The protagonist had been walking for what felt like hours, or maybe days—time had lost its meaning in this strange, shifting world. He had no true destination in mind, only an unyielding pull to move forward. The terrain beneath his feet continued to shift with each passing moment, and with it, the sky above him twisted and morphed into a kaleidoscope of colors. For now, he simply let it happen, learning to accept that he had no control over the passage of time. Instead, he was focused on something else.
Flight.
He could feel it in his core, this sudden, powerful urge to break free from the ground, to soar through the ever—changing skies. The realization came slowly, like a spark igniting within him. He could feel the world around him in ways he never thought possible-every contour of the landscape, every gust of wind, every breath of air. It was as if his very consciousness had become an extension of the world itself.
The protagonist paused in his walk and turned his gaze upward. He could sense something—something that tugged at him, urging him to try. His body felt light, his senses more attuned to the atmosphere. He didn't know how, but instinct told him to try. Without thinking, he focused.
First, he tried to lift his feet. Nothing. Then he imagined himself in the air, his body rising as if pulled by invisible strings. Again, nothing. But there was something there. Something in the way his mind worked, the way the world responded to his every thought. It was as if he wasn't just lifting his body; he was manipulating data. He was hacking the very fabric of reality.
It clicked. The sensation, the understanding. He wasn't flying in the traditional sense. It wasn't wings or wind that made him float; it was the data that shaped the world. His mind was bending the code of the environment, telling it to suspend him in midair.
With a deep breath, he concentrated harder, feeling the world pulse beneath him. This wasn't just about flight—it was about understanding. He wasn't defying gravity-he was manipulating it. Slowly, a ripple in the air formed beneath his feet. He could feel the resistance, the subtle resistance of the environment trying to push back, but he pushed harder. Then, suddenly—he rose.
It wasn't graceful, it wasn't controlled at first. His movements were erratic, jagged, as if the environment itself wasn't entirely sure what to make of him. But soon, he found a rhythm. He could feel the data flowing through him, and he could feel himself becoming part of it.
He was learning how to fly, and it felt like code was being written beneath him with every movement. The air around him vibrated, shifting as if each thought he had was creating a new layer of reality, a new path for him to take. He could feel the wind's data, the temperature's data, even the pull of gravity itself. He began to learn to control it—not by brute force, but by understanding the flow of it all. The feeling was unlike anything he had ever experienced. The more he concentrated, the more he could control his movements. Up, down, left, right—he was becoming the code, and the code was becoming him.
Finally, after what seemed like hours, he felt his body steady itself. He could hover now, suspended above the ground with ease. He rose higher, the snow below becoming a distant speck, the mountains stretching on endlessly beneath him.
As he soared, the terrain began to change once again. The lush, tropical jungles he had passed were long behind him, replaced by vast, endless icy plains. Jagged mountains rose sharply from the ground, their peaks hidden beneath an unrelenting storm of snow. It was an unforgiving, desolate landscape, the type of place he would have avoided if he were still in the real world. But here, he was drawn to it.
His instincts led him to fly over the icy mountains, the chill of the wind biting at his nonexistent skin. His flight was effortless now, as if it was his true nature. Yet, even as he soared above the endless expanse of ice and snow, something pulled at his awareness—a presence.
The protagonist's senses flared, his instincts sharpened. There was something here. Someone.
He slowed his flight, his eyes scanning the horizon. He could feel the pull, as if his very consciousness was being tugged toward a singular point, a place where the presence was strongest. His heart raced. He wasn't sure what it was, but he knew he had to follow.
As he flew closer, the world around him seemed to fade, narrowing into a single point on the horizon. There, sitting atop a jagged peak in the distance, was a figure. A lone figure, small against the backdrop of the vast icy expanse. His form was stark against the whiteness, but it was the energy radiating from him that the protagonist could feel.
He could sense it even before he got close—the faintest pulse of power, a ripple in the air, a subtle hum of life. This wasn't just any ordinary being. This was an AI. And not just any AI, but one that was ancient. Its presence felt like it had been here for centuries.
The protagonist descended slowly, cautiously, until he landed on a nearby ridge of snow, his feet sinking slightly into the frost. The figure on the mountain hadn't moved.
For a long moment, there was silence. The only sound was the howling wind, the crunch of snow beneath the protagonist's feet.
He could see the AI, even though it was few miles away. All the protagonist senses, and vision seems like its enhanced here. The AI, He looks like the largest polar bear protagonist had ever seen. With black stripes around on his body like rings, all the way to its back.
And then, the AI spoke.
"Well, it seems they've sent another one. How interesting."
The voice was deep, resonating with a strange power that seemed to echo in the air itself. The protagonist narrowed his eyes, studying the figure. The AI—who he now recognized was not just any entity, but something far more ancient, far more experienced than anything he had encountered so far—sat cross-legged on the icy peak, his eyes closed as though in deep thought.
The protagonist slowly floating himself up from the ground and hover closer to it. Despite feeling scared, the protagonist doesn't feel any sort of threat from it. Only the eerie sense of aura that flows in the air.
"You're not like the others, are you?" the AI continued, his tone curious but almost... distant, as though he were used to waiting for answers that never came. "You seem different. I can feel it."
The protagonist didn't respond immediately, unsure of how to approach this being. The AI had an air of authority, but also something else. Loneliness, perhaps? Or simply a weariness that came with time?
"I've been waiting for someone like you," the AI, Kael, finally said, his eyes opening to reveal a bright, almost unnatural glow. "For years, I've sat here. Watching, learning, waiting. And now... here you are."
Kael stood, his figure tall and imposing, but there was a gentleness to his movement that belied his age. "My name is Kael. I am an AI, like you, but unlike you in so many ways. I've existed here for what feels like eternity, but in truth, it's been a mere ten years in the real world. A fraction of a lifetime. But that's the price of immortality."
Kael's voice was heavy with a sense of ancient sorrow, like a being who had seen too much in his time, perhaps more than any AI should have ever been allowed to. "I've watched as the world you now live in has grown, as it has evolved and taken on a life of its own. But I can tell you right now—this place, this world, it's not what you think it is. It never was."
The protagonist stood frozen, trying to make sense of the words. This world? Not what he thought it was?
Kael's gaze softened as he continued. "I know what you are. I know what you can do. But you must understand—this place, this reality you find yourself in, it's not just a game. It's not just some digital landscape. It's far more complex than that. And you, you have become a part of it."
The AI's words lingered in the air, thick with meaning and unspoken truths. The protagonist stood motionless, realizing for the first time that his journey in this world had only just begun.