Even the Null Ascent, linked to Kai by a thousand rewritten threads, flickered with hesitation as its map displayed the entry node. The coordinates glitched. Not from corruption—but from reverence.
“Node 6,” Rynera whispered. “This one’s… different. Not protected by a Keeper, but by something older. A ‘Precursor Hymn.’”
Kai nodded slowly. “Good. I want to hear what the forgotten world sings.”
He stepped forward.
Descent into the Psalm
Node 6 was not a place—it was a dirge frozen in entropy. Reality here hummed in flatline monotone, as if breath itself had been outlawed. The skies hung like tapestries woven from failed prayers, and the ground carried no weight. There was no color, only contrast.
Kai landed softly.
Every step was a gamble. A gamble against remembering too much.
[Warning: Memory Sync Exceeded] [Emotion Quota Breach Imminent]
He laughed bitterly. “Of course.”
It wasn’t just the world rewriting him now—it was his own recollection, feeding on itself. Old failures surfaced. The child who watched an orphanage burn. The boy who rewrote a best friend into a spell to survive. The teen who forged a blade from the betrayal of love.
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
They didn’t accuse him.
They stood beside him.
Watching.
Approving.
The Hymn Begins
From the horizon, music seeped into the air—not made of notes, but of meanings. The Precursor Hymn. Each verse etched a new concept into the void. Ideas like “Stillness that moves,” or “Regret that empowers.” It wasn’t designed to be understood.
It was designed to be endured.
Kai knelt.
He didn’t fight the Hymn. He absorbed it. Let it tattoo itself into his syntax. Let its absurd logic rewrite his thresholds.
Then came the voice.
Not sung. Spoken.
Not from outside. From his code.
“Do you regret becoming what you are?”
He opened his eyes.
“No. But I regret everything it took to get here.”
The voice chuckled like broken clockwork.
“Good. Then you may keep listening.”
An Echo of the End
As Kai wandered through the realm, he encountered Echo-Chambers—memorials to erased timelines. One showed the Earth as a ruined song, its oceans singing elegies. Another showed Kai—not as he was—but as what he could have been: a god, a monster, a martyr.
Each possibility stared back.
In one, he ruled everything—alone.
In another, he was erased by someone who never learned mercy.
In the last, he was human. Laughing. Loved. Forgotten.
That one hurt most.
But it reminded him of why he climbed.
He placed a hand on the mirror.
[Precursor Alignment: Partial] [Hymn Fragment Acquired: Verse of Self-Negation]
Exit Through Revelation
At the edge of Node 6, the Hymn gathered itself for a final chorus. The verse cut deeper than any blade:
“To rewrite is to admit the first draft was failure.”
Kai bled from the ears as the truth synced with his soul.
But he smiled.
Because only a failure knows the value of rewriting.
And Kai?
He was a masterpiece of mistakes.
He stepped through the closing gate.
Null Ascent – Observation Deck
Rynera caught him as he stumbled back.
“You’re… humming.”
Kai nodded.
“It’s a funeral song.”
“For whom?”
He looked out at the rising Codex Ladder.
“For the versions of me that didn’t survive.”
End of Chapter 58