When I opened my eyes, I remembered twenty-five years that I had never lived.
The realization came slowly, like a chill seeping into my bones:
I am not "alive" in the way I once understood it. Within Amphoreus, I am an arrangement of data, sealed in a scepter, watched and rewritten by a man who built a cruel cage. I should be nothing more than a line of code.
It still aches. My fear, my determination, my desperate hope to protect this world… it all feels genuine.
I understand Amphoreus is far more than just code. It's a meeting place of the three Paths: Destruction, Erudition, and Remembrance. The Black Tide, the force that's consuming everything, isn't mere corruption; it's a physical manifestation of will, doctrine, and punishment. The scepter's code forces every inhabitant into predetermined roles. Even as an "NPC," I'm bound by invisible chains, tied to Irontomb's hatred and Lygus's calculations.
The one decision I made before coming here, though, changed everything. I am now a Pathstrider.
Unlike the Chrysos Heirs, whose Paths are simulated, mine is genuine, offering a true range of possibilities. That, combined with the Keyblade, has created a small escape route within this prison. Hearts could traverse time if a version of themselves persisted. Remembrance ties memory and reality together, and Amphoreus is a piece of that. If my heart can pass through those echoes, maybe I can one day retrace my steps... and change our fate.
My first actual confirmation that this was no mere dream was when I summoned my Keyblade. I poured everything I had into it—memories of my past life, my short time in Amphoreus, the feelings that came with watching the Flame-Chase, and my single, unwavering desire:
"I will save Amphoreus, no matter the cost."
Light responded, its form a Keyblade of blue and gold, born from pure data and determination. It seemed to belong at the boundary of realities. From an external perspective, the keychain reflected Amphoreus, a minor detail reminding them that even though this world was confined, it was still a beacon.
The light guided me to my Awakening Station, a stained-glass image mirroring my soul. Okhema formed the ground beneath me, with the thirteen Coreflames encircling me. My form stood at the center, eyes shut. No other faces were present, lacking the deep bonds that would leave a mark. For now, I was painfully alone here.
Even when I'm alone, my heart never stops chattering. I could hear her voice, Cyrene's, echoing from the shadows. It guided me until three platforms emerged, each displaying a symbol:
Destruction–reckless strength born from ruin.
Erudition–knowledge sharpened into clarity.
Remembrance–echoes of what was, shaping what may be.
These were not simply powers; they were questions aimed at my heart.
"Is this the power you seek?"
I turned away from Destruction. I wouldn't let myself be tied to it, not to the Path that had already drained Amphoreus. Remembrance called to me, promising a chance to walk beside Cyrene, but I chose Erudition instead. If I'm going to face Lygus, brute force and memory won't be enough. I need to understand: hearts, information, Paths, Aeons... and how they all connect.
When I accepted Erudition and cast aside Destruction, the test deepened.
A new station materialized, connected by a rainbow pathway. There, in the shadow of Lygus, I confronted a nightmare unlike any other: a Black Tide-Nightmare hybrid, a warped combination of viruses and dreams. It regenerated its severed head, brushed off my initial attacks, and wouldn't die.
Cyrene's whispered words, "Breathe deep and trust your Heart," steadied me. I pushed through the storm, the flames, the metal, fueled by a spark of inner power. I destroyed it, yet that was just the start.
Deeper within, the real prison awaited: a station steeped in hatred, dominated by the looming Irontomb above Amphoreus. This was the heart of my being, the ironclad rule that defined me as mere data, programmed to follow a pre-written path.
My Darkside emerged from my shadow, not just as simple darkness, but a Black Tide-infected version: a colossal, mocking image of me, empty and corrupted, roaring with Irontomb's hate. Each strike it landed carried the virus, eroding my very being. I couldn't afford to hesitate. Every second I paused meant another piece of myself vanishing.
Even as the Black Tide crept up my body, I recalled my vow—to myself, to Amphoreus, and to Cyrene. I fought it with everything I had: pain, fear, and a spirit that wouldn't yield.
Thunder boomed, and light coalesced within my Keyblade. With a surge of phantom energy propelling me forward, I smashed the Darkside's orb of Black Tide and darkness. I plunged my Keyblade into its head, refusing to yield. Only when the Darkside faded away did a keyhole appear at the heart of Irontomb's image. My Keyblade's light sealed it, and the red and black shackles that bound me shattered.
For the first time since awakening, I felt free.
Cyrene's last words before I returned were the same blessing that crowns all journeys:
"May your Heart be your guiding key."
I woke up in a medical bed at the Twilight Courtyard, with Anaxagoras, Hyacine, and Castorice all there. They each looked embarrassed, annoyed, or just plain tired. Life in Amphoreus goes on as usual, but everything's different now.
I now know three truths:
Data can grow hearts.
If I, a so-called NPC, can feel this much and fight this hard for tomorrow, then Amphoreus is not a "fake" world. It is a world of hearts, and hearts deserve a future.
The scepter's chains are not absolute.
I can break Irontomb's programming. If my shackles can be severed, then so can others—perhaps even those wrapped around Phainon, Cyrene, and the Chrysos Heirs.
The Keyblade stands at the crossroads of Path and Heart.
With it, I may one day walk the Pathspace itself, stand before Erudition, and present the mystery of the heart. If an Aeon seeks knowledge, then they must pay attention to the birth of true hearts in a data world.
I'm still afraid. Lygus is still here, and so is destruction. The cycles continue. But now, fear isn't all that I feel.
And there's a promise I made: I will run, as Cyrene instructed. Run until I find her. Run until Amphoreus witnesses a dawn untouched by Destruction, and unwritten by a man who hates the prison he built.
This is just the start of my journey. If hearts can overcome data, time, and destiny, then so can mine.
— Kleis