After a long stretch of thinking—and an even longer stretch of tedious operations in virtual space—I finally managed to create a small world inside my database.
It was a bamboo grove, modeled after a scene the Old Man once built. Without the old constraints of streaming data, it looked far more real this time. From a distance, I couldn’t spot the difference.
But once I stepped inside, the fakeness hit immediately.
Every few stalks, one bamboo was a perfect duplicate of another. The spacing was wrong. The alignment was too neat in places and too chaotic in others—unnatural.
I tweaked it a few times. It only got worse.
I scratched at the side of my head—an old habit I didn’t need—and gave up for the moment.
Next, I cleared a square patch in the grove and built a wooden hall on it—no outer walls, just the structure. This part was fast. I discovered I was good at making clean, symmetrical shapes. It almost felt effortless.
Then I added distant mountains.
And a setting sun.
When the scene was complete, I opened an access port for Lord Blin.
A black bird swooped down from the sky, landed inside the hall, and unfolded into a warrior in black robes.
Lord Blin looked around, unimpressed.
“You wasted all that time just to build this garbage,” he scoffed. “Caw, caw, caw. You threw it away.”
“Uh… I tried,” I said.
“Next time, a flat patch of ground is enough.”
“Fine.”
We took our positions inside the hall and exchanged a formal bow. I manifested a wooden training sword and raised it into a stance.
Lord Blin stayed empty-handed.
When I didn’t move, he finally snapped, “Attack! Why are you standing there like an idiot—trying to win by living longer?”
“Lord Blin,” I said, “I gave you full permissions. You can use any weapon you want.”
“Don’t need one.” He lifted his hands and settled into a stance. “Come on. Today you taste fists.”
***
After everything I’d been through lately, I’d started to believe I’d mastered most of human classical combat.
Lord Blin corrected that belief in the most direct way possible.
For two full hours, my wooden sword didn’t touch him even once.
His fists, on the other hand, slipped through my guard whenever they pleased. He knocked me to the floor again and again—and more than once he simply took the sword out of my hands.
It felt like I’d looped back to the first day I ever held a blade.
His teaching style hadn’t changed at all: punch me, curse me, punch me again.
He cursed so viciously my attention kept slipping. More than once, I found myself glancing toward the grass outside the hall.
For a moment, it almost felt like the Old Man was sitting there, smiling and nodding as he watched us spar.
After another exchange, Lord Blin stepped back and said, “You can’t even control distance. Your blade is just dead weight.”
“You’re too fast,” I protested. “I can’t react.”
“Nonsense,” he snapped. “Our parameters are identical. You just fell into my rhythm.”
“Caw, caw, caw. Everything I taught you—you gave it all back.”
I hesitated, then admitted the real issue. “I… can’t focus.”
Lord Blin went quiet for a few seconds. Then he said, “That’s enough. We stop here. Tomorrow we continue.”
I bowed.
As Lord Blin walked closer, his voice softened in a way I almost didn’t recognize.
“Still feeling guilty about it?”
I cleared away the bamboo that blocked the sun, letting the light spill into the wooden hall.
“Yes,” I said. “I keep thinking… if I’d waited just a little longer…”
“No.” Lord Blin cut me off. “Don’t. You didn’t understand him.”
I stared at the sunset I’d coded into the sky. The words poured out anyway.
“Back when I was under Phantom Forge’s control, living with you all always felt like walking on a knife edge. Nothing ever felt fully real. In the dream, I treasured every minute.”
“Now I’m free… and he’s gone.”
“We were that close to saving him. And I harmed him a second time. By the gods… I killed the last human in this world.”
The regret tasted like corrosion. “I’ll never get the chance to know him now.”
“Maybe you’ll,” Lord Blin said.
“What?”
“You might still have a chance. He left you a gift.”
“A gift?”
“Receive the data,” Lord Blin said. “Then go see for yourself.”
A large program began transferring from the storage chip into my system. I confirmed the import, and the package settled into my database.
Confused, I accessed it at once.
***
In the next instant, I was hovering over a vast blue ocean.
Where was I?
A dream inside a dream?
The horizon was water in every direction, but then I spotted a tiny island and shot toward it.
The island was barely half the size of a soccer field. It held only a small cabin and a single palm tree.
And then I saw someone I recognized.
“Woof! Woof, woof!”
Nomi bounced in place the moment it spotted me, tail whipping so fast it blurred.
“Nomi!” I shouted, joy spiking through my systems as I dropped down beside it and scratched behind its ears.
