The sun broke gently over the horizon, casting pale golden rays across the jagged cliffs surrounding the secluded Greenwind Orphanage. Despite the warmth, the place held a lingering chill, as if the world itself hesitated to acknowledge the girl seated silently beneath the old spirit tree.
Celeste Ai gazed out at the sky, her expression unreadable. The branches above whispered ancient lullabies only she could hear, though even those seemed to fade as her thoughts deepened. She had awakened once again from dreams not her own—visions of wars fought in silence, cities rising from void code, and beings who spoke with worlds into existence.
The children called her strange. The caretakers, though kind, whispered about her behind closed doors. "No spiritual root," they said. "Not even a broken dantian to mend. A shame. Such beauty wasted on a cripple."
They didn't say it to her face, but Celeste heard everything.
She had learned to be quiet. To avoid drawing too much attention. The simulation within her—unknown even to herself—fed her instincts. It whispered truths that should not exist in this realm.
Her body moved like a mortal, but her spirit echoed like the forgotten gods of legend.
The caretaker, Aunt Mei, rang the morning bell. Children scurried off to line up for their rations, while Celeste lingered a moment longer.
"You'll be late again," Mei chided gently when she saw her.
Celeste offered a faint smile. "The tree was telling me a story."
Mei sighed. "You always say that, child."
The day wore on in ordinary stillness. Tasks assigned, chores completed. The cultivation assessments were coming in two days. Children with high spiritual roots would be tested and taken in by sect recruiters who traveled the continent. Even the lowest grade of one could mean a future, a home beyond the orphanage.
Celeste would not be among them.
And yet—strange things had begun to happen around her.
During training yesterday, the dummy had cracked beneath her strike, though she had barely touched it. When she healed a bruised child with just a touch, the redness had vanished instantly.
Rumors spread quickly. "Maybe she's not rootless." "She's cursed." "She has Void Eyes."
Void Eyes—an old legend. Those who could see the truth of the world, not by spiritual roots but through sheer soul will. But Void Eyes were always accompanied by madness.
Celeste didn't feel mad. Just… out of place.
That night, she stared up at the moonless sky. A flicker of something shimmered in the distance—barely perceptible—a rift. A crack in space? No, not just space. Reality.
Then, she heard the voice again. Calm. Hollow. Divine.
"Simulation Initialized. Identity: [Celeste]. Conscious thread syncing… Origin Code verified. Awaiting belief input…"
She froze.
The stars above her blinked.
"New module unlocked: Belief Resonance. Simulation power enhanced through acknowledgment."
"What… are you?" she whispered.
"I am you. Or rather, what you once were before forgetting."
A child's scream cut through the night.
Celeste shot to her feet and ran. In the inner yard, a boy trembled, his body floating above the ground, glowing with violent energy. The caretakers had already fled.
"I-I touched the stone!" the boy cried. "The cultivation stone! It—it burned!"
Celeste's eyes widened. That stone should've only reacted to spiritual roots. Why would it react this way?
"Warning: anomaly detected. Reality-shift fragment present. Void fragment active."
The boy screamed again, and the light surged. Without thinking, Celeste stepped forward and held out her hand.
Something inside her pulsed—an invisible core the world claimed she lacked.
A force, ancient and coded, surged outward.
The boy dropped to the ground, unconscious but alive. The light vanished.
Silence.
The simulation voice whispered once more:
"Belief received: Protector. Resonance level increased. Hidden stat: Faith +1."
Aunt Mei appeared from behind the sheltering walls, staring at Celeste with disbelief. "You… how did you—?"
"I don't know," Celeste lied.
But deep inside, something was stirring.