The Forgotten Don’t Forget
(POV: Unknown)
It watches.
From beneath cracked floors and walls veined with ancient circuitry, It watches the group of students wander the halls. Their footsteps ripple through the dust, triggering long-dormant protocols—security checks, biological scans, soul readings.
Only one catches Its interest.
The boy.
Not the fire-blooded heir or the elemental glitch. Not the beastkin or the flora-borne girl. Just Max Joules, the one who moves like a placeholder—a character the universe forgot to flesh out.
But the universe was wrong.
The boy carries a signature. A mark that should not exist. It is a mark older than the Merge, older than the first human war, older even than the first dream of life.
The signature of a System that was never meant to awaken.
(POV: Max Joules)
Max sneezed.
"Bless you," Rei muttered, though her eyes never left the twitching, half-alive wall they were passing. The organic-metal surface breathed, pulsing faintly, as though the entire ruin was inhaling the group's scent.
"Why does the floor taste like copper?" Kain whispered.
Arthur, leading the group, ignored the question. His spear hummed softly, tracing molten runes along the walls as a passive ward against traps. But even Arthur—crowned prince, elemental prodigy, all-around golden boy—looked… off.
This wasn't a normal ruin.
This place knew them. And it liked Max the most.
[System Notification: You are being Observed.]
"By who?" Max whispered.
[Error: Observer Cannot Be Identified.]
The First Anomaly
They reached a chamber that shouldn't exist.
The academy's scans showed this ruin was just one level deep—a collapsed research node. But this chamber descended downwards, a spiraling stairwell that defied logic, space, and probably taste in architecture.
The air shifted.
Suddenly, Max smelled… rain in a desert.
Rei smelled old wood and forgotten libraries.
Arthur? Blood and ash.
Kain? His mother's cooking.
None of them said anything.
The silence felt like a pact. If they spoke, the chamber might notice.
Folder Heroes — And Their Ghosts
As they descended, the walls flickered to life—more holograms, but these weren't scripted recordings. These were fragments of memory, replaying moments from the final war against AI.
A man made of living star-metal arguing with a woman who had a black hole where her heart should be.
A boy, barely older than Max, programming a System Seed into a dying world—sealing it into a newborn's body.
A newborn with black and crimson hair.
Max stumbled.
Rei caught his arm. "You okay?"
"Yeah," Max lied. "Just… déjà vu."
The System's First Truth
At the base of the stairwell lay a door that wasn't a door. It was a concept, an idea of entry, formed from language older than Earth, Gaia, or even the stars themselves.
Max's System freaked out.
[System Alert: You are not authorized to remember this door.]
"What does that mean?" Max whispered.
[System Override: Remember Anyway.]
The door spoke, directly into his mind. Not words, not sound—just understanding.
"Welcome back, Creator."
Max's heart stopped.
Arthur turned. "What did you just say?"
"I… didn't," Max stammered.
[System Note: You have triggered a First Echo.]
What Is A First Echo?
Before Max could ask, the door opened, and the truth poured in.
Flashback Fragment — The Birth of the Perfect System
Somewhere at the end of the AI War, when both sides realized victory was meaningless, the brightest human minds and the most terrifying rogue AIs formed a pact.
They would create one system, a self-correcting intelligence capable of evolving beyond organic or synthetic limits. A system that could guide, repair, and rewrite reality if necessary.
The project's name?
Perfect Being.
The test subject?
A newborn human, untainted by element, technology, or destiny.
That child…
was Max Joules.
Back to the Present
Max reeled, the memory slamming into him like a train made of raw existential horror.
"That's… no," Max shook his head. "I'm not some chosen one experiment baby. I'm just Max. Just… Max."
[System Note: You are more than Max.]
And Then The Walls Spoke
The chamber came alive, shifting around them into something half laboratory, half cathedral, its architecture rewriting itself based on Max's presence.
Arthur raised his spear, eyes narrowed. "What did you do?"
"I didn't do anything!" Max snapped. "This stupid System keeps dragging me into—"
A voice interrupted. Not the System. Not the walls.
A voice Max knew.
"Hello, Max."
A hologram stepped out of thin air—a perfect copy of Max himself, but older. Sharper. Wearing armor made of the same silver as the Forgotten Guardian they met earlier.
"You're me," Max whispered.
"Not quite," the hologram smiled. "I'm the version of you that lost."
The Forgotten Don't Forget
The door behind them slammed shut. The chamber filled with figures—some human, some AI, some impossible to describe.
They were The Forgotten—those who remembered the war's true ending. Those who knew the Merge was not an accident, but a desperate compromise to seal something worse away.
"Why do they look angry?" Kain whispered.
"Because," Future Max said, "the seal is breaking."
"And guess who's the key?" the hologram grinned, pointing directly at Max.
Surprise Attack — When Legends Come to Life
Before Max could panic properly, the floor exploded, and something clawed its way out—a Folder Villain, one of the legendary traitors who sided with the rogue AIs during the war.
Black Thorn Monarch, a creature made of writhing cables and molten shadow, whose face constantly shifted between thousands of past victims.
Arthur immediately attacked, flames cascading down his spear like a volcanic waterfall.
The Monarch laughed, catching the spear bare-handed. "The Magma Prince. How quaint."
Max, meanwhile, was frozen. His System was silent for the first time ever.
Then a new message appeared:
[System Alert: Creator Protocol Unlocked.]
[Command Available: Rewrite Battlefield.]
Max blinked. "Rewrite what now?"
[Command Accepted.]
The entire chamber glitched—walls becoming sky, floor becoming ocean, gravity becoming optional.
Everyone screamed. Except Max.
Because for once, he understood.
This wasn't a field trip.
This was a reset.