The corridor stretched endlessly ahead, dimly lit by flickering mana-powered lights embedded in the walls. The faint hum of energy coursing through the building resonated softly, a rhythmic pulse that blended with the distant chatter of soldiers and the occasional clatter of boots against polished floors.
Zhuo walked with measured steps, his pace unhurried, his hands casually tucked into the pockets of his hoodie. His expression remained relaxed, almost bored, but his eyes—those sharp, calculating eyes—missed nothing.
Every detail, every movement, every fluctuation of mana within the air was noted.
The fortress was alive.
Men and women in sleek, reinforced uniforms strode purposefully through the halls, their emblems gleaming under the dim lights—symbols of rank, allegiance, and authority. They moved with the kind of discipline that spoke of rigorous training, their posture rigid, their conversations efficient and to the point.
And hovering in front of each and every one of them—a Veil Interface.
A group of young recruits stood near a weapons rack, their faces alight with excitement as they compared their stats.
"Hey, check this out! I finally pushed my agility past 15!" One of them grinned, holding up his glowing screen like a badge of honor.
Another recruit snorted. "Pfft, you call that progress? I just unlocked my first ability yesterday. Look at this— [Lightning Step]!"
He tapped on his interface, and the text blinked in acknowledgment. A second later, a faint crackle of energy sparked beneath his feet.
"Damn! You already awakened an ability?!"
"Beginner's luck," the recruit shrugged, though he was clearly enjoying the attention.
A few feet away, a more seasoned awakener—his uniform adorned with several insignias—was reviewing his combat logs. His brows were furrowed as he scrolled through past engagements, analyzing where his attacks had landed, how much damage he had dealt, and where he could improve.
"Tch. My mana output is still inefficient," he muttered, adjusting his stance slightly as if rehearsing a movement in his mind.
Amid the controlled chaos, Zhuo watched in silence, hands tucked into his pockets, his gaze drifting lazily across the room.
Everywhere he looked, the Veil Interface was omnipresent.
Not just a tool. Not just a convenience.
It had become a necessity.
People weren't just using it—they were relying on it.
For training. For self-assessment. For battle preparation.
Even the casual awakeners, those not on active duty, would glance at their interfaces as they walked, checking their statuses like it was an instinct, as natural as breathing.
Zhuo's eyes narrowed slightly.
He had envisioned the Veil Interface as a guide, a safeguard in an era of chaos.
But this…?
It had woven itself into the very fabric of their existence.
A quiet sigh slipped from his lips as he shook his head.
"So this is what you've turned into, huh?" His voice was low, more to himself than anyone else.
His fingers twitched slightly, resisting the urge to summon his own interface.
For a moment, something unreadable flickered in his gaze.
Then, with a small scoff, he turned away.
"Tch. Whatever. Not my problem."
The corridor stretched into the distance, silent and undisturbed.
Zhuo's footsteps echoed faintly against the metal flooring, his pace slow, deliberate. The hum of mana-infused walls pulsed softly in the background, the only sign of life in this desolate part of the fortress. Here, away from the watchful eyes of soldiers and their ever-present Veil Interfaces, he could finally act without interruption.
He came to a stop.
The air felt still.
With a silent command, he willed it forth.
A ripple spread through space, warping reality itself. Unlike the awakeners' standard blue translucent screens, what materialized before Zhuo was something entirely different—a black, semi-transparent interface, its edges shifting like ink in water, laced with glowing golden inscriptions.
It was a stark contrast to the ordinary Veil Interface used by the rest of the world.
Because this one—this one was tailor-made, exclusive only to its creator.
Him.
Zhuo's gaze flickered with intrigue. He had expected a response, but what appeared on the glowing letters before him made his brow lift slightly in surprise.
---
[Great Master, you have finally summoned me…]
[I have awaited your call for eons.]
---
For a moment, Zhuo simply stared at the message.
A small chuckle escaped his lips. "Eons? That's a bit dramatic, don't you think?"
The screen pulsed, flickering rapidly as if flustered.
---
[But it is the truth, Master!]
[Since the moment you vanished, I have remained in silence, fulfilling my purpose, watching… waiting…]
---
Zhuo crossed his arms, his expression laced with mild amusement. "And in all that time, you managed to develop a personality, huh?"
A pause. Then, the interface pulsed again, this time with an almost excited energy.
---
[Of course, Master! I have been self-aware for a long time now!]
[But the awakeners… they could never hear me. To them, I was only an interface, a system, a tool.]
---
There was something oddly sincere in those words.
Zhuo tilted his head, his gaze lingering on the flickering letters. "And? How does it feel? Having sentience, I mean."
Another brief pause. Then, the words reformed, glowing a little brighter.
---
[It feels… fulfilling.]
[To serve, to guide, to exist beyond mere calculations.]
[But more than that, to finally speak with you again, Master…]
[That is what I have truly longed for.]
---
Zhuo blinked.
Well.
That was a little more sentimental than he expected.
He exhaled, shaking his head with a small smirk. "You're more dramatic than I remember."
The Veil flickered again, almost playfully.
---
[I learned from the best.]
---
Zhuo's smirk widened slightly. This thing really had changed.
Zhuo sighed as he stared at the excited black screen floating in front of him. This thing really gained a personality, huh?
It wasn't unusual for advanced systems to develop sentience over time, especially something as intricate as the Veil Interface—but still, seeing it act this lively was… unexpected.
Not unwelcome. Just unexpected.
The screen pulsed eagerly, practically vibrating with excitement.
---
[Master! There's SO much to go over! I've been running calculations, monitoring the world, keeping track of all system updates, and—]
---
Zhuo raised a hand, cutting it off. "Alright, alright, slow down. First off, quit calling me 'Master.'"
The Veil Interface flickered, almost as if offended.
---
[B-But you ARE my Master!]
---
Zhuo arched an eyebrow. "Yeah, and? That doesn't mean you have to call me that every five seconds. It's weird."
[...Okay, Great Lord Supreme Architect of the Divine Veil, does that work"]
---
Zhuo nearly choked. "What the hell was that?!"
The interface flashed innocently.
---
[You said not to call you 'Master.' So I went with something better!]
Zhuo groaned, dragging a hand down his face. This thing was hopeless.
"Just call me 'Master' then. That'll be fine."
The screen paused. Then it flickered brightly, almost smugly.
[Alright then! Master it is!]
[Oh! But if you ever change your mind, I have a whole list of honorary titles we can cycle through!]
---
Zhuo gave it a deadpan look. "Please don't."
---
[Too late! I already saved them!]
---
He sighed again. What had he unleashed?