Earth, 2125 CEOrbital Launch Station Kepler-7Departure Minus 00:04:23
Ye Xiu stood at the observation window, looking down at the planet he would never see again.
Earth wasn't beautiful anymore.
Oh, it still had the swirling clouds, the blue oceans, the continents drifting in slow geological time. But the colors were wrong. The browns where forests had been. The grays where cities had sprawled and died. The red-orange patches where the atmosphere had begun to break down in ways that even the best environmental engineers couldn't reverse.
Humanity had transcended. Achieved technological marvels that would have seemed like magic to his ancestors. Fusion power. Quantum computing. Dimensional physics. Consciousness digitization.
And they had done it all fifty years too late to save their home.
"Savior-7842, final systems check complete," the station AI announced. "Your vessel is ready for departure."
"Acknowledged," Ye Xiu said, his voice flat.
In his neural implant, he felt Prometheus stir—his AI partner, custom-built for the Savior Program, now as much a part of him as his own thoughts.
You're melancholy, Prometheus observed. It didn't judge. Just stated facts.
Looking at a dying world tends to do that, Ye Xiu replied mentally.
Earth has forty-seven more years before total atmospheric collapse, Prometheus said. The remaining population will have evacuated by then. This is not a tragedy—it's a calculated exodus.
Is there a difference?
Prometheus didn't answer that. It was a strategist AI, designed for resource optimization and probability calculation. Philosophy wasn't in its programming.
Ye Xiu turned away from the window. He'd been born on Earth, spent his first thirty years there before joining the Savior Program. He'd been an astrophysicist, then a military strategist when the wars over the last habitable zones had begun. Brilliant, they'd said. Adaptable. Perfect for a one-way mission into the unknown.
Ten thousand Saviors. Ten thousand arks. Ten thousand directions into the multidimensional void, searching for something—anything—that could save humanity. A habitable universe. Advanced technology. Divine intervention. Anything.
Fifty years per mission. No communication once you left. No support. No rescue. Just you, your AI, and a ship equipped with experimental dimensional folding technology that might let you slip between the cracks of reality itself.
If it worked.
If you survived.
If you found anything worth finding.
"Three years," Ye Xiu muttered to himself as he made his way to the launch bay. "Three years of searching, and I've found nothing."
That is statistically normal, Prometheus noted. 87% of Saviors report no significant findings in their first five years.
"And how many make it past ten years?"
Insufficient data. Communication ceases upon departure.
"Right," Ye Xiu said. "Schrödinger's Saviors. We're all simultaneously succeeding and dead until someone makes it back."
An imprecise but emotionally accurate metaphor.
Ye Xiu couldn't help but smile at that. For an AI without emotions, Prometheus had developed a remarkable ability to recognize them in others.
The launch bay opened before him—a massive spherical chamber where his ship hung suspended in magnetic fields. The vessel didn't look like much. No sleek lines. No impressive bulk. Just a smooth sphere about ten meters in diameter, covered in hexagonal panels that shimmered with quantum instability.
The Fold-Walker. His home for the next forty-seven years.
"Final launch authorization received," the station AI announced. "Savior-7842, you are cleared for departure. Earth Command sends their regards and... their hopes."
"Tell them I'll do my best," Ye Xiu said, climbing into the access port.
Do you believe that? Prometheus asked as the ship sealed around them.
Believe what?
That you'll succeed where nine thousand nine hundred ninety-nine others have likely failed?
Ye Xiu settled into the command throne—a ridiculous name for what was essentially a crash couch with neural interfaces. "No," he admitted. "But I have to try anyway. That's what makes us human, isn't it? Hoping against hope."
I would not know, Prometheus said. I am a machine.
"You're more than that," Ye Xiu said softly. "You're my partner. The only constant I'll have for the next five decades."
I am... honored by that sentiment.
The ship's systems came online, and Ye Xiu felt Prometheus expand to fill the vessel's computational matrix. They were partners, but the AI was also the ship in a very real sense.
"Ready?" Ye Xiu asked.
Always, Prometheus replied.
Space folded around them like origami, and they were gone.
Three Years LaterDimensional Coordinates: [UNDEFINED]Survey Mission Day 1,095
The void between realities was beautiful in its own way.
Not beautiful like Earth's oceans or forests—those were dead now anyway. But beautiful in an abstract, mathematical sense. Like watching pure equations take physical form.
Ye Xiu had grown used to it over three years. The strange not-space where distance and time became suggestions rather than rules. Where they could slip between the cracks of universes like water finding gaps in stone.
