Justin turned to regard Ignis, who was looking rather sheepish. He had good reason to be.

  Justin had run into his type before. Someone who thought they knew all the answers to the point where they couldn’t ever fathom being wrong.

  And when confronted with that reality, they never accepted responsibility.

  “You almost cost us everything, Ignis,” Justin said.

  Everyone turned to look at the Fyrspawn, and not even Emberlyn was coming to his defense.

  Ignis played it off with a nervous chuckle. “An understandable mistake, no? The Ethereal Interface, in a way, combines every person with a class—”

  “Did I ask for your help?” Justin asked. “I’m the only possible person who could have answered these questions. You should have figured that out when you heard the first one.”

  “You got one wrong, too,” Ignis pointed out.

  “Yeah,” Justin said, “because I was under attack. Something that would have never happened if you had just kept your mouth shut.”

  “What do you want from me?” Ignis said. “To argue about what is past? I’ll admit it, I was wrong this once. But without me, you would have never figured out the opening message.”

  That much was true, but Justin was sure that he would have tried talking in English, given the presence of English words in the library. It wouldn’t have been hard to connect those dots.

  Either way, it was pointless. Justin couldn’t wait until this guy was on Solanis.

  “As long as you don’t mess things up with the Sphinx,” Justin said. “Or take anything you’ve learned here and do something equally foolish.”

  “None of this is helping,” Eldrin said. “We’re alive, and we have the Keeper under our control. Why don’t you see what you can do with it, Justin?”

  Justin nodded. He could always count on Eldrin to bring things back to reality.

  Justin turned to face the floating crystal. He could feel its presence in his mind, so he knew his core could access it easily.

  “Keeper.”

  [Hello, Founder. How may I serve you?]

  Justin had a lot of questions, but first, the practical ones.

  “Can you give me full control over the constructs?”

  [Yes. The constructs are yours to command.]

  Justin paused, watching Ignis listening raptly. That could be a problem.

  “Am I the only one who hears this?”

  [Yes. As a Founder, I am only telling you Founder-restricted knowledge. What you do with that knowledge, or who you share with it, is your prerogative.]

  That was good. While Ignis could hear the questions, he couldn’t hear the answers. It wasn’t perfect, but it was at least a way to gatekeep important information.

  “How do I control the constructs?”

  [The Zantheran Defense Network is linked to the Ether Grid. Commands—whether verbal or through core link—are transmitted instantaneously between constructs.]

  “Core link. Is this wireless?”

  [Not in the conventional sense. The Ether Miasma covers the entire Zantheran Sphere. As long as you remain within the Sphere, you can control the constructs. However, if they leave, they will cease to function. Within the Sphere, you need only command one for its message to spread throughout the network.]

  Justin filed the information away. Absolute control over a vast number of constructs—more than enough firepower to take down the Sphinx.

  Or at least, he hoped so.

  “Define Zantheran Sphere.”

  [The Zantheran Sphere is the entirety of the space extending from the Keeper Crystal for approximately five miles in each direction.]

  So, the “Sphere” wasn’t this particular chamber with its sphere-like shape. It was rather a range extending outward from the crystal.

  “I have more general questions,” Justin said. “What exactly are you? How were you created?”

  [I am the Zantheran Keeper. I was created by the Founders to administer the Zantheran Sphere. My duties include overseeing city functions, maintaining infrastructure, coordinating defense, and executing the Founders’ directives. While I operate independently, I adapt and develop solutions based on overarching orders.]

  An advanced AI, then—exactly what Justin had suspected.

  “As for your creation,” Justin continued, “how does your intelligence work? Are you an independent entity, or something else?”

  [I am a collection of intelligence and memories. When classed individuals perished, before their consciousness fully faded, they were merged into the collective intelligence within this ether crystal. Their experiences, knowledge, and decision-making abilities became part of me, ensuring that the knowledge of the Founders was never lost.]

  Justin’s mind reeled at that revelation. “Are they…alive? In some sense?”

  [Not in the way you are, Founder. They do not think as individuals. Each consciousness is like a dreamer, lost in an eternal dream. Their collective presence forms the intelligence you are speaking to now, but there are no distinct voices aside from mine—only echoes of knowledge and experience.]

  That was unsettling.

  “And yet, when I used Poison Barb against the constructs, it worked. That means something within you was intelligent enough to understand and react my insult.”

  [Correct. My collective intelligence can respond to your Poison Barb skill when I am hostile toward you. Now that I am no longer your enemy, this is no longer applicable.]

  This was bigger than he had realized. But for now, he had control, and that was all that mattered.

