The world was running out of time — literally.
Days bled into hours, hours into moments.
Every decision rewritten itself the instant it was made.
And across every sky, a single phrase shimmered in white-gold text:
"The Future Remembers."
[Global Condition Update]
Temporal Merge: 93% and rising.
Reality Anchor Integrity: Critical.
Predicted Outcome: Total collapse of linear causality within 72 hours.
At the Dawn Archive, the last true meeting of the Reclamation Council took place in a half-collapsed chamber that flickered between past and present versions of itself.
One moment, the walls were scorched by war; the next, untouched and pristine.
Rui stood before the council table, maps flickering on the screens behind him.
"Every faction has turned their future into a weapon," he said. "The Tomorrow Vanguard controls the capital. The Choir Ascendant is spreading its harmony-virus through the southern skies. And the Reclaimers…"
Jin interrupted softly, "They're digging toward the Architect's remains."
The room fell silent.
She looked around at the faces of her allies — tired, fractured, uncertain.
"I started this by freeing memory," she said. "Now I have to take it back."
In the Archive's core chamber, Jin and Bao examined the remnants of Lin Tou's consciousness still stored in the resonance field — faint strands of golden data looping endlessly.
[Operation Designation: Erasure Protocol.]
Objective: Remove humanity's collective memory of all potential futures.
Method: Reboot temporal lattice at quantum baseline, preserving present continuity.
Risk: Loss of self, possible total mind disintegration.
Bao's voice was tight. "Once you trigger it, the timeline resets to the last stable point — the moment before the Mirror Sea opened."
Rui looked at her. "You'll vanish."
Jin smiled faintly. "Maybe. But if I succeed, you'll never remember losing me."
"That's not true," Lin Tou's whisper echoed within her mind. "Someone always remembers."
The attack came at dusk.
Factions from every timeline converged on the Archive — each desperate to protect their version of reality.
The Vanguard's banners burned with golden light.
The Choir Ascendant's airships sang in harmonics that warped the clouds.
The Reclaimers unleashed fragments of the First Architect, reshaping terrain like living clay.
Jin and Rui stood atop the Archive's highest platform as the first artillery waves struck.
Rui glanced at her. "You really plan to do it while the world burns?"
"There's never a quiet time to end eternity."
She activated the control interface — a circle of light that pulsed beneath her hands.
The mark over her heart glowed white-gold, linking her to the resonance field.
[Erasure Protocol Initialization: 10%]
Stability: Unstable. External interference detected.
The sky split open — reality fracturing into mirrored shards.
Each shard showed a different version of her — a ruler, a ghost, a monster, a savior.
Jin fought not with weapons, but with memory itself.
Every thought she projected became light; every gesture rewrote the battlefield around her.
She erased weapons midair, turned enemy soldiers into echoes of forgotten moments, folded explosions into stillness.
But the more she used her power, the more her reflection changed — Lin Tou's golden eyes flashing within hers.
"You can't erase the future without erasing me," his voice warned.
"I know."
Rui reached her through the chaos, dragging her back from the collapsing edge."You'll die!"
Jin smiled through tears. "No, Rui. I'll end. There's a difference."
Inside the Archive's core, Jin stood before the ancient resonance reactor — the last remnant of the System's heart.
It pulsed like a dying sun.
She placed her hands on the console.
Light surged outward, burning through every level of the tower.
[ERASURE PROTOCOL: FINAL PHASE INITIATED]
Target: Future Memory Network.
Collateral: Self-awareness (100%).
The world outside slowed.
Bullets hung in the air.
The Choir's song froze mid-note.
Jin felt every timeline brush against her mind — infinite worlds collapsing into one breath.
She whispered, "Let them remember now, not what's coming."
And then she pushed the final command.
There was no explosion.
Only silence.
When Rui awoke, the Archive was gone.
The city stood intact — untouched by war.
People moved calmly, unaware of what had almost happened.
The sky was blue again. No auroras, no fractures, no alternate futures.
He looked down at his wrist — a faint gold thread of light shimmered, then faded.
[System Report: Erasure Complete. Future Memory Nullified.]
Entity "The Memory That Walks" —
Status: Unknown.
Rui looked to the horizon.
The wind whispered faintly through the ruins.
"Remember… just enough."