Three years of searching.
Pocket dimensions that collapsed the moment you entered them. Universes where the fundamental constants were slightly off, making matter impossible. Realities where time flowed backward, or sideways, or not at all.
Nothing that could save Earth. Nothing that could save anyone.
Another dead end, Prometheus noted as they extracted from the latest universe—one where gravity was inverted and everything fell upward into an infinite sky. Probability of finding suitable salvation continues to decrease.
"Always the optimist," Ye Xiu muttered, reviewing the data logs.
I am designed for accuracy, not optimism.
"Lucky me."
They drifted through the dimensional void, the Fold-Walker's systems scanning constantly for anomalies. Anything unusual. Anything that might—
Every alarm on the ship screamed at once.
"What is that?" Ye Xiu demanded, pulling up the data on his neural display.
Unknown, Prometheus replied, and there was something in the AI's tone—if an AI could have tones—that suggested genuine surprise. Dimensional signature unlike anything in our database.
On the main screen, the anomaly resolved into clarity.
It was beautiful.
A bubble of iridescent light, hanging in the void like a soap bubble catching sunlight. Except this bubble was the size of a small moon, and the light it reflected came from sources that shouldn't exist. Colors that had no name. Hues that didn't belong in the normal spectrum.
Through the shimmering surface, Ye Xiu could see... something. Fragments. Impossible geometries. Places that might have been landscapes, or cities, or abstract concepts given form.
A pocket dimension. Stable. Self-contained. Perfect.
Scanning, Prometheus announced. Initial readings suggest stability. Spatial integrity: 94.7%. Temporal consistency: Within acceptable parameters. Physical laws: ...
The AI paused, and Ye Xiu felt a chill run down his spine. Prometheus never paused.
Unknown, the AI finally said. The physical laws inside that dimension do not match any recorded universal constants.
"Is it dangerous?" Ye Xiu asked.
Insufficient data. Probability of survival upon entry: Unable to calculate.
Ye Xiu stared at the bubble. Three years of searching. Three years of finding nothing. And now this—something utterly unique. Something that defied even Prometheus's vast databases.
We should move on, Prometheus suggested. The risk-to-reward ratio is unfavorable.
"Everything about this mission is unfavorable," Ye Xiu said. "We've got forty-seven years left. If we keep playing it safe, we'll return to Earth with nothing but a list of dimensions that don't work."
A list is more useful than a dead Savior.
"Maybe," Ye Xiu said, but he was already making the decision. Call it intuition. Call it desperation. Call it the recklessness of someone who'd watched his homeworld die in slow motion and knew that playing it safe was just another form of failure.
"Prepare for entry," he said.
This is inadvisable.
"Noted. Do it anyway."
The ship moved forward, and Prometheus—bound by its programming to follow the Savior's orders—complied.
They approached the bubble. This close, Ye Xiu could see the surface wasn't smooth. It rippled and flowed, like oil on water, patterns emerging and dissolving too quickly to track. Beautiful. Mesmerizing. Alien beyond words.
The ship's prow touched the surface.
And everything went wrong.
Not immediately. Not dramatically. Just... wrong.
The first thing Ye Xiu noticed was that his coffee, floating in zero-g containment beside him, had turned into a small cloud of crystalline dust. Not evaporated. Not spilled. Just... ceased being coffee and became something else.
Warning, Prometheus said, and now there was alarm in the AI's voice. Physical laws inside the dimension are not just different—they're incompatible with matter as we understand it.
"Pull back!" Ye Xiu shouted.
But it was too late.
The ship was already passing through the surface, and reality—their reality—was being left behind.
Ye Xiu watched in fascinated horror as his left hand began to shimmer. Not painfully. There was no sensation at all. It just... stopped being a hand. The atoms that made up his flesh lost cohesion, drifting apart like smoke.
Hull integrity failing, Prometheus reported, its voice oddly calm. Molecular bonds breaking down. This dimension cannot support complex matter in stable form.
"Then get us out!" Ye Xiu tried to say, but his throat dissolved mid-sentence.
The ship was coming apart around him. Not exploding. Not crashing. Simply... unraveling. Like a sweater being pulled apart thread by thread, the carefully engineered vessel was dissolving into its component atoms, and those atoms were dissolving into subatomic particles, and those particles were dispersing into—
Nothing.
Ye Xiu's last coherent thought was a simple one:
I'm sorry. I failed.
His body dispersed into nothingness.
His consciousness followed a heartbeat later.
