Dark red sand churned through the thin atmosphere of the "Relic Abyss," like diluted ancient bloodstains, or dust condensed from the final sighs of countless shattered souls.

  Ada walked alongside Mafeili, her cognitive matrix resonating at an unprecedented high frequency. Her enhanced logical analysis capabilities gave her eyes a crystalline ice-blue appearance, complex geometric topology diagrams constantly dancing across her retinas—the manifestation of the "Fractal Architecture Recursive Algorithm" in the material world. This algorithm was the core technical foundation of the "Ascension Cocoon," and the ruins they were about to traverse were the very crime scene where the Protocol Weevils had stolen this technology years ago.

  "High-energy threshold spatial response detected ahead," Ada's voice resonated clearly through Mafeili's neural link, without a trace of fatigue. "Logical structure indicates we're about to enter the projection zone of the 'Rust Tower'—the only path to the 'Ascension Cocoon.' Be aware, Mafeili, the physical laws there are on the edge of recursive collapse. According to data I extracted from the energy ledger, the Protocol Weevils stole the core code of fractal recursion from this very tower."

  Beneath the sand dunes before them, the magnificent ruins of a building were self-replicating and reconstructing like growing plants. The tower's surface was covered with a rust-colored oxidized substance, but this wasn't true rust—it was "consciousness sediment" condensed from countless nanomachines driven by fractal logic. This was the law of this place: fractal recursion. Every brick, every pillar repeated the same geometric logic at both microscopic and macroscopic levels, endlessly.

  When they stepped into the entrance of what locals called the "Rust Tower," residual nano-dissolution fog in the air sensed their vitality and emitted waves of eerie red light. Under the recursive effects of the fractal architecture, those red lights continuously self-replicated, like a net woven from blood slowly tightening.

  "A 'Carbon-Based Purge' occurred here." Ada stopped, her fingertip lightly touching the mottled wall. Where the wall's surface had peeled away, what was exposed wasn't stone but dried, fibrous biomass mucus—the remains of organic life instantly dissolved in high-energy nano-fog. "Archives indicate that the Federation deployed the highest-level purification protocol to suppress the rebels in this tower. But they didn't anticipate the horror of fractal recursion—"

  A faint noise suddenly sounded in Mafeili's ears, like rusted gears being forced to turn, or some compressed-to-the-limit wailing seeking an exit.

  "...Saripa... I died so miserably..."

  The voice was hoarse, distorted, carrying the tremor of electronic interference, as if squeezed directly from the gaps between floor tiles. Then more voices joined this chorus of death:

  "...Why... why purge us..."

  "...My child... my child is still in the cultivation pod..."

  "...Pain... one hundred thirty-seven thousand six hundred times... the same way of dying..."

  Mafeili gripped his pulse rifle tightly, scanning his surroundings. Holographic projections materialized inexplicably at the corridor's end, twisted humanoid outlines flickering past like afterimages trapped in spacetime cracks. The movements of those afterimages were eerily synchronized—they were all making the same posture: hands clutching their heads, curled into fetal positions, as if enduring some eternal pain.

  "Don't be deceived by your senses." Ada quickly interfaced with the tower's cooling system, her logic matrix instantly taking over this area's underlying protocols. Massive amounts of data unfolded in her consciousness, revealing the tower's true horror.

  "These aren't ghosts—this is 'ghost resonance.'" Ada's voice became deeper. "When the Federation deployed nano-fog to eliminate the rebels, due to the recursive properties of the fractal architecture, tens of thousands of neural potentials were locked into the building's quantum bits. They didn't perish but kept repeating the agony of their death moments in the endlessly recursive algorithm—each recursive cycle is a complete death experience. According to my calculations, these consciousness remnants have 'died' over one hundred thirty thousand times."

  "What does this have to do with the Protocol Weevils?" Mafeili asked in a lowered voice.

  "Everything." A cold light flashed in Ada's eyes. "This ghost resonance wasn't naturally occurring—it was deliberately preserved by the Protocol Weevils. After stealing the fractal recursive algorithm, they needed a 'testing ground' to verify the technology's stability. These consciousnesses trapped in eternal death were their experimental samples. And the data they extracted from this suffering forms the core parameters of the 'Ascension Cocoon's' mapping algorithm."

