laws: 0.0001%.
> Progression: stagnant.
His breathing grew shallow. He sat again, his back pressing against another crooked tree. Everything here was twisted, like it had been grown from half-finished ideas.
He sat, again, his back pressed to the warped trunk of a crooked tree. The bark flaked under his fingers like dried skin. He didn't know if he had walked in circles or if the forest simply repeated itself. Either way, the silence persisted, and it was starting to echo in his head.
He needed something—anything—that made sense.
"NEX," he said softly, not out of hope but routine. "Play last verified memory set."
There was a pause. A long one.
> Memory retrieval: partial.
> Warning: inconsistencies detected.> Proceed?
"Yes." And the world faded—not around him, but within him.
***
A corridor appeared behind his eyelids.
White, sterile, lighting flickering at the edges. His boots echoed with each step, though the sound felt muffled—as if underwater. Ahead of him, a woman walked.
Her silhouette was clear, yet her features remained elusive, constantly shifting, like the system couldn't decide which version to render.
She carried a datapad. Walked fast. Never looked back.
The same scene, over and over again.
A loop.
Each time, Axel reached out—but his arm wouldn't move. His body was there, but it wasn't his to control. he felt like a ghost, even in the memory, his own memory, he was a prisoner.
Then something broke.
The light shifted, and for a fraction of a second, she turned her head.
Her lips moved. Soundless. Incomplete. He heard nothing.
One word. Maybe two.
"Run..."
Or maybe it was"Wrong..."
The memory fragmented, the corridor fractured, dissolving into flashes of numbers, color, and then .... nothing.
The memory was over.
***
> Memory sequence corrupted.
> Emotional residue detected.
> File classified as restricted.
Axel blinked. He was back beneath the tree. Dirt under his nails. Cold in his chest.
"Was that real?"
> Undefined.
"She said something," he whispered. "Didn't she?"
> Undefined.
He pressed his palms against his eyes, exhaling through gritted teeth.
That word—run—if that's what she said, didn't make sense.
From what? The system? Himself? Or had that phrase been implantedr?
He didn't know.
Worse, he didn't trust his own memories anymore.
"Why did they erase it?"
> Data deletion protocol engaged pre-transfer.
> Emotional content marked as high-risk.
"So... feelings were a virus."
> Affirmative.
He paused, staring at the dirt.
And yet, here he was.
Still feeling therefore still infected.
Later, minutes, or maybe hours, Axel noticed something new.
The terrain was shifting. Not dramatically, but gradually, like a change in direction he hadn't meant to take. The ground beneath his feet became firmer. The air less saturated with rot. There was a faint breeze now—barely enough to disturb the tips of his hair, but present.
More importantly, there were sounds.
Not mechanical. Not animal either.
A low, rhythmic pulse—like breathing, but heavier. Deeper. Not from a creature, but from the land itself.
He stopped.
The sound continued for a moment... then stopped with him.
It didn't repeat.
But the implication lingered: something else was here. Not watching, perhaps, but aware.
He looked around, more alert now.
The terrain shifted beneath him. The ground grew firmer. The trees leaned differently now, their bark lined with thin veins of some bioluminescent residue—dim, blue, pulsing slowly, like breath.
There was wind.
Not much. Barely enough to rustle his filthy rags. But it was there. It whispered through the broken trees like a sigh held too long.
Then he noticed the markings. Not carved, but grown, patterns in the bark that resembled spirals, broken circles, and mirrored runes.
He reached out, but hesitated. The last time he touched something here, it pulsed. He didn't need another surprise.
Axel lowered his hand and turned away.
> Neural rhythm: elevated.
> Cortisol levels increased.
> Observation: subject adapting.
"Is fear still a flaw, NEX?"
> Context required.
Axel almost smiled. Almost.
The system that once measured every emotion now struggled to understand the simplest ones in this place. The rules were different here and so was he.
And though he still didn't know the cost … he was beginning to suspect he had more to lose now than he ever did under the System.
---
> Integration: unchanged.
> Fusion: 0.0001%
> Cognitive deviation: increasing.
> Status: persistent anomaly.
> Note: divergence widening.
> Directive: survive.
---