SYSTEM RECORD UPDATED
Entity Classified: False God — Status: Defeated
Compensation Granted: Growth (Physical / Cognitive)
Condition Met: Survival against an impossible threat
Adaptive Rewriting: In progress
Do not resist.
The window lingered longer than it should have.
I sat outside the chapel, my back against cold stone, breathing slowly—unevenly. My body felt… altered. Not stronger. Not empowered.
Aware.
The past pressed in—not as memories, but as weight. Every mistake stacked neatly atop the last. No release. No triumph. Just continuation.
The system remained.
Watching.
Footsteps broke the silence. Careful. Unhurried.
Someone sat beside me. The stone dipped slightly under his weight.
"I know what this feels like," the man said softly. "When the world keeps moving, but you don't."
I didn't answer.
"You adapt," he continued. "Without permission. Without choice. Most people break before that point."
A controlled breath.
"I've seen it happen before."
Silence.
"My son," he said. "His name was Kyle."
The system flickered.
Name registered.
"He was like you," the man went on. "Stepped forward before fear arrived."
A pause.
"He died in my arms."
His voice didn't crack. That was worse.
"Heretics," he added distantly.
My jaw tightened.
I turned just enough to see him.
The Bishop.
"Are you trying to make me feel something?" I asked.
"Feeling is irrelevant," he replied. "Belief is irrelevant."
He finally looked at me. His eyes were empty—not cruel, not kind. Evaluating.
"To me, you are still a heretic."
The system pulsed.
Hostile designation acknowledged.
"But power," the Bishop said, "is never random."
His voice lowered—not threatening. Certain.
"Timing like this doesn't happen by accident. You arrived when the world could no longer wait."
The chapel loomed behind us—silent stone, sealed doors.
"You were placed here," he continued. "Given abilities tailored too precisely to this era to deny."
A humorless smile.
"You can reject it. Pretend you are free."
He leaned closer, not touching.
"But meaning doesn't require consent."
The system responded.
Psychological stress detected.
Growth parameter accelerating.
Endure.
The Bishop stood.
"Think carefully, heretic," he said. "Trust no one. Attachment is the only thing that will stop you from becoming a monster."
He paused.
"And the only thing that will make you one."
He stepped away, then stopped.
"I will not allow you to fall to evil," he said quietly.
"And if you do…"
His voice sharpened—not anger. Duty.
"I will end you."
His footsteps faded.
The system window remained.
Observation ongoing.
Do not deviate.
The chapel bells did not ring.
Nothing moved.
And for the first time, I understood—
The system wasn't guiding me.
It was waiting.
I walked. No destination. Just motion.
The nearest park was empty. I sat on a bench facing the artificial pond. The water was too still—no ripples, no insects, no sound.
Silence without comfort.
I exhaled slowly.
Sometimes, you should just let things happen.
"What the fu—"
The shout escaped before I could stop it.
She was already there.
Too close.
The girl laughed.
"Relax," she said. "You looked like you were arguing with the universe."
My heart adjusted late. Sloppy.
I hadn't heard her approach.
That disturbed me more than the surprise.
The pond reflected us—distorted, broken by weak light.
The system stirred.
Environmental awareness recalibrating.
Anomaly detected.
She swung her legs, eyes on the water.
"You know," she said, "sometimes you really should let things happen."
The words landed heavier than they should have.
The silence shifted.
Not empty.
Intentional.
She looked wrong. Pale in a way illness couldn't explain.
The trees stood unnaturally still. The air refused to move.
"So," I said finally, voice low, guarded, "what are you doing here? And you don't look okay."
"Hehehe."
Her giggle didn't echo. It just… stopped.
"My name is Mona Parker," she said brightly. "Call me Mona."
She extended her hand—palm open, fingers thin, unnaturally cold-looking.
I didn't move.
Her smile widened.
"Come on. I won't bite."
She wiggled her fingers. "Handshake."
Something crawled up my spine.
I reached out—
Then stopped.
"No," I said. "I'm fine. Someone in your condition shouldn't be here."
For a moment, disappointment flickered across her face. Then she smiled again.
"It's okay," she said softly. "I need air sometimes. Otherwise I suffocate… at the orphanage."
My mood shifted instantly.
She swayed.
Weak.
She collapsed.
I caught her.
"Do you need help?" I asked.
Mona looked up at me, eyes unfocused.
"Can you take me back?"
I hesitated only a second.
If it was a trap, I'd survive. If it wasn't… leaving her wasn't an option.
I lifted her carefully.
"Where?"
"The South Cathedral Orphanage of Mother Mary," she whispered.
I nodded.
I'd heard of it. Church-controlled. Only a few kilometers away.
I carried her the entire distance.