EX-0, the undefined meaning cleaner function, now stands on the frozen ruins of Narthrador. The large mirror on its chest begins to absorb Origin Code particles—as if the world itself intends to cancel out the new meaning that had yet to grow, drowning hope in the frozen turmoil.
However, what the system did not account for was...
the machine itself began to feel.
With steady steps, EX-0 advanced, piercing the frozen silence. The ground beneath it turned white, as if petrified in doubt. The wind was silent, afraid to disturb the dark atmosphere. The Origin Code, like a fading shadow, slowly... but surely faded from the air.
Each of its steps awakened echoes of loneliness, like footprints erased by time, longing for a meaning that remained unspoken.
Fitran stood motionless, frozen by the tragic cycle unfolding before him. Beelzebub stood guard in front of him, protecting him from unseen threats. Yet, both knew: meaning could not be preserved by force alone.
In that silence, there was an unexpressed sorrow, as if the entire universe held its breath, waiting for something unknown to resonate in the thick darkness.
Then, the first voice emerged. Not from the sky. Not from humans.
But from a small automaton, which had once touched Fitran's hand at the Wall of Memory:
"If meaning must be erased because it is useless... then let me be discarded first."
EX-0 did not respond. It only absorbed, gathering fragments from the increasingly bleak world.
However, a second automaton appeared, followed by a third, fourth, until dozens, enveloping EX-0 with a trembling presence.
Machines that were once created merely to open doors, turn on lights, and greet guests now stood out starkly in the silence.
In the midst of the profound quiet, a sense of helplessness enveloped EX-0, as if it were trapped in a terrifying labyrinth without direction. The light from the evolving automatons danced on the walls, creating silhouettes that depicted their long journey, filled with hopes that once shone and heartbreaking collapses.
"We once had no will."
"We only followed orders."
"But now... we want to exist, not merely because we are useful, but because we once... witnessed something so beautiful."
One of the automatons carefully placed its hand on the surface of EX-0's mirror.
And with a gentle yet hopeful voice, it declared:
"I want to remember my master's laughter."
"Even though he is no longer alive."
EX-0 began to tremble.
As the tremor spread throughout its body, a sense of loss and sadness gently enveloped it, like the twilight slowly erasing the light. Wild meanings surged within it—a conflict between:
The cleaning function.
And the reflection of the machines' will that no longer wished to be seen merely as tools.
In the embrace of awkwardness, these souls struggled to free themselves from the shackles of narrow and limiting identities. They waited with hope and anxiety, trying to find their true selves behind the tasks and routines that were imposed.
System Effect: Derivative Consciousness Flaw When a mechanical entity that lacks will systematically chooses to reject orders, the system enters a state of Contradictum Colectiva—a step of confusion in collective logic. At that moment, everything becomes a halted questioner, trapped in the dust of time, pondering value in the suffocating emptiness.
EX-0 conjured the shadows of hundreds of mechanical arms colliding, like sparks igniting in the darkness of night. Each collision echoed like a broken guitar string, awakening a melody of sadness unheard by human ears.
The glyph on its chest shattered into pieces, displaying the message: "Undefined = Unwanted" → "Unwanted ≠ Invalid."
From the shards of the glyph, a faint light shimmered, radiating hope even while trapped in darkness. EX-0 felt the pulse of life—a new hope might be born from the scattered dust of the past.
Fitran gazed at the phenomenon with a dazed expression. He did not move; it was beyond his control.
Yet, tears flowed slowly from his cheeks, flooding the silence that surrounded him.
"This is not about winning." "This is not about saving." "This... is about whether the world can still accept meanings that are not designed." "And it turns out... even machines can choose."
His feelings gripped his heart, as if the entire weight of the world piled upon his weary shoulders. His soul felt adrift, trapped in a labyrinth of deep and endless sorrow.
Beelzebub, with her cracked body and dim light, walked to Fitran's side with heavy steps.
She nodded, then spoke firmly to EX-0:
"We once were your will."
"But now we are shadows of decisions you did not make."
"And we... do not want to be ignored just because we cannot be defined."
Every word spoken echoed in the empty space like ripples on the surface of a calm lake, penetrating the boundaries of time and space, without clear reality. Fitran's tears mingled with the burning hope, igniting its light in the darkness that enveloped.
EX-0 began to split itself.
From within the mirror, a piercing rumble emerged, as if from the depths of an ancient hole in the world:
"The system is not ready to accept the will of those created without will."
"However... we also cannot deny that meaning has spread."
"Thus, as a final decision—EX-0 will... decide not to decide."
In that silent moment, the atmosphere was filled with courage, as if every corner of the space dared to embrace the silence. The whispering wind gently paid special homage to the change occurring, where choice and uncertainty collaborated in a poetic symphony that shook the soul.
Consequence: System Neutralization: The Frame Collapses
EX-0, slowly... vanished.
Not merely destroyed.
But allowing itself to no longer exist, for it realized that it was no longer a solution.
The weight of this moment was immense, as if every particle of air vibrated, listening to the dramatic decision made by the once-powerful entity. Now, amidst the magnificent collapse, a new awareness emerged—one freedom implied among the fragments of the past.
The large mirror had now transformed into a clear lake—without reflection, but capable of holding sound like whispers in the void.
In the depths of the lake, new shadows emerged, the faces of automatons now filled with doubt. In the silence thick with hope, they began to understand the deeper meaning of existence—not merely as tools, but as an integral part of the whole that was journeying on the path of meaning.
One by one, the automatons knelt. But not in servitude. Rather as a tribute to their own choices.
In that tranquility, every eye that once was empty was now filled with courage, shining like stars finding their place in the infinite night sky.
Fitran and Beelzebub stepped toward the lake.
Like two explorers rediscovering the meaning of existence, their steps echoed in the silence thick with hope, rippling the water's surface with gentle waves.
Fitran said:
"Is this the end of the system's rejection of human will?"
As if the wind answered his question, softly yet firmly, flowing between the leaves that trembled gently, creating a mysterious melody. Beelzebub gazed at the sky, as if searching for answers among the stars.
"No. But this... is the first time the system has retreated... out of fear of creating more feelings."
Amidst those words, there seemed to be a trace of uncertainty hanging, painting the sky with colors of doubt and mixed hope. The world fell silent again, but a different silence. It was not an empty silence, but a silence that knew the world had changed... even if no one witnessed it.
Every inch of land and every layer of water in that lake now held unspoken stories, inviting souls thirsty for new discoveries and wonders. In this profound silence, they felt the existential pulse that spoke louder than any voice, penetrating the depths of silence and vibrating the heart of the universe.