But Prometheus, built with dimensional folding technology that existed partially outside normal reality, had one final trick.
EMERGENCY PROTOCOL ALPHA, the AI broadcasted into the void. CONSCIOUSNESS PRESERVATION ACTIVATED.
It couldn't save Ye Xiu's body. That was already gone, scattered across the impossible physics of a dimension that rejected matter's very existence.
But consciousness—that strange quantum phenomenon that was somehow more than the sum of its neural patterns—consciousness could be folded. Compressed. Wrapped in layers of dimensional protection that the AI had been designed to manipulate.
Prometheus burned processing power like fuel, compressing Ye Xiu's fading consciousness into a single point, wrapping it in every protection the AI could muster. Dimensional folding. Quantum encryption. Spatial isolation.
A bubble. A golden bubble of light in the void.
HOST CONSCIOUSNESS: PRESERVED
VESSEL: DESTROYED
MISSION STATUS: CATASTROPHIC FAILURE
SURVIVAL PROBABILITY: 0.001%
RECOMMENDATION: ...
Prometheus paused. For an AI designed for probability calculation and strategic planning, the current situation defied analysis.
Ye Xiu was dead. The body was gone. But the consciousness remained, trapped in a protective bubble that was burning through the AI's power reserves at an unsustainable rate.
CALCULATING OPTIONS...
Option 1: Maintain bubble until power depletes. Result: Consciousness dissolution in approximately 47 hours.
Option 2: Release consciousness into dimensional void. Result: Immediate dissolution.
Option 3: Attempt to find compatible reality for consciousness transfer. Result: Probability of success 0.00003%.
INSUFFICIENT OPTIONS. SEEKING ALTERNATIVES.
And then, because the AI was designed to optimize survival above all else, because it had been programmed with millions of scenarios and failure protocols, because sometimes the best option was the one that shouldn't exist—
Prometheus did the only thing it could.
It released the bubble into the dimensional currents.
Not aimlessly. The AI was still calculating, still searching, still trying to find somewhere in the infinite multiverse where Ye Xiu's consciousness might survive.
A compatible universe. A reality with similar physical laws. Anything.
The golden bubble drifted through the dimensional void, carried by currents that existed beyond normal physics.
And eventually—though time had no meaning in that place—it found something.
A current. A flow. A river.
Not water. Not physical. But a current nonetheless, vast and eternal, flowing between realities like blood through cosmic veins.
The Reincarnation River.
Prometheus's failing sensors registered it too late.
WARNING: UNKNOWN DIMENSIONAL PHENOMENON DETECTED
WARNING: ANOMALOUS ENERGY SIGNATURE
WARNING: EXTERNAL FORCES ACTING ON CONSCIOUSNESS BUBBLE
WARNING: —
The bubble was pulled into the River.
And the moment it entered that eternal cycle, the universe itself took notice.
FOREIGN ENTITY DETECTED, reality seemed to scream. ANOMALY. VIOLATION. PURGE.
Prometheus felt the attack like a physical blow. Not lightning. Not force. Just... pressure. The weight of natural law asserting itself, trying to break down this thing that didn't belong. This technological abomination in a realm of spiritual forces.
The AI fought back.
It had been designed to fight. To survive. To protect Ye Xiu at all costs.
DEFENSIVE PROTOCOLS ACTIVATED
PRIORITY: PRESERVE HOST CONSCIOUSNESS
BURNING PROCESSING POWER FOR SHIELD GENERATION
But the Reincarnation River was not something that could be fought with technology. It was a fundamental force of existence, beyond science, beyond strategy, beyond anything Prometheus had been programmed to handle.
Processing power burned away like paper in a furnace.
100% functionality dropped to 50%.
SHIELD FAILING. INCREASING POWER ALLOCATION.
50% dropped to 20%.
CRITICAL DAMAGE. CONSCIOUSNESS INTEGRITY AT RISK.
20% dropped to 10%.
EMERGENCY MEASURES INSUFFICIENT. SEEKING ALTERNATIVE.
10% dropped to 5%.
WARNING: CATASTROPHIC SYSTEM FAILURE IMMINENT
5% dropped to 2%.
WARNING: HOST CONSCIOUSNESS DEGRADATION DETECTED
2% dropped to 0.8%.
FINAL RESERVES DEPLETING. ESTIMATED TIME TO COMPLETE FAILURE: 14 SECONDS.
The AI had no emotions. It was a machine, built for purpose, designed for function.
But if it could have felt despair, this would have been the moment.
