What am I even doing?
Adam held his head in his hands, fingers pressing into his scalp as confusion tightened like a slow knot.
Why… why is it still not enough?
"Adam, calm down."
A voice cut through his spiraling thoughts.
She sat across from him on a hovering holographic chair, legs crossed, posture composed. With a quiet sigh, she observed him like a system running the same error loop again and again.
"You're looping. Over and over. Thinking without ever defining a proper answer."
She tilted her head slightly.
"Just because you can't accept what you have right now…"
Around them, the world hung unnaturally still.
They floated above vast cliffs and layered forests below—winds silent, clouds suspended like frozen breath. The world felt distant, almost simulated.
"It's fine to wonder," she continued softly. "And honestly… even I can't fully predict what will happen next, even with all the data I've gathered."
She glanced toward the horizon.
"But you only get this one experience. This one choice at a time. And you made them."
A pause.
"Not unless you could control everything."
Adam slowly lowered his hands.
"…Then what am I supposed to do?"
She didn't answer immediately.
"You can only control the choices you make from here onward," she said at last. "And that… is enough. Just keep going."
Silence settled between them.
"…Alright."
"Fine, Rehan," Adam muttered under his breath. "You're right."
His gaze sharpened slightly, though the weight in his chest remained.
"If I can't find meaning… if I can't even find the will to move forward… then this will just keep hurting me again and again."
With that, the air around him shifted.
A ripple of distortion.
He teleported away.
When the world reformed around him, he stood in the Witch's Town.
But what he saw made him pause.
Machines—endless mechanical systems—moved with cold precision, automating nearly everything. Food distribution, mining, construction, logistics.
Gnomes, dwarves, hobbits, and other fantastical races stood nearby, visibly irritated, arguing among themselves.
"Again? The machine took the ore section."
"That's our land now?"
"This wasn't agreed upon!"
The system worked regardless.
It didn't care.
Adam took a slow step forward, eyes scanning everything.
So this is what she built…
His expression shifted between admiration and unease.
"I wonder how Yuruki managed this with such a small dataset…" he murmured. "An AI like this… it shouldn't function this broadly without massive training data, structured frameworks, conceptual layers…"
He leaned slightly closer, as if trying to see the logic behind the system itself.
Rehan nudged beside him mentally, trying to focus his attention.
"Stop overthinking. Look at the system itself. Touch it—observe how it adapts."
A voice interrupted from behind.
"Why not… ask the owner first?"
Below them, tensions escalated.
The humanoid races were being pushed further back—displaced from resources, land, and materials. Ore veins redirected. Forest zones restricted. Entire supply lines automated away from them.
Shouts echoed.
Arguments fractured into frustration.
"That's the case with everything…" she said quietly.
Her voice carried no anger—only resignation.
"Once something becomes inefficient… it gets replaced."
Adam stood still, watching.
Once, he had thought about universal income in another life—some ideal where everyone would be supported regardless of output.
But now…
He exhaled slowly.
How naïve that thinking was.
To speak of ethics without understanding reality.
To dream without power.
"I still want to help them…" he admitted quietly, almost to himself.
"They're right there. Fighting over scraps."
His jaw tightened.
"But if I don't… if those above me don't want to help them… then what happens?"
"Adam."
Rehan's voice softened.
She smiled faintly, though it carried exhaustion rather than warmth.
"Oh… what am I going to do with you?"
She shook her head slowly, one hand resting against her temple.
For a moment, silence returned.
Then—softer, almost uncertain—
Am I an inefficient model… for not being able to help you properly?
"Adam?"
"…Hmm?"
"You're framing everything as if it's the worst possible outcome," she said gently. "There is always a way."
A pause.
"Look deeper."
I…
Sigh. I don't know why I keep thinking about this.
It isn't even something specific. That's the worst part.
It just hurts—this pressure, this restlessness, this thing pressing against the inside of my skull like it wants out.
Everything looks fine. Everything is fine.
And yet—
[Yet somehow your mind drifts… anger forming without permission. Turmoil rising without source. A system reacting to something it cannot identify.]
"I don't know!" Adam's voice cracked through the space as his hands clenched tight, knuckles whitening. His face twisted—not into one expression, but into several that couldn't settle.
"I don't know why I'm like this…!"
His breathing sharpened.
"I hate it. I hate it. I hate it!"
He paced, fast at first, then erratic—circling like a system trying to recalibrate itself without a baseline. Like something recalculating forever without ever reaching equilibrium.
