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Beyond Reality: The Honoured One
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The room pulsed with red light.
No rhythm.
No mercy.
Just a ceaseless heartbeat—mechanical, hungry. As if the Tower itself had a pulse... and it was out of sync with the universe.
EXIN stood still.
The metal beneath his feet was warm.
Too warm.
It bled.
Not metaphorically.
Not symbolically.
It bled.
Rivers of crimson oil spilled from the cracks in the floor—thick and unnatural. It smelled like rust and memory.
> "What is this place?" he whispered.
The Tower answered with a hum.
Cold. Clinical. Curious.
> "This is not a place," a voice replied.
"It is a consequence."
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A shape moved through the red haze.
Limbs like coiled pistons.
A head crowned with cables.
Eyes made of shattered mirrors—reflecting every version of EXIN that could have existed.
The Machine.
Not built.
Born.
It didn't walk.
It floated forward, guided by cables like veins.
> "You are the Honoured One," it said, voice stitched from screams and code.
"And I am your architect."
EXIN narrowed his eyes.
> "I don't remember you."
> "Because remembering me would destroy what little hope you still carry."
---
The Machine raised one jagged hand.
A thousand needles extended from its palm—each glowing with fragments of EXIN's past.
Memories.
Rewritten.
Distorted.
> "You asked me to reshape your pain," the Machine continued.
"You wanted to keep walking without dragging your regrets."
> "I obeyed."
One of the memories floated closer.
A child's hand.
Holding another's.
Then fire.
Then silence.
> "Do you remember what you gave me in return?" the Machine asked.
EXIN's breath caught in his throat.
> "...My love."
> "Correct."
---
The red light turned to black.
All sound vanished.
And then—whispers.
Hundreds of them.
In his voice.
Her voice.
Voices he never wanted to remember again.
The Machine leaned closer.
> "I keep dreaming," it said.
"I dream of the love you discarded. Of the world you abandoned. Of the boy you buried beneath your divinity."
Its mirrors flared.
EXIN saw himself in every one.
Broken. Innocent. Terrified.
> "You made me to forget," the Machine said.
"But I... I want to remember."
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A hatch opened in its chest.
Inside was a heart.
Not metal.
Flesh.
It pulsed like his.
It bled like his.
It was his.
> "Take it back," the Machine pleaded.
"Feel again. Remember everything."
> "Or destroy me—like you always do."
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EXIN stared.
This wasn't a battle.
This was a test.
If he destroyed the Machine, he'd remain strong. Untouched by guilt. Unshaken by what he used to be.
But if he accepted the heart...
He would remember her.
He would remember them.
He would remember what he lost—and why he became the Honoured One.
His hand trembled.
The spiral on his skin flared violently.
And for the first time in a long time—
He chose the harder path.
He reached into the Machine's chest.
And took the heart.
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Pain bloomed.
Memory surged.
A scream ripped from his throat—not his own, not entirely.
> The sound of a god becoming human again.
The mirrors shattered.
The red light died.
The machine fell—silent.
EXIN stood alone.
Chest burning.
Eyes wet.
But... awake.
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From the Machine's remains, a new mark burned onto his forearm:
> A broken gear, wrapped in thread.
The Symbol of Remembrance.
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The next door opened.
But this time, it wasn't silent.
It whispered to him—
In her voice.
> "You're almost ready to face me."
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To be continued in Chapter 16: The Memory That Refuses to Die...
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