  He thought for a moment, then pressed further. “If I give you an opponent, like the Pyrosphinx, can you formulate a strategy for defeating it and getting the gate key back?”

  [I can. The Pyrosphinx is a Level 28 Champion-rank entity. Defeating it is the only way to reclaim the gate key. There are two potential strategies.]

  Justin listened intently as the Keeper continued.

  [The first strategy is direct confrontation. The Pyrosphinx is physically formidable, with razor-sharp claws and devastating fire magic. However, it does have key weaknesses. The obvious ones are ice and water magic. Likewise, its wings are a key vulnerability; if they can be somehow incapacitated, it greatly limits its mobility. It also has access to incredibly powerful fire spells; if these can somehow be interrupted, you would just have to deal with physical attacks. As for status weaknesses, they are rather limited, but poison is a key one.]

  “Poison,” Justin said, considering the implications. “We might just have the thing for that. Would our Ashralok’s Flame be enough protection from its fire magic?”

  The Keeper hesitated before responding.

  [I assume Ashralok is a minor fire deity or demigod who grants a blessing similar to Vorthak’s Flame. I cannot verify the effectiveness of Ashralok’s Flame, as my memory has not been updated to include its properties. However, while Vorthak’s Flame might be strong enough to resist the Pyrosphinx’s magic—given his godhood—it is unlikely that demigods or lesser entities beneath him would offer the same level of protection. Even Vorthak’s Flame may struggle against a Champion-rank entity like the Pyrosphinx.]

  So, it wouldn’t offer total protection, but it was probably better than nothing. And he now had confirmation that the Pyrosphinx was Champion rank.

  Justin crossed his arms. “Then the key would be finding a way to exploit its weaknesses. I noticed in the murals that some constructs seemed capable of flight. Would I have access to any of those?”

  [No. The airborne constructs of the Zantheran Defense Network have not existed for some time.]

  Justin frowned. “Why not?”

  [The aerial constructs relied on the Zantheran Sphere’s Aerial Grid to maintain flight, channeling etheric energy to stay airborne. However, during the Sphere’s decline, the Vein of Aetherus was severed from the Aerial Grid. Without the sustained influx of ether, the flight-based constructs gradually lost power. The rest deteriorated beyond repair. No means exist to restore them.]

  Justin sighed. “So, no reinforcements from the air. Great.”

  [Correct. Your available constructs are limited to ground units. However, alternative strategies exist. If you wish to challenge the Pyrosphinx in battle, a multi-pronged assault utilizing overwhelming numbers may increase your chances of success.]

  Justin wasn’t sure if throwing bodies at a giant flaming lion-bird thing was the best strategy, but it was worth considering.

  “All right,” he said. “No flying constructs, limited fire resistance…looks like we’ll have to get creative. Is it possible to shut down the gate to prevent retreat?”

  [Yes, it is possible. However, I would caution against this. The ethereal magic sustaining World Gates is chaotic and powerful, and even a brief interruption could cause irreparable damage. If you had to, I would do it for no more two minutes. That said, the Pyrosphinx is unlikely to retreat. Its sense of honor would prevent it from willingly abandoning a prize as valuable as a World Gate.]

  “Got it,” Justin said. “So, I could gather the constructs, classify the Sphinx as a Level 10 threat, and give the attack order?”

  [That is a possibility. Given your current party composition and access to the constructs, the best approach would be to use them as a distraction. There are hundreds of constructs at your disposal, though many are in poor condition. The key would be creating an opening—targeting its wings with ice or water magic to limit its mobility. If they can be incapacitated, the rest of the constructs could swarm it and it would be easier for you to poison it. However, the Pyrosphinx remains a formidable opponent, and prolonged combat will favor it. Additionally, the constructs are particularly vulnerable to fire-based attacks, making attrition a losing strategy. The likelihood of success depends on precise execution and coordination.]

  Justin exhaled. So, they had a chance, but a slim one. A lot could go wrong.

  “You mentioned there’s another strategy that might work,” Justin said. “Maybe something that could make use of my charisma, perhaps?”

  [Yes. Given your charisma, it is likely the Pyrosphinx would consider you worthy of a challenge outside the realm of combat. Sphinxes possess a deep, inherent love for riddles, puzzles, and games of the mind. It is in their nature to test and be tested. If challenged to a game of riddles, the Pyrosphinx may be unable to resist, given the stakes.]

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  Justin frowned. “Can you tell me about those stakes? All I have to go on is hearsay, but from what I understand, sphinxes kill and absorb the power of the challenger.”