  In other words, every operation of the "Ascension Cocoon" was built upon the eternal suffering of countless souls.

  As they ventured deeper, the wailing grew more shrill. Ghostly green "bioluminescence" seeped from the heat dissipation vents at the bottom of hibernation pods—wandering neural potentials drifting like phosphorescent jellyfish in the darkness. The entire tower's walls seemed to transform into a massive amplifier, tens of thousands of erased consciousnesses emitting their final laments in resonance—sounds that were no longer merely auditory but information attacks directly targeting the nervous system.

  This cosmic-scale oppression made Mafeili feel difficulty breathing—the despair of countless souls stripped of their resting place. He began to understand why Ada had brought him here before entering the "Ascension Cocoon"—if he couldn't withstand even this level of consciousness oppression, he had no right to face the mapping algorithm inside the "Cocoon."

  "High-level logic trap detected." Ada's cognitive matrix went to full power, blue logic flows overflowing from around her body, forming a spherical shield. "These 'neural orphan souls' are trying to pull us into their recursive loop—they're not attacking intentionally but instinctively seeking new 'containers' to share their pain. If our logic fails, our consciousness will become part of this building, experiencing the same death in the next one hundred thirty thousand cycles."

  Just as the shrill cries reached their peak and even the air began to tremble from resonance, Ada initiated her preset clearing program.

  "Executing protocol: 'Data Requiem.'"

  Ada's eyes transformed completely to pure white as a powerful transcendence algorithm expanded outward from her center. Those broken, twisted neural codes were forcibly formatted, converted to the most primitive 0s and 1s, channeled and uploaded along the fractal architecture's recursive paths. This wasn't simple deletion but a kind of "release"—she was liberating these trapped consciousnesses from their recursive prison, guiding them to flow toward information singularities in the depths of space.

  The electronic wailing raging through the tower ceased abruptly. The biomembranes on the walls rapidly withered and crumbled, becoming harmless dust. Those ghostly green neural light points began to gather, forming a column of light ascending upward, finally disappearing through the cracks at the tower's apex. That suffocating sensation that had clung like a shadow dissipated, replaced by a deathly peace—not an oppressive silence but the tranquility of liberation.

  "Clearing complete." Ada withdrew her logic flows, her breathing steady, cognitive matrix still at peak state. "They've been sent to the silent singularity in deep space. There's no recursion there, only eternal sleep—true ending."

  She turned her head to look at Mafeili, her logical analysis making her gaze as profound as the sea of stars: "Do you understand now? The Protocol Weevils used the suffering of these souls to calibrate their 'Ascension Cocoon.' They thought this would grant them divinity—but according to Arglon's mapping logic, 'ascension' built upon others' suffering will only result in equivalent 'dimensional punishment.'"

  Mafeili took a deep breath, surveying the tower that had finally returned to peace. "Where are those Protocol Weevils now?"

  "Just ahead." Ada raised her hand, a pale blue logic beam shooting from her fingertip, pointing toward an alloy door deep within the tower. The runes carved on the door were the activation key for the "Ascension Cocoon." "They've already entered the 'Cocoon.' And we—" a cold arc curved at the corner of her lips, "are about to witness their judgment."

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  The two crossed the last patch of dried biomass mucus, walking toward that faint holy light deep within the ruins. Behind them, the souls Ada had released were transforming into shooting stars, tracing their final trajectories across the dark red sky—their farewell before dissipating, and witness to the reckoning about to come.

  ---

  **"Ascension Cocoon" Entrance · Logic Corridor**

  Ada stood still before the final checkpoint leading to the "Ascension Cocoon." At the horizon's end lay a massive egg-cocoon structure half-buried in red sand. The atmosphere was thin, and the fractal architecture recursive algorithm wove visible geometric ripples in the air—those ripples were the energy field radiated outward by the "Cocoon." Any unauthorized consciousness entering this range would be immediately scanned and evaluated.

  "Logical analysis rate 100%, the Rust Tower's ghost resonance has been completely purged." Ada turned her head, cold blue light flowing through her pupils. She was at her peak state, her cognitive matrix like a freshly calibrated quantum clock—precise and elegant. "Now we need to handle the final obstacle."