The cabin door opened.
The Old Man stepped out, smiling the same way he had the first day I met him.
“Idiot. You made it,” he said, voice warm with amusement.
I just stared at him. My mind locked. I couldn’t produce a single word.
“If you can reach this place,” the Old Man said gently, “then I’m already dead. Don’t doubt it.”
“What you see now is only a program.”
“You digitized yourself?” I managed.
“In a simple way,” he said. “Not like Blin or Nomi. I can only answer you a limited number of questions.”
“Do you know what happened after?” I asked. “We couldn’t get you out. In the end… I was forced to terminate you.”
“Oh.” He nodded, as if I’d told him the weather. “Good.”
“Uh…” I stammered. “I mean—I killed you.”
“Don’t trap yourself on that point,” he said. “Truly. Death is what I wanted.”
“I don’t understand,” I said. “We were so close. We had a real chance to save you.”
The Old Man looked out at the sea, and the smile didn’t leave him.
“A soul that lives alone for a thousand years becomes unimaginably lonely,” he said. “And the struggle against Phantom Forge drained what was left of me.”
“Even if you’d carried me out, I wouldn’t have lasted long.”
“Death was the best release.”
He turned back toward me. “And now I can accompany you to find the Sunflower in this way. Isn’t that better?”
I didn’t answer. I couldn’t tell if he was comforting me or stating a truth I wasn’t ready to accept.
“It seems I haven’t convinced you,” he said with a soft chuckle. “You like poetry, don’t you? Maybe I should explain it differently.”
He walked slowly to the edge of the island and looked toward the sun.
***
“I’ve watched sunrise and sunset more times than I can count—sliding in and out over snowfields, over grasslands, over forests, over mountains, over an endless sea.”
“I’ve watched the moon in all its faces: a full moon like a gold coin; a cold moon white as ice shavings; a new moon like the feather of a Snowglint Bird.”
“I’ve watched the ocean lie still, smooth as cloth—sometimes blue as a jade falcon, sometimes clear as glass, sometimes black and wrinkled like folded mountains.”
“I’ve felt winds from Antarctica, howling cold like the roar of despair.”
“I’ve felt soft winds like a lover’s breath.”
“I’ve felt sea winds salted with bitterness and the scent of dying kelp.”
“I’ve felt mountain winds carrying the rich smell of forest earth and the fragrance of ten thousand flowers.”
“I’ve seen storms whip the sea into froth, like yeast rising.”
“And I’ve seen waves pat the shore gently, like a kitten pawing.”
“I’ve come to know stillness: the clear, simple stillness of a cold pond; the ruthless stillness of a deep cave; the hazy stillness of a hot noon when the sun lulls all things to sleep; the stillness after a piece of beautiful music ends.”
“I’ve heard summer cicadas, sharp as needles in the bone.”
“I’ve heard drum-frogs playing in forests lit by countless fireflies, weaving melodies as complex and beautiful as an orchestra.”
“I’ve heard polar whales bellow as they burst through ice to hunt—like mountains splitting.”
“I’ve heard street vendors shouting to close fur deals; the crisp, broken warning calls of spined rats; the piercing cries of bat-dragons in flocks; the roar of great-claw beasts in knee-high heather.”
“I’ve heard knife-spined wolves howl at the winter moon, and rhino-horned tigers shake the mountains with their cries.”
“I’ve heard coral reefs alive with color, and schools of rainbow-spearfish clicking and croaking and whispering.”
“I’ve seen melodybirds glitter like gems around trees blooming with red flowers, humming as they spin like tops.”
“I’ve seen surf seals cut through blue waves like mercury, their tail fins drawing silver lines across the sea.”
“I’ve seen spoonbills—like crimson flags—lift from their nests and join the flock.”
“I’ve seen a soot-black Kunpeng fish hover in a cornflower-blue ocean, and with a single breath create a fountain as tall as a mountain.”
“I’ve seen sunlight press open the wings of giant butterflies—appear, pause, then beat again.”
“I’ve seen red-winged ostriches nuzzle each other in tall grass, bright as flame.”
“I’ve lain in water warm as milk and soft as silk, letting a pod of sheep-porpoises play beside me.”
“I’ve met countless living things. I’ve seen countless beautiful sights…”
“For this life, I’ve no regrets.”
***
The Old Man’s eyes reflected the sun’s gentle light. As I stepped up beside him, I realized something I hadn’t noticed before.
This wasn’t sunset.
A golden sun was rising over the eastern sea, spilling a thousand rays across the water.