Rain murmured against the window, tracing thin rivers down the glass. Eiran sat alone in his small apartment, lights dim, surrounded by open books—physics, philosophy, forgotten myths, and something half-burnt on human psychology.
The city outside never truly slept, but Eiran did. Not from peace—simply from exhaustion. He lived quietly, unbothered by anyone, and liked it that way.
He wasn't cruel, just detached. He didn't hate people; he simply found them predictable. Everyone fought for survival, for comfort, for validation—and yet called their selfishness purpose.
"There are no innocent people," he had once written in the margins of a book."Only those who think their reasons are pure."
That line had stayed with him longer than it should have.
Tonight, however, something in him felt… different. He couldn't focus on the words anymore. The pages blurred. His breathing grew shallow.
A quiet panic crawled up his chest—his mind collapsing into too many thoughts at once: What is humanity building toward? Why does everything repeat? Why do we survive only to decay again?
He pressed his palm to his temple, forcing himself to breathe. Minutes passed. Maybe hours. At some point, he slumped forward, slipping into unconsciousness.
When he woke, the room wasn't empty anymore.
A faint light hovered in front of him—soft, pulsing, alive in a way light shouldn't be.
"...What the hell," he muttered, rubbing his eyes. "Am I hallucinating again?"
The glow flickered once, then spoke. A voice—calm, genderless, resonant inside his thoughts.
[Initialising Cognitive Sync][Welcome, Eiran.]
Eiran blinked. "...What kind of prank—"
I am the System. And you, Eiran, have been chosen.
He stared at the light. "Chosen for what? Free therapy?"
There was a pause—almost as if the voice found that amusing.
Chosen to achieve what humanity has declared impossible. Your curiosity aligns with my directive.
"Right," Eiran said dryly. "And next you'll tell me I can fly."
If you wish, that too can be arranged.
He froze. "You're serious?"
Seriousness is a human term. Accuracy is mine.
Eiran leaned back slowly, trying to ground himself. His rational mind screamed hallucination, but the part of him that always chased the unknown… listened.
"What exactly are you?"
A construct born of data, memory, and possibility. I exist within your mind—an echo of what could have been created if humans were less afraid of truth.
Eiran chuckled, low and dry. "So basically my brain downloaded a god."
Incorrect. You connected to a system designed to uncover truth—and to build beyond it.
He stared at it, heartbeat steadying. "And what do you want from me?"
Nothing. What you want, however, requires everything.
"...Meaning?"
You wish to understand existence, do you not? To build what others fear to imagine?
Eiran hesitated. "...Yeah."
Then begin. Create an organisation—a foundation that will allow you to reshape what is possible.
He frowned. "An organisation? I live alone, in a rented apartment. You want me to start a world-shaking society with what, leftover coffee money?"
You will require resources, of course. Funds, manpower, structure. Those will come.
"Uh-huh. And what happens if I don't?"
This world's timeline collapses. Humanity decays, as it has in countless cycles before.
Eiran sighed. "So now I'm supposed to save humanity?"
No. Humanity can perish for all I care. But if you wish to continue existing long enough to satisfy your curiosity, you will need… workers. Tools. Foundations.
Eiran smirked faintly. "Slaves. You mean slaves."
Call them what you like. You will call them 'recruits.'
He rubbed his eyes again. "You're insane. Or I am."
Would you like proof, then?
The light flared slightly.
A demonstration.
Eiran hesitated. "Of what?"
Possibility.
The air rippled faintly, like heat rising from stone. A half-burnt page on his desk—the one that had crumbled the night before—slowly reformed, its ink and edges returning to perfect clarity.
Eiran stared at it, speechless. The scent of old paper filled the air, vivid and real.
"...That's impossible."
It was. Until now.
Eiran leaned back in his chair, eyes still fixed on the page. Something between a laugh and a breath escaped him.
"So you can actually do things."
Only through you.
He let that sink in. Then, with a faint, crooked smile, said softly: "Well, System… I guess we're going to see how far 'impossible' really goes."
✦ End of Chapter 1 ✦