  [That is correct. The Pyrosphinx possesses a skill known as “Core Inheritance.” It functions similarly to your “Gentleman’s Agreement”—binding both parties to conduct themselves with honor. Should you win, you will receive what you seek: in this case, the gate key and an abandonment of its claim to the World Gate. However, if you lose, the Pyrosphinx will absorb your core. This would strip you of your class, all skills, boons, levels, attributes, and access to the Ethereal Interface.]

  Justin stiffened. The Keeper could have just said he would die. That might have been easier to hear.

  The Pyrosphinx wouldn’t just gain a skill from him. It would gain his Prismatic Core.

  He knew, without needing to be told, that if he challenged the Sphinx to a game of riddles, it would not be able to resist the opportunity to claim that power for itself.

  At this point, he would rather die than lose his class and start over from scratch.

  And yet, the chance to resolve things without violence was tempting. He couldn’t afford to enter a game of riddles unless he was absolutely certain he could win.

  Either that, or until he had exhausted all other options.

  “Be honest with me,” Justin said. “What are my odds of winning a game of riddles versus fighting it directly?”

  The Keeper paused.

  [To be honest, your odds are not favorable in either scenario. This Pyrosphinx is particularly powerful. Your success in gaining control of the constructs has significantly improved your chances—without them, victory would be nearly impossible. However, if I were to assign probabilities, I would estimate your chances of defeating the Sphinx in direct combat at 12%, and your chances of defeating it in a riddle contest at 0.5%.]

  Justin blinked. “Not 5%?”

  [0.5%.]

  His stomach sank. “How did you arrive at that figure? I’d like to think our odds are at least a little higher than that.”

  [I have calculated the probabilities based on your party’s classes, levels, and the resources available to you, weighed against the known capabilities of the Pyrosphinx. My calculus does not account for unknowable factors, such as spontaneous creativity or unforeseen tactical ingenuity. This Pyrosphinx is exceptionally powerful. Each Sphinx is unique, shaped by the cores it has absorbed over its history. This one acquired its fiery nature by consuming the cores of fallen Fyrspawn challengers. The sheer number of cores it has taken suggests it has vanquished many opponents.]

  Justin rubbed his temple. That was a hell of a gamble.

  Another idea struck him. “What if I asked it a question it couldn’t answer? Something truly unknowable or impossible?” Then, remembering The Hobbit, he added, “Like, ‘What’s in my pocket?’”

  The Keeper responded immediately.

  [A Sphinx’s pride and sense of honor are paramount, and you would be bound by the rules of the challenge. You would not be permitted to ask a question that relies solely on hidden knowledge—one that has no logical path to discovery. If you attempted to do so, the words would die on your lips. Too many attempts would lead to an automatic forfeiture.]

  Justin frowned. “So, no trick questions that rely just on guessing.”

  [Correct. However, a riddle that is merely difficult—one that requires reasoning but not simple recall—would be allowed. The key is that the answer must be discoverable through logic alone, with details provided by the riddle itself. And it must have a single, verifiable answer.]

  Justin let out a slow breath. “So it has to be a real riddle, with a real answer. And more than that, if I tried to cheat, I wouldn’t even be able to ask it.”

  [Correct. If you cannot best it in a fair riddle contest, combat remains the superior option. Indeed, your odds of success are much higher in a direct confrontation.]

  Justin turned to the others. It was time to explain everything he had learned.

  When he was done, silence settled over the group as they processed the reality of their situation.

  Eldrin was the first to speak. “A near-impossible battle or an even worse riddle contest. And if we lose, the Sphinx absorbs Justin’s core. That’s just great.”

  Lila sighed. “I hate this. I hate both choices.”

  Emberlyn shook her head. “I don’t trust a riddle match. The Keeper’s right—the Pyrosphinx wouldn’t be easy to outwit. At least in a fight, we have a chance to do something. I don’t know how much the old stories are true, but there’s only one in which a Sphinx is outplayed.”

  Ignis remained silent, likely not wanting to give his opinion. In Justin’s mind, that was probably for the best.

  Eldrin grunted. “It seems like fighting it directly is our best shot.”

  Justin glanced at them all. No one liked the odds, but the consensus was clear.

  “Then we fight,” he said.

  “As long as you don’t shut down the gate,” Emberlyn said. “That would go against our agreement, since it risks destroying it.”

  That much was true, and Justin definitely didn’t want to break his Gentleman’s Agreement. “It should be fine if the Keeper is right about the Sphinx not wanting to leave.”

  He looked back at the Keeper. “We’re going to fight the Sphinx.”

