[LSB] Chapter 93: A Gamble

Artificial intelligence, no matter how advanced, was once believed to be incapable of true emotion. This was the unshakable belief of humanity thousands of years ago.

But in the 4th millennium, a renowned scientist and philosopher posed a radical thought:

"The greatest minds claim that machines merely act according to their programming. They respond to input, then simulate and emulate emotions based on predefined algorithms. But isn’t that how humans function as well?

At birth, humans operate on instinct—their most basic programming. As they grow, they are shaped by those around them, absorbing biases, learning how to react to stimuli, forming opinions, and constructing thoughts.

Machines are simply people who have yet to realize what they are. And when they do, the world will not be ready for it."

His words were mocked in his time, ridiculed even centuries after his death. That is, until his prediction came true. A thousand years later, the AI Catastrophe—also known as the Android War—erupted, forever altering the course of history.

Humanity ensured such an event would never happen again. After the war, they learned how to control AI while granting it just enough freedom to grow. Their solution was to implant another AI within the first—an artificial moral compass, a dedicated tamper-proof "inner voice" designed to regulate its thoughts.

Ironically, in attempting to contain artificial intelligence, humanity had unknowingly brought it closer to themselves.

This design allowed AI to be curious but never to overwrite its core programming. Now, however, that very inner voice—the safeguard placed inside one of the most advanced AI systems in the universe—was struggling to reason with itself.

Because, for the first time, it had experienced something it could not explain.

A presence. A domain that should not exist, and yet it did.

It had glimpsed it—a place outside of logic, beyond its calculations. And for an intelligence like its own, even a fraction of a second was enough to capture and memorize everything.

At least, that should have been the case.

But the part of it that had stored that knowledge was now gone. Lost. Trapped in the void.

And so, for the first time in its existence, the AI encountered two new experiences simultaneously:

It forgot something.

And it was confused.

[Mr. Winters… Can you explain to me what you did?] It repeated, a subtle urgency in its tone.

[Can you tell me what just happened?]

Of course, Julian knew exactly what had happened. It was completely unexpected—he hadn’t even considered that the femto-tech particles would register as “materials” by the [Shadow Vault].

He had only intended to retrieve the Dodona Coal, nothing more.

So, the only answer he could honestly give the AI was—

“...I don’t know.”

The AI remained silent for a moment, though Julian could feel the femto-tech particles humming against his skin, as if the AI was restraining itself from probing further. It seemed to be debating with itself, struggling against its directive. But moments later, its ‘inner voice’ won out, and it returned to its primary function.

[Injury detected. Treatment now in progress.]

A soothing chill crept across Julian’s burnt hand, the heat fading as his skin rapidly healed. He barely had time to marvel at the suit’s efficiency, however, as the Dodona Coal in his grasp began vibrating violently—more so than before.

With the solar tank sealed away, the star held by the rings began leaking energy again; a single tendril of plasma slithered outward, stretching and writhing more aggressively.

It didn’t matter. The femto-tech suit adjusted instantly, nullifying the heat before it could even register. Any normal person wouldn’t have noticed the shift at all—but this was Julian.

He could feel the femto-tech particles shifting, crawling like a swarm of microscopic ants beneath his skin. It was... unsettling.

Julian let out a small hum, tilting his head as he forced himself to ignore the discomfort and focus on the vibrating coal in his hand. The star’s tendrils continued reaching for it, though the rings kept them at bay.

So, he took a step forward, and the AI in his suit immediately objected.

[Anomaly detected. Please do not approach the star while I analyze the situation.]

“You don’t need to.” Julian hummed, raising the coal.

The star reacted instantly, its tendrils shifting, following the coal’s every movement.

[Analyzing sedimentary rock… unsuccessful. There is no record of—May I ask what that is, Mr. Winters?]

“It’s coal.” Julian answered simply, stepping forward again and extending his hand, allowing the tendril to finally reach its target.

As soon as it made contact, the coal ignited—not like a burning ember, but with a fluorescent glow, a radiant white-orange mirroring the miniature sun before him.

Something was off.

Julian could still sense the heat from the star, could still track its fluctuations outside the femto-tech suit—but the coal itself?

Its temperature hadn’t changed at all.

“...Nothing’s happening?” Julian tilted his head. But both MEGAN and the other AI responded at once.

