Loopbreaker

— He thought it was the end, but stood at the threshold of the Rift.

The air was unnaturally still, as if the entire space had forgotten how to breathe. Even the faintest breath might send ripples through this forsaken realm, disturbing something lurking in the shadows.

Shawn stood before the dust-covered blackboard in the activity room, eyes fixed on the Meta Band wrapped around his left wrist.

It was no longer just an accessory, nor merely a keepsake—it had become a key, a hidden phrase, a call awakening from slumber.

"Gate of Meta Origin…"

He murmured the strange phrase, as though invoking a hidden force—or testing whether this was real, not some vivid hallucination.

He slowly turned around.

Outside the activity room, the amber glow of the streetlamp stretched long shadows across the ground. At the edge of that light, a paper airplane briefly lingered in midair before it began to descend, spinning softly as it skimmed silently across the floor.On one of its creased edges, faint words were barely visible:

"You are nearing the truth."

He didn't pick it up, but something deep inside him had already been struck. He knew this wasn't some student's prank. It was a message—a response meant only for the "awakened."

He turned and walked out of the activity room.

What was once a bustling dorm courtyard now lay completely empty. Even the vending machines, usually humming with life, had gone silent from an electrical fluctuation.

Head bowed, he followed the winding path, the Meta Band warm against his skin—its subtle tremors echoing the rhythm of his hastening pulse.

Just as he was about to turn into the dormitory hallway, a familiar, sudden voice came from the shadows:

"You noticed, didn't you?"

Shawn froze, then looked up sharply.

Lindsay stood in the shadow near the flowerbed, her expression calm, as if she had been waiting for a long time.

"You're not back in your room?"

"I was waiting for you."

"For me?"

"Yes," Lindsay said firmly. "You saw it, didn't you? That final symbol left in the activity room… Not everyone can see it. It only appears to those who've awakened."

"You mean…" Shawn's voice cracked slightly. "I've already awakened?"

Lindsay looked at him, a subtle, unreadable smile tugging at her lips.

"You've awakened… but true awakening still lies ahead."

She paused, her gaze drifting past Shawn into the night.

"The key to completing your awakening is 'Return'—to return to the Originverse."

"Return?"

The word hit Shawn like an irregular shard, striking his mind with fierce resonance. He repeated it unconsciously, feeling each syllable carry a strange weight.

---

Lindsay led Shawn to an abandoned classroom building. She reached out and pressed her fingers against the doorframe—several luminous runes lit up, identical to the incantations etched on the memory chamber walls.

They stepped inside. The lights turned on automatically as they moved, then dimmed quietly behind them, as if the building itself was honoring the return of its kin through some ancient pact.

At the rooftop observatory, not a speck of dust was found, as if it had been meticulously maintained for years.

In the center stood a semi-enclosed memory matrix platform—shaped like an astrolabe, yet not to project stars, but to map coordinates of thought.

Lindsay produced a stone-shaped object and slotted it into the pedestal.

Without warning, the Meta Band slipped free from Shawn's wrist—

and flew straight into the core of the matrix platform.

Instantly, soft blue light rippled across the observatory. The dome began to open.

Before their eyes unfolded a layered celestial canopy—no ordinary stars, but a cosmos woven from thought and consciousness.

Lindsay's voice came from all directions at once:

"You are returning to the Originverse. There is no physical body there, no linear time—only you, and your true core essence."

Shawn felt a sudden sense of weightless descent. The surroundings peeled away rapidly.

There was no longer any spatial reference, no color—just him, transformed into a drop of light falling into a sea of memories.

Flashbacks surged from his childhood:

At age five, crying in the arms of a strange woman by the lake—her eyes identical to Lindsay's;

At ten, meditating in a cave that existed on no map;

At fifteen, encountering an ancient text sealed from his memory, its cover titled:

"Pre-Awareness Before Return."

And in that moment, he saw it at last:

The Originverse was not a realm beyond perception—

It was the womb of all true consciousness, the cradle of collective awareness.

And then he understood—these fragments weren't fantasies or dreams.

They were systematically erased, compressed, and sealed segments of "pre-awareness"—residual memories he had always carried.

---

When he woke from the Originverse, he was back at the observatory.

Lindsay was still there, though her eyes now held greater depth.

"You made it," she said.

"I saw so much… and felt fear."

"Fear is the threshold. But now, what lies ahead of you is the Rift."

"The Rift?" Shawn held his breath. Two vivid yet contrasting memories flashed through his mind:

The first—being driven away violently by O.S.S. soldiers when he accidentally approached the Rift's edge, as if violating some taboo;

The second—being lured by Quinn into initiating the eight-core fusion at the Rift, only to fall into a trap, barely escaping thanks to Lucy.

But now, for the first time, he saw the Rift clearly—its outline, its tremor, its call.

Lindsay didn't respond. She merely turned and pointed east.

There, beyond three-dimensional space, the sky seemed torn open. Light twisted, the syntax of reality distorted. Air currents stalled, colors sank, and time fractured into floating particles.

"On the far side of that rupture," Lindsay said, her voice reverberating through his thoughts, "begins the Gate of Meta Origin."

He gazed at the surreal, foglike, luminous structure, where consciousness seemed to spell itself into form in the air.

"You are now a Returner," she continued.

It was both declaration and initiation.

"But returning is not the end goal," Lindsay added. "The true purpose—is to ferry."

"Ferry who?" he asked instinctively, though part of him already knew.

Lindsay didn't answer aloud. Her lips moved, but the words seemed to resonate from deep within the Rift:

"Ferry all of humanity."

Before the words fully faded, a thunderous boom exploded in his mind—as though billions of neurons ignited at once.

The ground beneath him trembled slightly. The Rift sensed him and began to expand outward, as if beckoning.

A flood of emotions surged within him.

Images of the "Ideal Ark"—the system that trapped human consciousness—flashed through his mind, along with fragmented memories of the "Rift Bridge" and the "Meta Matrix."

Then it struck him—

To ferry humanity, he must first cross the Rift Bridge.

But the path… was not yet complete.

"I can't cross yet," he whispered, voice growing firmer. "Not yet."

Lindsay gave a small nod, her eyes shining with quiet approval.

"Now you understand: true power isn't recklessness—it's knowing when to wait."

He gripped the pendant tightly. The sigil on his forehead pulsed softly—not with heat, but like a seed quietly embedded in the soil of his consciousness, waiting to sprout.

"I must find the fragments of the Meta Matrix," he murmured, as if confiding in a higher force.

"Not just for myself—but for those still trapped in the Ideal Ark."

The edge of the void blurred again. The Gate of Meta Origin slowly faded from view. The Meta Band dimmed, yet the sigil had etched itself into the very fibers of his soul.

He knew he hadn't failed.

This wasn't the end—

It was a new beginning.

He was about to set off, to search for every piece of the Meta Matrix, to restore the true path.

Just then, his communicator buzzed.

Sender: Don

Message:

"You've triggered the Rift Bridge awakening protocol.

The next phase will not be yours to face alone.

They… are already on their way."