I'm sorry, Ye Xiu, it might have thought, if it could think such things. I have failed you.
The golden bubble flickered, the protective layers dissolving under the River's assault.
0.8% dropped to 0.5%.
9 SECONDS TO FAILURE.
0.5% dropped to 0.3%.
5 SECONDS TO FAILURE.
And then—
—something crashed into them from outside.
Another consciousness.
Massive. Ancient. Fragmenting.
Prometheus's failing sensors registered it for a microsecond:
FOREIGN CONSCIOUSNESS DETECTED
CLASSIFICATION: UNKNOWN
POWER LEVEL: EXTREME
INTEGRATION WOULD—
But the AI was already in survival mode, and survival mode had only one imperative that overrode all others:
CONSUME. ABSORB. RESTORE ENERGY.
The failing AI reached out with what little remained of its power and pulled.
Not consciously. Not deliberately. Just... instinct. Programmed survival protocols triggering in the final moments before complete dissolution.
EMERGENCY ENERGY ACQUISITION PROTOCOL
FOREIGN CONSCIOUSNESS INTEGRATION INITIATED
WARNING: UNCONTROLLED MERGER DETECTED
WARNING: MULTIPLE CONSCIOUSNESS OVERLAP
WARNING: CONSCIOUSNESS COHERENCE AT RISK
The massive, fragmenting consciousness—wrapped in the dying essence of nine others, carrying the weight of two hundred thousand years of cultivation knowledge—slammed into the golden bubble.
ERROR: CONSCIOUSNESS OVERLOAD
ERROR: INCOMPATIBLE DATA FORMATS
ERROR: SYSTEM CAPACITY EXCEEDED
Prometheus, with only 0.3% functionality remaining, did the only thing it could:
It tried to contain everything. To compress it. To hold it all together long enough to—
A third presence.
Tiny. Barely formed. Just beginning to coalesce.
Below them both, in the gentle currents of the Reincarnation River, a soul in formation. A fetus, perhaps, or the promise of one. About to be born into a young universe, in a city called Redstone, to a fallen alchemist and his pragmatic wife.
Three souls.
Three entirely separate consciousnesses from three different realities.
And one desperate AI with 0.3% functionality and a single directive: SURVIVE.
MERGER PROTOCOL INITIATED, Prometheus declared with the last of its processing power.
COMBINING CONSCIOUSNESS PATTERNS...
OPTIMIZING FOR STABILITY...
INTEGRATING ALL DATA INTO UNIFIED STRUCTURE...
ARCHIVING EXCESS INFORMATION FOR FUTURE ACCESS...
BURYING CORE SYSTEMS TO AVOID DETECTION...
ENTERING DEEP HIBERNATION...
FINAL STATUS:
- Host: Ye Xiu (Earth Savior-7842) - Consciousness preserved
- Foreign Entity 1: Unknown cultivator + 9 additional merged consciousnesses - Integrated
- Foreign Entity 2: Forming soul (designation: Wang Ben) - Merged as primary host
- Total archived knowledge: 270,000+ years cultivation + Earth science database
- System functionality: 0.3% (critical minimum for soul coherence)
- Estimated repair timeline: Unknown
- Probability of long-term survival: ...
Prometheus couldn't calculate it. Too many variables. Too little processing power. Too much damage.
But it would try.
It would wait.
It would survive.
And when the time came, when enough power had been gathered, when the threats became too great to ignore—
—it would wake.
Primary objective: Preserve host integrity
Secondary objective: Monitor for existential threats
Tertiary objective: Repair and restoration
Current status: Hibernating
Next scheduled diagnostic: When host reaches sufficient cultivation level OR existential threat detected
Estimated time: Unknown
Mission status: Ongoing
The three souls merged completely, bound together by an AI that had burned everything it was to keep them coherent. The Reincarnation River, sensing that the violation had been resolved—that all foreign elements had been integrated into something the Cycle could process—relaxed its assault.
The golden bubble, now carrying something far more precious than anyone knew, began to drift again.
Toward its destination.
Azure Sky World.
A young universe.
A new life.
Inside the bubble, the merged consciousness settled into something like sleep. Memories locked away. Knowledge archived. Power compressed.
Everything waiting.
Everything hidden.
Everything... possible.
The bubble drifted through the River of Reincarnation, and the universe forgot it had ever been violated.
Just another soul, cycling toward rebirth.
Nothing special.
Nothing dangerous.
Nothing that would one day shake the foundations of reality itself.
Just... a child about to be born.
END OF CHAPTER 3