Maybe...

Ryoji paused for a moment, the noise of the city outside his hotel window seemed to grow distant, almost muffled. Maya's message had shaken him. Nevada. But even more worrying was the idea that the 128-bit system, which Maya had mentioned, was the only way to stop what was happening.

The 128-bit was not just an advanced security protocol: it was a powerful computational network that, if manipulated correctly, could restore temporal stability. A rare and incredibly powerful technology, initially designed to protect the most sensitive data, but one with the potential to fix the distortions now plaguing the temporal flow. But it wasn't easy to use, and not everyone knew of its existence.

Ryoji thought back to the conversation with Maya. "If we want to stop this madness, we need to get to the heart of the system," she had told him. "The 128-bit is the key. But the problem isn't just accessing it. Once inside, you'll need to stabilize the temporal connections, or the distortion will continue to spread."

There was also another aspect that Maya hadn't told him: the 128-bit was so powerful that, if used incorrectly, it could cause a definitive collapse of the temporal system. His stabilization not only had to stop the Architects, but it also had to restore the normal flow of time on a global scale.

"It has to be perfect," Ryoji thought, crossing his hands. "I can't afford mistakes."

At that moment, he heard another notification sound on his computer. The screen lit up in red, followed by an alert message that made Ryoji's heart tighten: "Epoch system under attack. Response time critically reduced."

The message confirmed his worst fear: the Architects had already taken control of multiple temporal systems and were accelerating the destruction. It wasn't just the present that was becoming unstable, but the future itself was beginning to waver. Every second that passed brought the world closer to the edge. He had to do something, and fast.

Ryoji stopped thinking and moved into action. He hurriedly closed the laptop and set off toward the station. Nevada. The heart of temporal power. His final destination. He knew it would be dangerous, but he had no choice.

The temporal storm about to break would have repercussions across the entire world. The very concept of time was about to suffer a permanent deviation. And Ryoji, with his connection to the Epoch system and the 128-bit technology, was the only one who could stop it.

When he arrived at the station, the scene before him was surreal. People were walking in slow motion, as if they were walking through quicksand. The very atmosphere seemed distorted, as if the light itself was bending under the weight of a clock that could no longer do its job.

The trains were stopped. The signal lights that should have changed from green to red were frozen halfway, as though time itself had been stuck.

Ryoji hurried onto one of the few trains that seemed still operational, even though it was delayed. The journey to Nevada, the beating heart of temporal distortion, had just begun.

Nevada, a few days later.

When Ryoji arrived in the Nevada desert, the atmosphere had completely changed. The sand had a reddish hue, and the air itself felt thick with a sense of unease, as if time itself was teetering on the edge.

The Architects' base was hidden among the dunes, an underground structure that no one, except those inside, truly knew about.

Maya had warned him: "The 128-bit network is protected by an almost impenetrable defense system. But if you're really able to interface with the Epoch system like the legends say, you might be able to get to the heart of their domain."

Ryoji had no doubt: this was not just about hacking the system. That was their field, but to stop the temporal distortion, he would have to enter unknown territory, where even the laws of physics were being tested.

After finding the secret entrance to the base, Ryoji found himself in front of a futuristic control room, walls lined with screens and advanced technologies. At the center stood a terminal with the symbol representing the 128-bit: a circle intersected by diagonal lines, a code representing the stability of every bit of information and, in fact, of time itself.

Ryoji approached the terminal and quickly began typing, feeling the weight of responsibility on him. Every command he entered seemed to bring him closer to the heart of the distortion. When he finally gained access to the system, a series of encrypted codes appeared on the screen.

"This is the moment," Ryoji murmured, staring at the sequence. "If I can fix these errors... I might be able to stop it."

He focused. The key was in the 128-bit: using its power to restore the global temporal network. With a trembling hand, he pressed the enter key.

Suddenly, the monitor flashed blindingly bright. Ryoji stepped back for a moment, fearing the worst. The world outside the control room was still slowing down, but he couldn't afford to falter now.

Then, slowly, the terminal began to recover. The lines of code running across the screen seemed to realign, correct themselves, as if the scars in the temporal flow were healing. Each bit of information, every microsecond of instability, was falling back into place. The Epoch system was stabilizing.

The future, perhaps, now had a chance.