The world broke at the edges.
Where the forest ended, the sky didn't.
It just stopped rendering.
Aiden stood before the horizon's fracture — a wall of static that bled light and shadow in equal measure. The trees behind him shimmered, half-real, half-forgotten, like ghosts still trying to remember what shape they once had.
He took a step forward, and the glitch pulsed in response — as if the world itself flinched.
> [Warning: You are leaving valid data boundaries.]
[Proceed?]
He smiled faintly. "Proceed."
The world shattered.
He stepped into the Null Layer — the space between code and creation.
It wasn't a place meant for eyes. The ground was a sea of fragmented geometry; cubes and fractals shifted like living terrain beneath his feet. The air itself whispered in programming tongues — endless lines of logic, half-collapsed, half-screaming.
Each breath tasted of memory decay and electric rain.
