ayniko

“Everything has a design. Even your fall.”

When nineteen-year-old Kairo Vale signs a forbidden contract to rewrite his destiny, he doesn’t gain power he loses time. Days vanish from his memory. Faces he once knew forget he exists. But the more the world erases him, the more powerful he becomes.

Hunted by beings known only as Architects immortals who manipulate fate like blueprints Kairo must uncover the ancient designs buried beneath reality. Every lie he shatters, every rule he breaks, rewrites the very laws of existence.

But the clock is ticking.
And something is watching.

In a world where truth is a weapon and time is currency, can a man fated for oblivion build his own design… or become the final draft?

Architect of Oblivion

The Breachpoint faded behind them, swallowed by fog and glitch. Kairo followed Vega through a shifting corridor of fragmented architecture—half-broken streets, ceilingless stairways, subway cars suspended in midair. The landscape refused logic, and reality seemed to be patching itself in real-time, like an unstable server trying to load assets faster than they could render.

"This place isn't stable," Kairo muttered.

Vega didn't look back. "It's not supposed to be. It's a liminal shard. An error pocket. A side effect of you surviving."

"You think the world just… breaks for fun?" Vega stopped walking and turned. "When a fragment survives re-instantiation, it damages the build. The system can't reconcile it. So instead of fixing you, it quarantines the area you exist in. Welcome to your own fracture zone, Kairo."

He stared at the unreal geometry around them. "This is because of me?"

"Partially," she said. "You and others like you. The world glitches more with each surviving variable. That's why the Architects want us gone. Not because we're dangerous—because we're expensive."

Kairo exhaled slowly. "So we're bugs in their perfect software."

"No," Vega said. "We're proof that the system isn't perfect at all."

They kept walking, until the architecture began to thin. The fog lifted just slightly. And ahead, something massive loomed.

It spiraled up into a sky that didn't exist—just pixels and static. The structure looked like it had been assembled from every version of a building at once. Part cathedral, part data server, part brutalist bunker.

And at the top of it: a singular glowing eye.

It blinked once—slow and deliberate.

Vega stopped at the base. "This is the Watchtower."

He felt it before he heard it. A vibration beneath his feet. A low hum in his bones.

"She's looking at us," Vega said, voice tight. "The Observer."

Kairo took a step back. "Who is she?"

"Not who. What. The Observer is a subroutine. A failsafe. She watches the fragments that get too far. The ones that start changing things."

"You said they were watching," Kairo whispered. "You meant her."

Vega nodded. "If she decides you're a threat, she calls a Revision Squad. The most brutal enforcers the Architects created. They don't correct. They erase."

Kairo clenched his fists. "Then we bring the tower down."

Vega gave a faint smile. "You're not ready. But you could be."

She walked forward, placing a hand on the tower wall. The glyphs beneath her fingers rearranged. The hum shifted pitch.

"I've been here before," she said. "Tried to reach the top. Didn't make it."

Kairo stepped up beside her. "So why come back?"

"Because you might. And I want to see what happens when a fragment finally breaks through."

The eye above blinked again—and this time, it focused.

A voice echoed from above. Not a voice like a human's. A synthetic whisper, flattened and reverberated into every direction at once.

"Designation K0-Rez. Progress: 27%. Stability: Falling. Narrative deviation detected."

And a stairway unfolded from the base—spiraling upward like an invitation. Or a challenge.

Vega looked at him. "You start climbing, and there's no going back."

Kairo met her eyes. "Was there ever a back?"

Together, they stepped onto the first stair.

Above them, the eye remained fixed.

The One Who Watches