The crimson light didn’t just illuminate the square; it felt like a physical weight, a crushing pressure that made the very air hum with the sound of a billion bees. The "Total Format" had begun. This wasn't a reorganization or a harvest—it was the digital equivalent of a scorched-earth policy. Aris Vance, my father, the man who had built my life out of lies, was now the fire that would end it
The Overseer, that cold, silver Architect who had mocked me moments ago, was the first to realize the scale of the catastrophe. He stared at the red cracks spidering across his own liquid-silver skin, his clinical composure dissolving into a digital scream.
"Aris! You fool!" the Overseer shrieked. "You're targeting the Root! You'll destroy the Archive! The history of humanity... everything we’ve ha