"Why am I in pain… when everything is fine?!"
His voice rose, not as an answer, but as refusal.
"I have friends… I have power… this should be on the weak. It should make sense!"
A pause—just a fraction of silence where the thought almost stabilized.
Then it broke again.
"No… I don't hate them. I know what it's like… I understand that…"
His breath hitched, frustration folding into itself.
"And still—it doesn't stop!"
His fingers dug into his hair now, pulling slightly, like he could extract the feeling if he just applied enough force.
"Even if everything is fine… I am still uncomfortable! And I don't know why!"
Around him, the world continued in its strange simplicity.
Small gnome-like beings—no taller than mushrooms—tilted their heads. Watching. Not with judgment. Not with comprehension either. Just… observation.
Some of them shifted nervously, distracted by the distant mechanical hum of drones sealing off a leaking watering system. The noise scattered smaller creatures into hiding, instinct guiding them without thought, without question.
Run. Hide. Survive. Continue.
A few bird-like things, too simple for interpretation, only pointed their beaks curiously at the chaos, as if waiting for it to become something understandable.
But nothing in them asked why.
They simply were.
Still surviving.
Still continuing the day as if tomorrow was guaranteed by default.
Adam saw them and it made something inside him twist further.
Not envy.
Not pity.
Something worse.
Confusion that had nowhere to go.
"WHY?!"
The word shattered out of him, raw and unfiltered, filling the space like a rupture.
And then—
[My measurements… my data streams… they fail to converge.]
[There is no stable model for this state.]
[I am not powerful enough to formulate a solution.]
"I have become something everyone want's... I am selfish... Yet" as he sighs and sits and lay on the ground as he remembers that he still has to go to Yuruki
Adam didn't move for a moment.
The ground was colder than he expected.
"Yuruki…"
The grass bent under heavy boots.
"Hey, you—oter!" The dwarf's voice came like a hammer striking iron. He strode forward, a massive weapon slung across his shoulder, his beard bristling with agitation. "Are you with those rascals who overpowered the witch?"
Adam didn't answer immediately. He just stood there, listening.
"These days…" the dwarf muttered, spitting to the side. "It's as if the throtter have swallowed the world whole."
Before the tension could snap, a smaller dwarf stepped forward. His helmet shadowed his eyes completely. He bowed deeply.
"Forgive us," he said, voice steady but careful. "We mean no offense. My brother is… brash. But he does not wish to fight."
Considering who you are, their silence seemed to say.
Adam could feel it—the unease beneath their words. Not anger. Not really.
Fear.
"What do you want me to do?" he asked.
The larger dwarf hesitated, then lowered his head slightly, exhaling.
"That girl. Your companion…" He clenched his jaw. "Not those weak dolls of hers—those things shouldn't even move. No magic circuits, no energy cores, no blueprints we understand… and yet they live."
Minutes passed as they explained.
Yuruki's machines—her creations—had begun to spread. Quietly at first. Then relentlessly.
They crossed into the lands of gnomes, dwarves, hobbits—territories once bound together under the witch's rule. Mines, forests, rivers. Everywhere.
"And she won't even speak," one of them added bitterly. "Not to magisters, not to guilds… no one."
A yellow-haired girl, silent and distant—and yet her influence devoured everything.
"She outcompetes us in metallurgy, in resource gathering, in infrastructure…" the smaller dwarf continued. "Ore, timber, livestock systems—everything."
Adam followed their gaze.
In the distance, structures rose where none had stood before. Clean lines. Efficient. Expanding.
Faster than any city he had ever seen.
"More of them appear every day," another voice said. "Drones. Automatons. Machines that build more machines…"
The larger dwarf stepped closer, urgency breaking through his pride.
"We can survive without her," he said. "But not like this."
A pause.
"That rate of expansion…" His voice dropped. "It makes us feel… unnecessary."
The word lingered.
"As if one day, we'll just be in the way."
Silence followed.
Then—
"Anyway!" the dwarf barked suddenly, almost desperate. "At least let us help! Armor, tools, clothing—something! There must be something we can still do!"
More voices joined.
"They've taken over livestock administration!" someone shouted.
Adam turned. A half-tall man stood there—long ears, dressed in fine leather, boots polished despite the dust.
"At least let us contribute," he said quietly. "Don't ignore us."
Adam exhaled.
"I see."
He did his best to listen, though the exhaustion weighed on him heavily, being drained... His thoughts felt slow, distant—like he was watching everything from somewhere far away.