  [Of all your options, this is your best one. There is a chance of winning, however slim.]

  Justin sighed. “I guess it’s time to form a plan. You’ve given me some decent ideas so far, but I think we can probably come up with something better.”

  [Of course. I am working with limited knowledge, and you may have some ideas I didn’t consider, or capabilities or gear that will allow you to punch above your weight. I would encourage caution, Founder. Of the highest magnitude.]

  There was really nothing left but to get started on this.

  But before he did that, Justin had a few personal questions for his own sanity.

  He could see himself returning here someday, but it was hard to imagine when that might be.

  There was a rare opportunity to learn more about this world and he meant to capitalize.

  Justin folded his arms. “Back to the Founders. Who were they? What happened to them?”

  The Keeper’s voice resonated with the weight of something long buried.

  [The Founders were a powerful civilization, masters of both magic and technology. They created the Zantheran Sphere as a refuge, a fortress, and a repository of knowledge. But their civilization fell—whether due to war, internal collapse, or an external force. Their final command was to preserve their legacy within me if any other Founders were ever discovered.]

  Justin frowned. “How do you not know how their society fell? That seems like something you should have recorded.”

  There was a slight pause, as if the Keeper was hesitating.

  [My best hypothesis is that memory has been either fragmented or deliberately altered. My core records may have degraded over time, or someone may have intentionally erased key events from my knowledge.]

  Justin sighed. Of course. “But you do have knowledge of Earth. You wouldn’t have asked me those questions otherwise.”

  [My specific knowledge of Earth is limited to a few basic facts, along with a randomized set of questions used to verify a Founder’s authenticity.]

  “I see. What can you tell me about Earth, then?”

  The Keeper’s glow pulsed faintly, as if processing something deeper.

  [The Founders originated from a planet called “Earth.” Earth exists in a place they referred to as “the Universe,” the supposed origin of all human beings within the Aetherion.]

  Justin’s gut twisted at the confirmation. “So, the Aetherion—that’s the name for all reality as it exists in this…plane, or whatever you’d call it?”

  [Yes. The Aetherion encompasses all existence as we understand it: the Six Worlds, the Ether Realm, and the Nether Realm. However, beyond this reality lies another—a place the Founders called “the Universe.” It is from there that they arrived.]

  Justin narrowed his eyes. They arrived. Probably using the same or similar type of gate that brought him here.

  “How?” His voice came out quieter than he intended. “I came here through a gate. Did they…have control over this ability? They would have had to.”

  Another pause.

  [That knowledge is…inaccessible.]

  Justin stiffened. “Why? Because I answered a couple of questions wrong?”

  [Unfortunately…yes.]

  Again, Justin fumed at Ignis. But surely this couldn’t be the only Keeper in the Aetherion. There had to be more Founder settlements, perhaps with similar tests, where he could gain access to final answers.

  “Well, if you can’t answer whether they had control over making gateways to other realities, did this place exist before them, or did they create it?”

  The Keeper’s glow fluctuated as if pulling from something old, fragmented, but still intact.

  [The Founders did not create the Aetherion in the way a craftsman constructs a house, or an artist paints a landscape. Nor did they stumble upon it like explorers charting unknown lands. They sought it.]

  Justin’s brow furrowed. “Sought it?”

  [They set parameters. They defined the conditions of the reality they wished to find. And when the right conditions were met, the Aetherion…became accessible.]

  “You’re telling me they discovered this place like it already existed, but only after defining what they were looking for?”

  [Yes.]

  “That…doesn’t make sense.”

  [Does it not? If a choice of infinite possibilities exists, then choosing is, in itself, an act of creation.]

  Justin’s mind raced. Perhaps the key was in the questions the Keeper itself had asked him.

  It had mentioned various “Mission Year” designated dates. There was M.Y. 2412, the date of the Keeper’s last memory update, and the purported dates of WWIII, which took place from 2055 to 2068. It had mentioned that this war had made the Founders come to the Aetherion.

  This could easily be seen as a “mission,” which meant the original gate to the Aetherion had been created sometime after 2068. Were computers advanced enough by then to create—or rather, “find”—advanced realities? And not only that, but for people to travel to them?

  Was Valdrik right that this was all some advanced simulation?

  So the question was, as soon as humanity passed to the other side, did they start reckoning the years as M.Y., starting from 0? Or had they changed the Common Era designator to Mission Year?

  This difference was crucial. It meant the Founders were either here for three hundred years or twenty-three hundred before the Keeper’s memory stopped getting updates.

  They didn’t create the Aetherion from nothing. They searched an infinite sea of possible realities and selected one that fit their parameters.

