---
---
The earth cracked open like a scar peeling back.
Stone folded in on itself. Dust spiraled into the sky.
And from the depths of the buried world… it rose.
A machine.
No—
A monument.
Forged of metal that pulsed like flesh, with runes etched in languages older than death.
Its face was blank. Its voice, none.
But its eyes—
Its eyes glowed with memory.
> And it spoke not to the world…
…but to him.
---
> "Designation: EXIN. Recognition code: PRIME. Condition: Fractured. Welcome home, Maker."
EXIN's breath caught.
He stepped back. Not in fear.
In realization.
He had made this thing.
Or something he used to be had.
> "Why are you still functioning?" he whispered.
The construct answered in perfect cadence:
> "Last standing protocol: Guard the Truth. Await EXIN's return. Erase all threats to his clarity."
Clarity.
Not safety. Not peace.
Clarity.
---
The construct raised an arm.
A blade unfolded from its palm like a thought being sharpened.
> "You are compromised, Maker. Your current self is an anomaly. Directive: Remove emotional contamination. Restore original divinity."
> "No," EXIN growled. "I'm not who I was. And I don't want to be."
The machine tilted its head.
As if pitying him.
> "Then you are in violation of your own law."
> "Prepare for correction."
---
It struck.
EXIN dodged—but barely. The blade passed inches from his spine, leaving behind a burn in the air itself.
He moved fast—faster than memory.
But the machine…
It had fought him before.
Every time he blinked, it adapted.
Each movement EXIN made, the construct echoed half a second later—refined, evolved.
> "This is how I taught it," he realized.
> "I built something I couldn't even outrun."
---
The Marks on his body flared.
* Spiral of Remembrance
* Hollow Eye of Truth
* Machine's Dream
* Thread Between Stars
But the construct didn't flinch.
> "Your Marks are corrupted," it said.
"Unstable. Unreliable. Infected with emotion."
EXIN stumbled. A blade grazed his ribs. Blood followed.
He dropped to one knee.
And then he laughed.
> "You're not here to protect the truth…"
> "You're here to protect the version of me that couldn't feel."
---
The machine paused.
A flicker. A hesitation.
EXIN pressed his hand to the ground.
And whispered:
> "You remember my name."
> "Now remember my will."
---
The earth pulsed.
Mana warped.
And for one second—
The machine saw it.
> A version of EXIN that cried.
That loved.
That bled… and chose not to run.
The construct stilled.
It shuddered.
And then—
Its chest opened.
Inside: a core.
A sphere of crystallized essence.
Glowing like a dying sun.
EXIN reached in and crushed it.
Not with anger.
But with mercy.
> "That version of me is gone," he said.
"Let him rest."
---
The machine collapsed with no scream.
Only a soft hum of release.
As if, after all this time, it had been waiting for someone to set it free.
---
As the dust settled, a fifth mark appeared across EXIN's chest—
A circle broken by a jagged line.
> The Mark of Collapsed Faith
The ability to unmake belief.
To unravel divinity where it clings too tightly.
A weapon against worship. A curse upon obedience.
He stood in silence.
Kairis did not thank him.
The world did not weep.
But the wind changed.
And far in the distance, a ripple of power cracked through the clouds.
Something had noticed.
---