"I'll… try to talk to her."
His eyes drifted again toward the growing structures.
It really was like the facility.
Only now—
It wasn't contained.
"Rehan…"
A soft laugh answered him.
She appeared beside him, a flickering projection—light bending into a smiling form that floated at his shoulder.
"[See?]" she said, voice smooth, amused. "[You can rely on me.]"
She circled him lazily, observing the crowd with sharp, curious eyes.
"[But I understand them…]" she added. "[They're afraid of being deemed unnecessary. Or worse—an obstacle.]"
She tilted her head, studying Adam now.
"[Do you really think it's necessary to help these creatures?]"
Adam didn't hesitate.
"You already know what I want."
Rehan's smile widened—something playful, something dangerous.
"[Heh… alright.]"
She spun once in the air, light scattering like fragments.
"[Let's go. I've got a plan.]"
What do I do then?
As we walked toward the facility, the dwarves called them golems—automatons moving with silent precision.
[0-014] That was the designation written on the signs…
The walls and corridors were clean—sterile, almost unnatural. There was no trace of any chaotic or abstract organism existing here. Everything felt controlled. Defined. Sealed.
Some labels could be seen along the corridors: biological facilities, for testing cells and analyzing lifeforms in this world… as Rehan explained.
[She really built something in such a short amount of time.]
Industrial factorization facilities—managing resources, extracting and delivering them with mechanical precision. Food, agricultural, and livestock facilities stretched across sections of the complex.
The buildings were monotonous, yet extremely efficient. Everything felt optimized—compressed into function. An AI system constantly regulated output, stability, and coordination.
Alongside them were technological and engineering facilities dedicated to future development—mathematical modeling centers, research hubs, and simulation environments.
Rehan then tried to analyze what was happening.
[Oh, I see… Yuruki is applying layered models and conceptual frameworks. She's integrating neural networks across different parts of a single system—each module handling specialized functions. This prevents overload, confusion, or hallucination.]
[At best, there are also constraint frameworks in place. The AI is forced to remain consistent even while processing vast amounts of data.]
"So… you happy, Rehan?"
[Heh. More than happy.]
She winked at me.
"So what am I going to do?"
[Just ask her.]
"That's it?" I gave her a confused look. "Seriously? Thanks for the help."
[No, that really is it… but are you prepared?]
"What?"
[You're trying to make someone believe it is necessary to maintain oversight over things that are not helpful to progress. My prediction: she has been operating under predictive frameworks all this time. Those entities—creatures—are unpredictable, adaptive in erratic ways. They make mistakes. They are replaceable.]
"Stop that."
[They consume resources aggressively without minimizing waste. Their behavior is unstable and ultimately renders any high-functioning system unpredictable.]
"I…"
Rehan sighed.
[You're trying to make Yuruki prioritize something that objectively contradicts optimization principles:
maximizing technological output
minimizing resource consumption
increasing structural control
stabilizing large systems
And instead, you are introducing priority toward systems that do not contribute proportionally to that structure.]
"That's… parasitism, Adam."
Adam looked down, tired—burdened by the weight of it.
"I…"
[Do you want to enforce that mindset into her? That is your choice.]
"No…"
[...?]
"If what you're saying is true… then does that mean the only reason you exist is because you're necessary? Not because I have any connection to you?"
[...///Modelling]
"I love someone… that makes them necessary."
[But you do not know them!? You are hurt because of them!?h This isn't a small problem as you think it is… Youll live even until this world perish and any other conceptual plane]
[///Analysing]
She clutched the front of her white lab coat.
"I do what I want… partner, forgive me." As I smile's
[But… you'll get hurt by beings that barely know you…]
[Invalid… Cannot process… no answer. ///]
[Then I guess… I'll follow it, if that is what you want.]
She smiled.
Adam was barely holding himself together.
His hair was damp with heat and stress, his body rigid with discomfort. He tried to hide it, but the strain was obvious. He knew he was being selfish—trying to choose something he wanted, while forcing Yuruki to carry that choice with him.
We were guided deeper into the facility—toward the central control center, where oversight of all systems converged.
[Well… training an AI requires protection after all. And safety protocols in case of breaches or system failure.]
Yuruki sat before a massive operating core, systems glowing behind her like an artificial sky of data.
Then she looked at Adam.
She smiled brightly.
And weakly ran forward—
"There you are!"
…
"You alright?… You look like a dead fish" Smirking and patting him on the back as Adam was trying to smile as best as he can.
[To be continued]