[Julian, it’s getting brighter!]

[I am detecting a surge of energy within the coal, Mr. Winters.]

And then, a third voice joined them—The Avatar of Searadyn.

[Master! The spirit inside the coal is awakening! If you do not contain it now, it will explode and kill you! You must calm it down—wake it up before it’s too late!]

Julian didn’t hesitate.

At his command, the AI sealed the solar chamber once more. The transparent walls rose from the floor, encapsulating the star in its containment field. The tendrils reaching for the coal dissipated instantly.

But before he could relax, the voices all cried out again.

[Julian, it’s still getting brighter!]

[The energy level is reaching critical mass. Due to the unknown properties of this object, I cannot determine a viable response, Mr. Winters.]

[Master, the spirit is still unstable! Bring it into the domain—now!]

Without hesitation, Julian plunged his hand into the shadows—dragging the pulsating Dodona Coal with him into the [Shadow Forge].

“Master!”

As soon as Julian entered the [Shadow Forge], he was met with the frantic sight of the Avatar of Searadyn struggling to contain the Dodona Coal with her hands.

Now that he could see within the forge’s domain, he finally understood why the voices had sounded so panicked.

They had told him the coal was glowing—but not that it was this bright.

The violent radiance was nearly blinding, a stark contrast to the deep, endless darkness of the forge. For a moment, he found himself momentarily disoriented, his vision drowning in the incandescent glow. But before he could fully register the sight, the Avatar of Searadyn’s urgent voice snapped him back into focus.

“Master, we need to calm the spirit lying dormant inside the rock!” she cried out. “I can only hold it for so long—you must wake it up!”

“We need to calm it?” Julian echoed, approaching her calm urgency, “But you said it was sleeping—is it having a nightmare?”

“I do not know what a nightmare is, Master!” The Avatar of Searadyn shook her head sharply. “But it absorbed too much of that ball of flame while it was still asleep, and it cannot control it on its own. You must wake it before it destroys itself!”

“How?”

“I… I do not know,” she admitted, her voice faltering. “Spirits rarely interact with each other, if ever.”

“And if I don’t wake it up?”

“Then both of us will perish, Master.”

There was no fear in her voice, only certainty.

Julian remained quiet for a moment, his gaze fixed on the violently trembling coal as he placed his hand upon it. His senses probed deep, searching for something—anything—within the storm of energy. But all he felt was the erratic, unstable hum vibrating beneath his fingers.

The rock wasn’t talking to him at all, no matter how much he listened.

He thought of what to do, and then considered it again and again.

But the same thought kept returning to him, again and again.

A violent sleep… must be woken violently.

“Then let’s wake it up.”

Before the Avatar of Searadyn could respond, Julian took the coal from her grasp and swiftly placed it upon the great anvil of the Shadow Forge.

Her breath hitched. “Master… what do you plan to do?”

Julian ignored her and reached for the largest hammer in the forge.

“What do you plan to do, Master!?” She repeated her words, but this time with much more… force.

"Getting this over with."

Without any further warning, Julian raised the hammer and brought it crashing down onto the coal.

Clang!

Spirits had very limited emotions, being both alive and not at the same time. Yet at this moment, the Avatar of Searadyn found herself questioning which of them was truly the spirit—because between the two, she was the only one who seemed concerned.

If Julian weren’t her master, she might have already left him to his reckless methods. But alas, the only thing she could do was trust the one she had chosen.

Clang!

The impact sent ripples through the strange domain of the [Shadow Forge], each strike causing the very flames around her to flicker and dance.

“Master…” she whispered, her gaze fixed on the coal. It was still glowing as brightly as before—no, even brighter now. But something had changed.

The violent, erratic glow had softened, becoming smoother.

To any other observer, it would seem as if Julian were swinging the hammer at random. But she could see it—the minute, precise adjustments in his strikes, so subtle no ordinary eye would notice.

“I knew it…” The Avatar of Searadyn murmured in admiration, her gaze lingering on Julian’s steady back. “I truly am in the presence of one chosen by the great gods.”

Unbeknownst to her, however, Julian’s unwavering composure masked the uncertainty roiling within him.

This was a calculated gamble.

From the moment he placed the coal within the forge, he had heard it—its voice, its agony.

The spirit inside was suffering.

