In a universe dominated by the cold hum of machinery, magic had withered into a fleeting whisper, barely enough to stir a breath of wind. Most worlds basked in the icy glow of advanced technology, where metallic cities towered beneath smoke-laden skies. Engines roared, data coursed through invisible streams, and progress marched forward with unrelenting momentum. Magic, once revered and powerful, had dwindled to mere parlor tricks—a glimmer of the impossible, now seen only in rare, fleeting moments. A quirk of the body or mind, no more wondrous than the latest invention.
Yet, there existed a world long forgotten, untouched by the gleam of metal. In that world, swords still clashed with the weight of ancient honor. Men bled not for the pursuit of data or currency, but for pride, for dominion over blood-soaked lands where war never slept.IÂ
Amidst that battle-worn earth, a man known only as the General knelt in defeat, his once-majestic armor reduced to tatters. Blood soaked the ground beneath him, the crimson trail a bitter reminder of his long struggle. The armor that had once mirrored his indomitable will now sagged against his frame, a mockery of its former glory. His memories swirled like a storm—battles fought not for conquest, but for survival. The screams of his enemies, those who sought to break him, had once filled him with a dark satisfaction, their agony a reflection of the chains and fire that had shackled him in his youth.
But today was different.
He had not been vanquished by an army, nor by the power of magic or the cold precision of machines. His defeat had come at the hands of a far more ruthless adversary—time. The General, stripped of title and power, felt the cruel sting of inevitable loss.
Death approached, its steps silent yet absolute. As the world dimmed, and the cold embrace of oblivion reached for him, he felt the weight of the end. His body may have faltered, but his soul—his essence—resisted. Even now, as life drained from his veins, there was an ember deep within him that refused to be extinguished. Death, it seemed, was not the final foe.
Blood trickled from his lips as he coughed, turning his gaze to his comrades. A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. They still fought, still clung to life. With one final surge, he gave his last command. His voice, weak but resolute, rallied them forward, pushing them into an arrow formation. Their battle cries mingled with the screams of the dying, a symphony of defiance.
"Die with pride, and rest with honor, Ehen," a voice whispered, not from the battlefield, but from the stars themselves.
And then, the universe itself seemed to shift.
Time and space buckled, warping beneath the weight of an ancient, celestial presence. A figure materialized, radiant and awe-inspiring, crowned with light. Its blue robe shimmered like the edge of the cosmos, and hair that glowed softly swayed despite the absence of wind. The being reached forward, its hand seizing Ehen's soul, pulling him from the mortal plane with the ease of plucking a leaf from a tree.
He was cast from the battlefield like a comet, streaking through the galaxies, wrapped in a cocoon of pure energy. No longer did he have form, no longer flesh or bone—only raw, untamed power spiraled through the infinite reaches of space. He was adrift, spiraling uncontrollably, until at last, he was drawn into a distant galaxy and crashed upon the surface of an uninhabitable planet. The impact shattered its surface, scattering debris and dust into the void.
In the silence that followed, a series of mechanical noises echoed across the broken landscape.
[USER IS NOT MATTER]
[ADAPTING SYSTEM]
[The "Cliché" System has been uninstalled]
[Locating optimal system]
[Transcendent System selected]
[Would the user like to install the system?]
[System has recognized user is unable to respond]
[Installing system]
A distant beeping and whirring filled the cosmic emptiness, drawing the attention of the Space Group—an organization unaffiliated with any government, yet whose research reached beyond the understanding of the most advanced galactic coalitions.
Ehen's awareness began to return, though not as it once was. His soul twisted and turned, struggling to comprehend its new existence. No longer bound by flesh, no longer tethered to the limitations of humanity, his consciousness stretched across the vastness of his new form. He was a star, a burning mass of energy in the void. He could not see, could not move—only exist, suspended in the infinite coldness of space.
And so, he drifted. The occasional spacecraft passed by, a distant observer to his cosmic isolation, indifferent to the suffering of a soul that had once commanded armies.
But then, something stirred within him. A hunger—a primal need he hadn't felt in ages—ignited deep within the core of his being. Without understanding why, instinct took hold. His star form flared with energy, releasing scorching rays of heat that lashed out at a passing vessel, unmanned and guided by artificial intelligence. The ship's systems buckled under the assault, its hivemind severed by the overwhelming energy Ehen released.
The intelligences onboard scrambled to respond, but they were swiftly incapacitated, overwhelmed by incomprehensible data streaming into their circuits. The ship spiraled out of control, debris scattering in its wake as the lights flickered and dimmed, the once powerful machine brought to ruin.
[User has consumed Robotic Existence and Artificial Assimilation]
[User has found being a star uncomfortable, hence, System has found it appropriate to send User's consciousness into a deactivated robot. While in this robot, the System will have an easier time communicating and will gain personality based on Ehen's interests in friendship.]
…
Elsewhere, across the vastness of space, a piercing scream shattered the air, reaching the ears of the autocratic leader, Simon Bockham. His face twisted in anger as he barked orders at the trembling scientist before him.
"Why did that happen!? My ears are bleeding! Fix this, now!" Simon bellowed, his voice shaking the very walls.
The scientist, shaking with fear, scrambled to search for an answer, but the computer found nothing. He turned helplessly toward Simon, who wasted no time in delivering a sharp slap across his face before storming off, his guards trailing closely behind.
Meanwhile, far from the chaos, in the frozen silence of an abandoned factory, metal clanged softly as an android stirred to life. Its sensors flickered, and it began to move, its joints stiff from disuse. The android looked around at its surroundings—cold, motionless machines, frozen like statues of a forgotten past.
Robotic sounds escaped its lips, echoing through the factory's hollow corridors.
"I'm... alive?"