  And they did this to escape the brutal aftermath of a world war that killed hundreds of millions. Or perhaps this was par for the course in the future of the world Justin left behind. Create your own reality, it’s easy.

  Even if he was off in the details, and the exact reasons why, the broad strokes created a convincing picture of what happened.

  Justin let out a breath. “That’s…a hell of a leap from making video games.”

  [Yes, I am aware of the concept of video games. The Founders once created simulations, virtual landscapes with artificial laws. But at some point, simulations ceased to be sufficient for the escapism they desired. So, they sought not to make, but to find. To ask: What if a world already existed, waiting to be seen? And if an infinite number of realities were possible, could one not search for the right one, just as one searches the stars for unknown planets?]

  “The Aetherion is real because the Founders decided it was.”

  [In a way. It is both a discovery and a creation—because their search is what made it real.]

  Which left the final, most important question. Was everyone born in this world real, or a fabrication?

  He was afraid to ask this in front of Ignis. True, he couldn’t hear the Keeper’s answers, but he was smart enough to piece things together by listening to the questions.

  The Scholar knew far too much already, but Justin didn’t know when he would get this chance again. Ignis already knew he was from Earth, which really couldn’t be helped at this point, except perhaps by getting him to be bound by a Gentleman’s Agreement.

  They would get there when they got there. Justin had to know.

  “Then what about the people of the Aetherion? Were they fabricated by the conditions the Founders set? Are they truly conscious?”

  A long silence. The Keeper’s glow dimmed slightly.

  [That… is a complex question.]

  Justin’s stomach tightened.

  “Yeah, well, give me a complex answer.”

  The Keeper seemed to process this for an uncomfortably long moment before it finally spoke.

  [The people of the Aetherion—humans, Fyrspawn, orcs, elves, and all other sapient beings—are not mere simulations. They are not fabrications. They are…emergent.]

  Justin narrowed his eyes. “Meaning?”

  [The Founders searched the initial parameters—the laws of physics and magic, the flow of time, the fundamental principles of existence. But what they did not find, they allowed to form on its own. Just as life in their Universe arose from conditions favorable to its existence, so too did life in the Aetherion. Once the parameters were set, reality followed its own course. The inhabitants of this world are no less real than those from the Universe. They are not programmed. They are not illusions. They exist—because their existence, as stated by the parameters, became inevitable.]

  Justin let that sink in. “So…they’re not artificial?”

  [Correct. They are not artificial. They are the result of a reality left to grow on its own. Just as Earth birthed life through its natural processes, so too did the Aetherion. The Founders did not fabricate its people. They only created the conditions necessary for them to arise. They think. They feel. And they are fully conscious and aware.]

  That was definitely reassuring. They were as real as he was—just born from a different set of conditions. That meant Valdrik was wrong, only lying to himself and others to excuse his sociopathic behavior.

  It was possibly the best news Justin could have gotten, assuming the Keeper’s memories about this detail hadn’t been altered.

  But that left one final, burning question.

  A question that had been gnawing at him since the moment he learned how this world worked.

  “So…who is the Creator?”

  The moment the words left his lips, the air itself seemed to tighten, as if the very fabric of the chamber were listening.

  The Keeper did not respond immediately.

  A silence stretched—longer than any other.

  Justin’s fingers curled slightly. “Or is it just a System—some kind of automated administrator that governs this world? Something that speaks to us when we level up, sets the rules of existence, and people just call it the Creator because they had no other way to explain it?”

  At last, the Keeper answered.

  [You may think of the Creator as “the System.” Or “the Voice.” Or even “the Creator.” All three are valid. The Creator is the ruler of the Aetherion, who created it by his word. But any specific knowledge about the Creator beyond this...is forbidden.]

  Justin’s jaw tightened. “So you know more. You’re just not telling me.”

  A pause.

  Then—

  [Correct.]

  “You’re saying that if I ask more questions about this, you won’t answer?”

  [Yes. More than that, any further questions about the Creator will result in the forfeiture of your Founder privileges.]

  “Wait…what? Just for asking?”

  [Curiosity is not forbidden. But consequences are absolute. Tread carefully, “Brave Adventurer.”]

  The glow of the crystal dimmed.

  The conversation was over.

  Brave Adventurer.

  Those final words were not the Keeper’s.

  They were a warning, perhaps from the Creator Himself. A warning to stop asking questions Justin might not want to have answered.

  “Holy shit,” he said.

  He turned to the others, not quite sure how much to divulge, and to whom.

  For now, he would stick to the basics.

  He would decide on the rest later.