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The Architects of Reset

Reygald_Dirgantara
7
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Synopsis
The blood on the blade feels real. The grief of betrayal feels real. But for Subject 017, the pain is nothing more than a metric designed to test his breaking point. ​Thrust into a violent realm of magic and steel, he is a deliberate anomaly. Stripped of the supernatural gifts granted to everyone else, he was programmed to be a tragic casualty in a war-torn kingdom. That was the script. But he refuses to play along. Weaponizing his own physical limits through ruthless tactical brilliance and a grueling, lung-shredding discipline, he sparks a rebellion and begins winning a war he was explicitly designed to lose. ​Then, the cracks in reality begin to show. ​A momentary freeze in the middle of a siege. A sky that flickers to reveal a cold, white grid. Crimson system warnings hovering like ghosts over the battlefield. Subject 017 realizes a horrifying truth: his universe is not a world at all. It is a digital sandbox, an endless, cruel experiment managed by unseen overseers known only as the Architects. ​His victories aren't saving the kingdom—they are corrupting the simulation's data. ​Now, the overseers are initiating a deletion protocol to wipe the broken environment clean and reset his memory for the next twisted game. Subject 017 refuses to be erased again. Turning his rebellion away from false kings and tyrannical lords, he points his blade at the sky itself. ​In a desperate race against the collapsing fabric of his own existence, he must exploit the very glitches tearing his world apart. It is no longer a fight for a throne. It is a brutal, calculated scramble to hack his way out, shatter the cycle of resets, and finally wake up.
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Chapter 1 - PROLOGUE: The White Room

[System Time: Cycle 404 - Initialization Phase]

The room had no walls, only an endless horizon of sterile white light. There was no sound, save for the low, rhythmic hum of data streams processing millions of variables per second.

In the center of this void stood a sleek, obsidian console. Five figures stood around it. They wore pristine white coats that shimmered like liquid mercury, their faces obscured by shifting digital masks. They were the Overseers.

"Subject 017 is prepped for insertion," said Vanz, tapping a holographic interface. His voice was bored, the tone of a man who had watched the world end a thousand times. "Memory wipe complete. Physical stats... abysmal. Zero mana affinity. Minimal muscle density. Why are we even bothering with this one?"

"Because," replied a deeper, colder voice. Mr. X, the Lead Architect, stepped forward. His mask was a featureless void. "Perfection is not found in strength, Vanz. It is found in adaptability. In the previous three hundred cycles, the 'Hero' archetype failed to stabilize the region 98% of the time. They rely too much on the system's gifts."

Mr. X looked at the floating screen. It displayed the sleeping face of a young man

"Subject 017 has the highest survival index in the database. He doesn't need magic. He needs a reason to survive."

"So, what's the script?" Eru, another Overseer, asked, leaning against the console. "The usual? Demon King rises, hero finds holy sword, saves the princess?"

"No," Mr. X said. "We are testing the 'Rebellion' scenario. We will strip him of everything. Family, status, power. We will back him into a corner and see if he breaks... or if he builds."

Mr. X pressed a single, red command key.

[INJECTING CONSCIOUSNESS INTO: REYNOLD VAN DER] [WORLD: VALENCIA] [SCENARIO: THE FALLEN HOUSE]

"Let the game begin," Mr. X whispered. "And keep an eye on the code. This Subject has a habit of... improvising."