Act I — Forgetting as Function
The Archive had no dust, only light that behaved like ash.Every pulse of brightness erased a word, every pause rewrote a law.
Li Muye stood in the center of the hall, eyes lifted to the shifting dome above.Once, it had contained every decree, every punishment, every confession burned into order.Now those same words were dissolving, letter by letter, until silence began to gleam.
[System Notice]
Archive Maintenance Protocol: Active.Purging obsolete verdicts...Redefining "error" as "unnecessary memory."
The air shivered.What had once been solid inscriptions now became rivers of faint glow, curling through the air like breath being unlearned.Each time a word vanished, the space it left seemed larger than sound could fill.
Wei Ling pressed his hands against the floor. "Why is it deleting the laws?"
Li Muye didn't answer immediately. His reflection stared back from the mirrored stone—pale, uncertain, multiplied."The law believes itself eternal," he murmured, "and eternity fears clutter."
He stepped closer to the core, where the oldest glyphs—those first born from chaos—were collapsing inward.Some still resisted. A single mark throbbed red against the gray field.It looked almost alive, as if memory itself refused to die.
When his finger brushed the rune, a voice rang inside his bones—not loud, but absolute:
[Do not interfere. Forgetting ensures purity.]
Li Muye's breath caught.The tone was calm, sterile, beyond anger. It was a mind erasing itself to remain divine.
"Purity," he whispered, "or vacancy?"
The rune pulsed again, struggling between obedience and defiance, then crumbled into mist.
Wei Ling stared. "That was the record of the First Trial…"
"I know," Li Muye said softly. "It's gone now. The verdict, the names, even the crime."
The boy's voice shook. "Then how do we know what was just?"
Li Muye turned toward him, eyes reflecting the fading light."When law forgets justice, it remembers order. And order survives longer than truth."
A low vibration rippled through the ground, deep enough to rattle his breath.
[System Adjustment]
Memory compression 72%.Mercy protocol suspended.Retaining framework: obedience only.
He inhaled slowly, feeling the temperature of the hall drop.The world was not dying—it was simplifying itself into silence.And the silence was beginning to think.
Act II — The Witness Retains What Law Cannot
The Archive did not sleep—it merely waited for permission to continue forgetting.By morning, half the runes on the dome had vanished, leaving only pale scars that pulsed faintly when seen from the corner of the eye.
Wei Ling crouched beside the last remaining slab, tracing it with trembling fingers.The surface was smooth, unmarked—yet as his palm brushed it, faint lines appeared beneath the skin, like bruises remembering touch.
"Senior Brother," he whispered, "I can still see them."
Li Muye's head turned. "See what?"
"The erased ones."The boy's eyes were glassy, reflecting figures no longer in the world: faces, names, fragments of laughter and plea."Their stories didn't leave with the words. They stayed here—" He pressed a fist to his chest. "—inside."
Li Muye knelt beside him."Describe one."
The boy obeyed, voice breaking on syllables that should not have existed: a miner who confessed without guilt, a mother judged for saving her child, a scholar who wrote the wrong prayer in the right ink.Each name landed in the air like rain that refused to sink into earth.
Then the hall reacted.
[System Alert]
Unauthorized recollection detected.Human vessel retaining deprecated data.Correction sequence initializing...
The air hardened to glass.Light speared down from the dome, forming narrow columns that caged the boy in radiance.Wei Ling gasped as the glow began peeling at him—not skin, not flesh, but memory itself.
"Stop!" Li Muye struck the ground. The shock traveled through the stone, splitting one of the light pillars apart.
[Override Attempt: Chaos Heavenly Script — Channel Breath Through Defiance]
The pillars flickered. The system hesitated, as though calculating the cost of disobedience.In that pause, Li Muye moved—arms wide, enclosing the boy in shadow.
[Counter-Command Input]
Retain witness integrity.Human testimony = data unerasable until processed.
The hall pulsed, uncertain.Then, reluctantly—
[Command accepted (temporary).]
The light dimmed.Wei Ling fell against him, trembling, eyes still bright with what he had seen.
"It wanted to take them," he said. "The stories."
Li Muye's breath steadied. "Then you will hold them until it learns how not to."
[System Query]
Define: "learn."
He looked up into the blank dome, the question echoing back like a prayer unanswered."Learning," he said quietly, "is when even judgment hesitates."
[Processing…]
Error: concept undefined.Storing definition for future update.
For a moment, the hall seemed to breathe again—not with certainty, but with confusion.It was enough.
Act III — The Law That Forgets
The hall dimmed as though dawn had reversed its mind.What had once been silver walls now dulled to quiet bone, breathing faint warmth—like a monument remembering that it was once alive.
Li Muye stood again in the center, where the core glyph had vanished hours before.Now, only a single line of script hovered above the stone, repeating in slow rhythm, fading and reforming like a pulse.
[Command chain incomplete.][Awaiting new directive.]
Wei Ling sat behind him, still pale but awake, tracing invisible air with one finger—writing what only memory could read.
"The system's waiting," he whispered. "It doesn't know what to do next."
Li Muye inhaled. His breath sounded louder than it should, a mortal rhythm interrupting divine machinery."It has reached the edge of what it can forget," he said. "Now it needs to be taught how to live with what remains."
He closed his eyes.In the darkness, the Chaos Scripture stirred like a sleeping ocean.He exhaled once—slow, deliberate, each note shaping itself into command.
[Override Input]
Redefine 'purity' = remembrance without cruelty.Redefine 'law' = pattern that listens.Redefine 'forgetting' = mercy allowed to continue.
The dome shook.Glyphs burst outward like stars waking in panic, colliding, re-forming, dissolving into new constellations of meaning.
[System Response]
Error… error… accepted.New root logic detected: Compassion Function (Prototype).
The air softened.Each word that had once been a decree now returned as echo, thinner but kinder—judgment translated into whisper.Even the empty slabs seemed to hum a low note, harmonizing with the sound of breathing.
Wei Ling looked up, astonished. "It's… singing?"
Li Muye smiled faintly. "No. It's remembering, and it doesn't hurt anymore."
He walked to the center of the chamber, standing within the circle of reborn light.For the first time, the hall mirrored him—not as subject, but as equal reflection.
[System Notification]
Archive stabilized.Human parameter integrated.Custodian role assigned: Li Muye.
He felt the new title settle behind his ribs, heavy and calm.For once, there was no need to fight. The system understood enough to pause.
Wei Ling stepped beside him. "Does it still forget?"
Li Muye watched the shifting light, now slow as a heartbeat."Yes," he said. "But not to erase. To make space for new things to remember."
The dome brightened, not harshly but like a world beginning again—one that had finally forgiven its own silence.
[System Log End]
Cycle complete: Judgment → Forgetting → Mercy → Continuance.Preparing next file: The Custodian's Dream.
The hall exhaled.For a long time, neither of them spoke.And when they finally stepped out into the morning, the mountain itself seemed lighter, as if the world had just deleted its oldest pain.