At first, there was only the sound of breathing —
a rhythm that didn't belong in a perfect world.
He opened his eyes to a sunrise that had never existed before.
The light was soft, golden, painfully pure —
every ray calibrated, every shadow deliberate.
The System had rebuilt reality line by line,
sewing over its scars with precision code and corporate mercy.
Valis stood tall again.
The walls no longer bore the burn marks of rebellion.
The streets gleamed as if they'd never known war.
Players filled the squares, laughing, trading, living.
No one remembered.
No one could.
Aiden watched them from an alleyway, his reflection flickering across a chrome vendor's glass.
His code signature was blank now — no title, no threat level, no trace of the Infinite Demon.
To the world, he was just another anonymous NPC.
Disposable.
Reset.
But he remembered everything.
The screams, the fire, the light that erased existence itself.
The Oracle's whisper.
