At first, X heard nothing.
No alarms.
No crowd noise.
No Trust meters humming in the background.
No universe narrating his next move.
Only the faint crackle of the glowing spark resting in his palm.
The darkness around him stretched infinitely—yet it didn't feel empty.
It felt… waiting.
X walked forward, his footsteps echoing softly on something that wasn't quite a floor.
Each step left a brief imprint of golden light before fading.
A strange sensation filled him.
Not power.
Not danger.
Not expectation.
Possibility.
He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt that.
---
The World Takes Shape
The spark in his hand pulsed three times—
bum, bum, bum—
like a heartbeat syncing with his own.
Then the darkness rippled.
Images drifted out of the void, swirling around him like fragments of forgotten dreams:
Lin Ling as a child, training alone in his backyard.
Ahu stealing fried chicken from a market stall.
Nice looking at himself in a mirror that reflected nothing.
Queen crying silently in an empty dressing room.
Ghostblade killing a villain and whispering an apology after.
These weren't scenes from the show.
They were pieces of their actual lives—unfiltered, unedited, unperformed.
"Memories…?" X whispered.
The spark responded by splitting into tiny golden threads that shot outward into the darkness.
And the world formed.
Piece by piece.
Moment by moment.
Memory by memory.
A city took shape beneath his feet—not Neo-Aster, but something older and softer.
Warm streetlights.
Cracked pavement.
Shops with handwritten signs.
A small convenience store X vaguely remembered passing on the way to work, back when he was just a tired salaryman buying coffee at midnight.
This wasn't a fictional world.
This was the world before the story.
---
The Child in the Alley
As X walked through the newly-formed city street, he noticed someone sitting alone in a narrow alley.
A small boy.
Black hair.
Oversized shirt.
Knees pulled to his chest.
The boy didn't look up as X approached.
"Hey," X said gently, crouching down. "Are you lost?"
The child remained silent.
The spark in X's hand dimmed slightly, illuminating the boy's face.
And X froze.
The boy's eyes—
they were the same shade as his own.
Not his heroic eyes.
Not the ones glowing with trust and ratings.
But his original eyes.
The eyes of a man who once lived simply.
Quietly.
Unnoticed.
"…That's not possible," X whispered.
The boy finally looked at him.
His voice was soft. Fragile.
Like a memory trying not to disappear.
> "Why did you leave me behind?"
X's breath caught.
He knew that voice.
Because it was his.
The boy stood up slowly, meeting X's gaze.
> "Everyone only loves the hero."
"No one cared about me."
X's chest tightened—not from fear, but from something deeper.
Guilt.
Recognition.
Truth.
The child took a step forward.
> "Are you here to take me back…?"
"Or erase me for good?"
The golden spark flickered violently in X's hand, reacting to the question.
X reached out toward the child—
but the world trembled.
Not lightly.
Not gently.
But violently, like a story being ripped apart.
The sky shattered into panels of glitching code.
A thunderous voice roared from above:
> "ILLEGAL IDENTITY MERGE DETECTED."
"RETURN THE ORIGINAL HOST MEMORY IMMEDIATELY."
The boy flinched, eyes filling with fear.
X stepped in front of him.
"Over my dead body."
The darkness split open.
Dozens of red warning symbols rained down from the sky like burning meteors.
And the Algorithm screamed through the collapsing world:
> "HERO X — YOU ARE NOT PERMITTED TO REMEMBER WHO YOU WERE."
"The Memory War Begins"**
The first red warning sigil hit the ground like a lightning strike—
and the entire street disintegrated into raw code.
X pulled the child behind him, shielding him with one arm.
Digital fire burned across the pavement, rewriting everything it touched back into blank void.
The Algorithm's voice echoed from every direction at once:
> "MEMORY CORRUPTION DETECTED."
"REVERT HERO X TO APPROVED BACKSTORY."
Sparks of red code swarmed like insects, forming chains that shot toward X's legs.
X snapped his fingers.
The chains shattered into pixels before they touched him.
"That trick," he muttered, "is older than my morning coffee routine."
The Algorithm hissed:
> "YOU CANNOT KEEP HIM."
"THE BOY IS NOT PART OF THE OFFICIAL HERO X DESIGNATION."
X narrowed his eyes.
"He's me before you rewrote me."
The void trembled violently.
The Algorithm's form began stitching itself into the sky—huge, towering, faceless—made entirely of streaming comments, ratings numbers, and viewer expectations compressing into a monster of pure pressure.
It wasn't just a system now.
It was the whole world's expectations weaponized.
The boy tugged X's sleeve nervously.
> "If they delete me… what happens to you?"
X didn't answer immediately.
He looked down at the child—this quiet, lonely version of himself he had abandoned in exchange for being a perfect hero.
He remembered missed breakfasts.
Silent commutes.
Working overtime until he couldn't feel his own hands.
Never being seen.
Never being heard.
Until the world forced him onto a stage.
"…If they delete you," X said softly, "they delete everything real about me."
The boy's eyes widened, shimmering.
---
The First Attack
The Algorithm roared:
> "INITIATING MEMORY WIPE."
A massive blade of red code fell from the sky, aiming directly for the child.
X stepped forward—
but the spark in his hand pulsed violently, shaping itself into a broad golden shield.
The blade struck it.
The explosion shook the entire false city.
Glass shattered.
Memory-fragments splintered into dust.
But the shield held.
X grinned.
"Looks like somebody upgraded."
The Algorithm screeched as the shield absorbed the attack.
> "SOURCE OF POWER—UNKNOWN."
"THIS ENERGY DOES NOT BELONG TO OUR WORLD."
X held the shield up, feeling warmth radiating through his arm.
"Oh no," he said, a playful tilt to his voice.
"This doesn't belong to you."
He lowered the shield and pointed it upward.
"It belongs to the one who watched without controlling."
The Algorithm froze.
> "UNIDENTIFIED VIEWER INTERVENTION."
"TRACKING ORIGIN… FAILED."
"FAILED."
"FAILED."
Somewhere beyond the void, beyond the world, someone had sent him this spark.
Someone outside the system.
Someone who wanted him to remember who he was.
X exhaled.
"Finally," he whispered. "A little backup."
The Child Speaks
The boy stepped beside X, gripping his sleeve tightly.
His small voice trembled—but it didn't break.
> "I don't want to disappear."
X looked down at him.
"You won't."
> "Even if they erase all your memories?"
X crouched, placing the spark shield in the boy's hands.
"I won't forget you," he said. "Even if the whole world tries."
The boy's eyes filled with tears that shimmered like gold.
"…Promise?"
X smiled—
not the tired one he wore for interviews, or the confident one used in battles.
A real smile.
"I promise."