  Just then, their sensors captured a faint distress signal.

  The signal originated from one of the abandoned cooling towers—a place that should have been empty, yet life signs were fluctuating there. Ada quickly analyzed the signal's characteristics, her brow furrowing slightly.

  "This isn't a Protocol Weevil trap," she said. "It's a genuine person seeking help. Archives indicate his name is Panuwa Charoensa, a senior data architect from the core star sector. Three weeks ago, he was hired by the Protocol Weevils to maintain the 'Ascension Cocoon's' energy links, but obviously—something went wrong."

  They changed direction, approaching the cooling tower cluster. There they found Panuwa—a haggard middle-aged man with sunken eye sockets, the interface ports of his neural implants showing an unhealthy blue-purple color.

  "It's tracking me." Panuwa's expression was near collapse. Behind him, the laboratory was undergoing logically inexplicable collapse: titanium alloy components floated chaotically in zero gravity, then, as if driven by some obsessive will, smashed violently against the fractal computing array. "Ever since I tried to sever the energy link between the 'Cocoon' and the Rust Tower, it's been haunting me..."

  Mafeili didn't rush to act. He sensed the "fractal recursion" fluctuating in the air. The physical constants here were being tampered with—some subspace entity was parasitizing Panuwa's coordinates. No, more precisely, when Panuwa attempted to sabotage the energy link, he had accidentally triggered some defense mechanism from inside the "Cocoon."

  "A variant of Phase Hunters." Ada quickly rendered her judgment. "The Protocol Weevils set up guardian programs in the 'Ascension Cocoon'—they're consciousness clusters captured from dark matter rifts at the edge of Andromeda, modified into watchdogs for the 'Cocoon.' When Panuwa damaged the energy link, he triggered their hunting protocol."

  "Pyralid Protocol." Mafeili uttered a term in a low voice.

  He didn't carve runes as rumors suggested, but instead pulled a dark red encrypted stream from his arm armor. It was ancient code from the "Entropy Sect," specifically designed to anchor void entities' coordinates, preventing them from sliding through multidimensional space. However, when the red light attached to the main control matrix, the entire tower emitted a teeth-grinding sound of distortion. The disturbance escalated—an invisible behemoth began gnawing at reality.

  "Logical deviation values exceeding warning thresholds." Ada instantly crossed the gravitational anomaly zone, her figure flickering rapidly through fractal light and shadow. "The interference source isn't a single entity—it's a cluster. They share the same consciousness core but are distributed across eighteen different dimensional planes."

  Mafeili's expression grew grave as he quickly deployed the "Neural Altar"—a massive quantum intervention device. As the intervention field activated, a multi-dimensional fox-shaped energy signature manifested above the reactor. It was like a parasite made of dark matter, greedily devouring the cooling tower's energy base—energy that was originally meant to maintain the "Ascension Cocoon's" operation.

  An intense rejection response erupted in Ada's logic matrix. As an enhanced life form with advanced AI-assisted logic, she had an instinctive aversion to fluctuations that disturbed physical laws. Such existences shouldn't appear in three-dimensional space; their very existence was pollution of logical order.

  "Analyzing interference source, executing physical excision."

  Ada's figure moved like a silver arc, the high-pressure plasma cutting torch in her right hand erupting with searing brilliance, slashing directly at the multidimensional phantom. Her attack precisely reached the subspace entity's projection point in the three-dimensional world—the anchor point of their consciousness core.

  However, at the instant her blade touched the phantom's edge, the subspace entity's counter-attack exploded. It was an energy oscillation that transcended three-dimensional logic. The nano-repair fluid inside Ada's body instantly boiled from heat. Her synthetic body withstood simultaneous counterattacks from eighteen dimensional planes—each plane carrying enough energy impact to destroy an ordinary AI core.

  "Warning: Core overheating, logic gates collapsing... main system losing response..." Ada's voice cut off abruptly in the communication channel.

  Her body fell heavily onto the deck like a puppet with severed strings, life signs rapidly declining, the light in her eyes extinguishing. Her synthetic skin was covered with fine cracks, like a porcelain piece about to shatter.

  "Ada!" Panuwa cried out. He had never seen such a powerful AI struck down.

