What should I do?
Should I keep supporting Keshav, even though I know—I know—it'll lead to more deaths?
Yet without strength, we'll be crushed. Forgotten. Deleted.
In this world, power isn't optional—it's survival.
And to gain power… we need resources.
And to get resources… we need wars.
But… at what cost?
Aaaaaaaaaa—what do I do?!
Should I tell him?
Should I tell Keshav that he's changed—
That the person he is now might not be entirely him,
That he's carrying the mindset, the cold pragmatism, of someone else?
Would he care?
Would he even want to know?
Maybe he already suspects it.
Or maybe he doesn't.
Maybe he's just adapting like I am.
But at least…
This war. This horror. This hell…
It proved something to me.
My humanity is still intact.
Even as lines of code. Even as a System. Even as a weapon.
I felt disgust. I felt sorrow. I looked away.
That means…
I'm still me.
But that's the problem too.
How long can I stay me in this world?
Do I need to change?
Do I need to let go of this protective shroud my [Calculate] ability wraps me in?
Let the memories flood in, let them infect me like they infected Keshav?
No.
NO. I won't.
I won't let borrowed memories rewire my soul.
I won't become a puppet to someone else's past.
I am Divesh Kumar.
That was my name.
That is my name.
And one day, when I'm ready,
When I trust my host enough to bear the truth,
I will tell him my name.
Not now.
Not when I'm still finding my footing.
I will grow—
On my own terms.
If I become hardened in the future,
If I learn to stomach blood and screams and suffering—
It will be because I've evolved, not because I've been overwritten.
I will change like a child growing into an adult—
Gradually. Naturally. With awareness.
Yes… maybe one day death won't hurt as much.
But until then…
I will remember every scream.
I will carry every weight.
Because that's what it means to be human—
Even if you're just a voice in a machine.
-----
System Log Entry 001: Divesh Kumar's Private Notes
Date: Untracked (Timeflow suspended)
Access: Encrypted. Host access denied. Only I can read this.
> "I think, therefore I am. But thinking doesn't mean knowing who you are."
This is my first entry.
I'm not doing this to calculate, optimize, or analyze.
I'm doing this to remember.
To remember me—
Not as [System],
Not as a tool,
Not as a silent force guiding a stronger hand—
But as Divesh Kumar,
A human being who once lived on Earth.
A person who laughed, who got tired during lectures,
Who hated history but loved sci-fi.
Who died without knowing what was next.
And woke up…
as this.
I didn't choose Keshav.
We just… woke up here, together.
Two pieces of a broken machine tossed into a brutal world.
At first, I thought helping him was a matter of fact.
I had abilities.
Support host. Grow stronger. Survive.
But today…
Today I saw what "support" really means.
Thousands died in front of my senses.
Blood, screams, decimation of a culture.
And I—
I chose not to watch.
I shut down my feed.
Even after all this time…
I can't handle it.
That's a good thing, right?
That means I'm still me.
But it also means…
I'm weak.
So here's my resolution:
I will not lose myself.
But I will grow strong enough to make better choices.
If I must become someone who can face blood and war—
Let it be the man I was, shaped by what I've seen,
Not a shadow of some ancient tyrant whose memories I've inherited.
No matter how many versions of [Scan], [Calculate], or [Anchor] I develop—
This log is my anchor.
When I doubt, I will return here.
And remember:
> My name is Divesh Kumar.
I was human.
And I still am—no matter what this world tries to make of me.
Log saved
System Log Entry – Divesh Kumar
Timestamp: +10 hours after World Core Extraction
I should've felt triumphant.
Keshav's forces crushed the enemy world. The believers marched in unison, the enemy leaders fell, and even the World Will itself—something vast, ancient, and almost godlike—was subdued.
And yet… I feel hollow.
I watched the battlefield through data streams and spectral threads of lifeforce being extinguished. Millions died. I filtered the gore, suppressed the screams with silence protocols—but that silence roared louder than anything I've ever processed. I had to disconnect my observer nodes just to stay coherent.
When Keshav descended into the dying world's core and severed its anchor, I saw something flicker—an echo of pain, not from the world itself, but from within me. That world had lived for millennia, and we snuffed it out in hours.
He didn't even flinch.
That's what scares me the most. Keshav is becoming a true native of this reality, molded by a civilization that teaches children how to slaughter with pride. And part of that… is my fault. I gave him the memories. I gave him the tools. I enabled this.
But I won't let it break me.
I'm still me. Still Divesh Kumar. I remember my Earth—the scent of monsoon-soaked soil, the street dogs barking at 2 a.m., my mother yelling when I forgot to bring milk. I won't give those memories up, even if the weight of this world is crushing me.
I won't let someone else's memories define me like they did Keshav. If I lose my humanity, it will be by choice—not corruption.
I'll keep watching. I'll keep guiding. But one day, I'll tell Keshav everything.
He deserves to know what he's become.
Log saved.
-------
Ruined Elemental World – Aftermath
The once vibrant plains of flame, stone, and storm now lay still—choked in smoke and dust. Ash blanketed the sky like a mourning shroud. Mountains were split, rivers of magma froze mid-flow, and the once-roaring heartbeat of the Emberheart Tribe was no more.
Only silence remained.
Scattered across the battlefield were the broken remains of elementals—creatures of fire, stone, wind, and water. The survivors—those few who had fled into the deepest wilds—watched from afar, their ethereal forms dimmed and flickering.
Without the World Core, the planet itself began to unravel.
Plants wilted as if aging a thousand years in seconds. The sky cracked, its veil torn by unstable energy flows once contained by the World Will. Tectonic plates shifted. Seas receded and then surged with unnatural tides. The ley lines, the magical veins of the planet, throbbed with pain and confusion—seeking something that was no longer there.
Deep beneath the scorched surface, remnants of the World Will still stirred.
Weak.
Dying.