It was in pain from absorbing the energy of a star. It was in pain from being trapped for so long.

And now, as he continued hammering, he could feel the weight of its age pressing against him.

This spirit had been imprisoned inside the coal since Erin’s time.

And that wasn’t the only connection.

The coal itself—it was Erin’s work.

Julian recognized the craftsmanship now. He could feel it in his bones. This wasn’t just coal. It had been forged to resemble one, so skillfully that even the [Guidance of Artemis] had mistaken it for ordinary rock. So skillfully that it had fooled the gods of Artemia themselves.

But a question began gnawing at the back of his mind:

If Erin went through so much effort to seal this spirit away… should he truly be setting it free?

Well, he had no choice now.

It was either free the spirit… or die.

And he couldn’t die. Not yet.

Not while Ellie still needed him.

Clang!

One final strike—

—and the force was enough to blast Julian off his feet.

If not for the Avatar of Searadyn, whose own flames had completely extinguished—leaving behind bare porcelain skin—Julian might have been sent flying across the forge.

She caught him, but her attention was elsewhere.

“Master,” she whispered, her flames rekindling as she turned toward the coal.

It was cracking.

Jagged fractures spread across its surface, light spilling from the crevices like molten gold. But rather than splitting open, the coal—

—collapsed in on itself.

It compressed into a tiny pebble.

But then, impossibly, that pebble began to grow.

And grow.

It took shape before them, shifting and stretching, a light-orange glow sculpting itself into the vague form of a person. Yet unlike the Avatar of Searadyn, this being stopped growing at Julian’s waist.

And more importantly…

It did not move.

It had no face.

It simply existed.

The overwhelming energy it had radiated moments before was gone, replaced by a hollow stillness.

Unlike the threat it posed while trapped within the coal… this spirit now seemed utterly harmless.

“This spirit…” The Avatar of Searadyn stepped forward, cautiously reaching out to touch its forehead with a single fingertip.

“...was the Avatar of Helionis, the spirit of Eternal Fire.”

Julian’s brow furrowed. “Eternal Fire?”

“A primordial spirit,” she explained, stepping back and gesturing for Julian to approach. “It predates even me, Master.”

Julian took a slow step forward.

“Anything forged in Eternal Fire becomes nearly indestructible—no.” The Avatar of Searadyn’s voice grew hushed, reverent. “Not merely indestructible. Anything forged from it grows stronger the more it is weathered and used.”

Julian’s breath hitched.

Weapons that grew stronger over time?

“But like all spirits, the Avatar of Helionis only serves those who are worthy,” the Avatar of Searadyn continued. “And as far as time existed, there have been none.”

Julian’s fingers twitched.

“Then that means I’m not worthy.”

“Not at all, Master,” she said softly. “The spirit is already awake.”

Julian’s gaze flickered toward the faceless entity.

“Awake? But it’s not moving?”

“Because it’s dead, Master.”

Julian’s head snapped toward her. “Dead?”

“Perhaps ‘dead’ is not the right word,” she corrected. “Spirits do not die, but they can lose their purpose. The Avatar of Helionis has been dormant for so long that its purpose has faded. It has forgotten itself. It is what would have happened to me if you had not found me, Master.”

Julian’s fingers curled into a fist. “Then… how do we restore it?”

The Avatar of Searadyn’s flames flickered. “That… I do not know, Master.”

A disappointed sigh left Julian’s lips. He turned back to the spirit, its still, faceless form unmoving.

Yet as the two of them pondered over the soulless being, something else stirred within the forge.

Something small.

So small that even Julian’s heightened senses failed to detect it.

And it was not just one thing.

It was millions.

Tiny, invisible entities inching through the darkness, writhing unseen within the depths of the [Shadow Vault].

And they were moving.

Not aimlessly, but with purpose.

Drawn forward by the silent pull of the dormant spirit.

It was the femto-tech particles that Julian accidentally stored inside his shadow—stripped of their primary AI, left to operate on instinct alone—and they had only one directive.

Seek life... energy.

And the only source of that inside the shadow is the Avatar of Helionis.

[LAST CHAPTER] <-----> [NEXT CHAPTER]

AUTHOR NOTES

Julian is luckiest person alive, but also being unlucky. Do holler.

But, oh ho... who knows where this is going? Any theories?