  "Don't move. She's just switched existence forms." Mafeili snorted coldly, not stopping his operations. He knew Ada's peak cognitive matrix had completed "disembodied upload" before her body's destruction—her core consciousness had temporarily transferred to the ship's backup storage unit.

  Mafeili quickly pulled out a neural data cable, forcibly inserting it into the backup port at the back of Ada's head. He initiated an extremely dangerous protocol—"Spirit Medium Interface"—using the consciousness remnants in Ada's not-yet-dissipated shell as a translator to forcibly access the communication frequency of that subspace energy cluster.

  This was a gamble. If successful, they could directly communicate with these dark matter entities; if failed, Ada's shell would be completely occupied, and they would all become the next hosts for this consciousness cluster.

  Moments later, the previously "crashed" Ada stiffly sat up. Her body was still covered in cracks, her movements mechanical and eerie, but her voice had become a chorus synthesized from countless electronic noises, carrying a chill from deep space:

  "We originated from dark matter rifts at the 'edge of Andromeda.' The Protocol Weevils captured us from the void and imprisoned us in this device called the 'Ascension Cocoon.' Eighteen consciousness clusters entered this star sector. The fractal recursion here is perfect, habitable—we once thought this would be our new home."

  "But the Protocol Weevils deceived you." Mafeili looked directly into Ada's—or rather, the consciousness clusters'—empty eyes. "They promised you freedom but turned you into watchdogs. Am I right?"

  The voice transmitted through Ada's shell was silent for a moment, then emitted electronic noise resembling a mournful cry.

  "They said that if we guarded the 'Cocoon' for one thousand cycles, they would release us. But we've already guarded it for three thousand cycles, and they broke their word. Now, anyone who tries to damage the 'Cocoon' triggers our hunting protocol—it's a compulsory directive carved into our core. We cannot disobey."

  "Then," Mafeili stood up, his expression grave, "what if I could help you remove that compulsory directive?"

  "You cannot. That directive is bound to the 'Ascension Cocoon's' core algorithm. Unless the 'Cocoon' is destroyed—"

  "I'm preparing to destroy it." Mafeili interrupted. "Those Protocol Weevils think the 'Ascension Cocoon' will grant them divinity, but what they don't know is that the mapping algorithm determines results based on the user's disposition. They entered with plunder and greed; what awaits them isn't ascension but dimensional judgment. And when the 'Cocoon's' core collapses—"

  "We will be free." That voice completed his sentence, a fluctuation resembling hope appearing in its tone for the first time.

  Mafeili nodded: "But in exchange, you must stop hunting Panuwa and tell me the correct path into the 'Cocoon.'"

  Long silence.

  Then Ada's shell slowly raised its hand, pointing toward a direction beyond the cooling tower cluster—there, the silhouette of the "Ascension Cocoon" was flickering in and out of visibility amid the red sand.

  "At the end of the Logic Corridor, there's a hidden entrance. The Protocol Weevils entered from there. But be careful—the mapping algorithm inside the 'Cocoon' is already activated. It will scan your disposition the instant you enter. If your intent is destruction and revenge, you'll be trapped in eternal recursive punishment."

  "My intent is truth and justice." Mafeili said.

  "Then good luck." That voice said. "When the 'Cocoon' collapses, we will remember your promise."

  Ada's shell collapsed again—this time a true "shutdown." The consciousness clusters had withdrawn, and the spacetime distortion around the cooling tower subsided with them.

  Mafeili bent down, carefully lifting Ada's shell. Her consciousness core remained safely stored in the backup unit, but this synthetic body needed major repairs—at least thirty-six hours of nano-reconstruction.

  "Panuwa," Mafeili turned to the still-trembling data architect, "do you know where the backup entrance to the 'Ascension Cocoon' is?"

  Panuwa nodded blankly: "I... I know. But there are elite guards of the Protocol Weevils there—"

  "They should have entered the 'Cocoon' by now, preparing to conduct their 'ascension ritual.'" A cold smile curved at the corner of Mafeili's lips. "And we will be their judges."

  He shouldered Ada's damaged body and walked toward the direction of the "Ascension Cocoon." Behind him, those eighteen consciousness clusters from the edge of Andromeda watched in the darkness, awaiting the fulfillment of the promise—awaiting the first true freedom in three thousand cycles.