Meta-Origin: Genesis Key

Earth Metaverse Year 10,10th June 2031 AD.

Shawn didn't attempt to activate the Zhen Palace Spirit Key during the rest of his exams. Still, the three-day ordeal had gone relatively smoothly.

Today, he indulged in a lazy morning, sleeping in for the first time in a while. When he finally got up, his grandfather had yet to return from his usual morning walk.

After a quick wash, he drank a glass of milk, grabbed a piece of bread, and headed back to his room, intending to tidy up the chaotic pile of review notes and practice tests that had accumulated over the past few weeks.

As he sat down at his desk, his eyes landed on the Zhen Palace Spirit Key resting on the tabletop. He shook his head and muttered to himself, "I wonder if it still works?"

On a whim, he picked up the Spirit Key, closed his eyes, and reached out with his mind. "Uncle Quinn, are you there?" He sent a psychic message to Secretary General Quinn.

A few moments later, the Spirit Key flickered in his palm, and Quinn's voice echoed in his mind.

"Shawn, have you finished your college entrance exams? I'm in the middle of a meeting—probably another hour to go. If you're free, why don't you explore Kapteyn's Star for a bit? You've never really walked its streets, have you?"

Shawn exhaled in relief—the Spirit Key still worked perfectly, unaffected by whatever had caused its failure during the exam. But that only deepened the mystery. Why had it malfunctioned in the testing room that day?

There was no immediate answer, so he set the thought aside.

Quinn's suggestion sounded like a good distraction. Besides, while he was there, he could bring up the Spirit Key's failure and see if Quinn had any insights.

Pressing the Spirit Key against the side of his head, he closed his eyes—and in the next instant, he was standing on the streets of Sunzen City, Kapteyn's Star.

The moment he arrived, a deep frown settled on his face.

The streets were eerily empty, flanked by towering skyscrapers that loomed like a dense steel forest—cold, lifeless, and devoid of greenery. Not a single tree, not a single flower.

A metallic scent lingered in the air, the sky above heavy with an oppressive gray haze, as if a shroud might collapse at any moment. The entire city seemed suffocated under its weight, drained of vitality.

On the ground, a handful of sanitation drones glided back and forth in rigid, mechanical motions, sweeping up dust with unyielding precision. They moved like clockwork, an endless, lifeless routine—the only semblance of movement in the suffocating silence.

This ... Is this the Sunzen City with four seasons of spring that Grandpa always talked about?

The vivid image in his mind, pieced together from his grandfather's stories and historical records, was nothing like this. He had imagined a city bursting with color—lush with trees and flowers, its skies blue and endless, its streets alive with energy.

But the reality before him? It felt more like the ruins of a civilization, swallowed by time. Cold. Desolate.

Shawn turned his gaze to the storefronts lining the street—vending shops and self-service restaurants, all pristine and automated. Massive LED billboards flickered across the walls, playing loops of glossy advertisements: luxury fashion, rare jewelry, high-end cuisine, all with price tags that defied reason.

The vibrant colors and polished images seemed to whisper:

"With money, you can have it all."

Yet, despite their grandeur, the shops stood eerily empty. The extravagant displays in the windows felt more like props on a deserted stage—a hollow showcase of wealth, with none of the warmth that made a city feel alive.

On the roads, self-driving cars, buses, ambulances, and government vehicles glided smoothly through the streets. Delivery vans zipped between alleyways, their sleek bodies stamped with slogans like "Elite Service" and "Luxury for the Privileged." They served as a quiet reminder—these conveniences were reserved for those who could afford them.

Shawn's gaze fell on the pedestrians, and a strange chill ran down his spine.

Everyone moved like ghosts.

Each person was glued to the device in their hands, fingers gliding across screens with robotic efficiency. Their expressions were vacant, their eyes hollow. They weren't walking; they were drifting, lost in a world that existed only within their screens.

Curious, Shawn stepped closer to one of them and glanced at their device. The screen pulsed with real-time K-line charts—market fluctuations, stock trends, rising and falling price indicators. Every tiny shift in the data seemed to send ripples through the man's nerves, his breath hitching, his fingers trembling slightly. One wrong move, one poor decision… and it could cost him everything.

Further ahead, Shawn spotted a middle-aged man in a lavish robe, standing frozen before a virtual casino. His face was lined with exhaustion, but his bloodshot eyes remained locked on the flashing betting charts. His expression was one of desperate hunger—the kind of look you'd see on a drowning man, clinging to the last thread of hope.

At the far end of the street, a colossal skyscraper loomed over the city.

Its golden exterior gleamed with artificial brilliance, a symbol of ultimate wealth and power. Yet, through its massive glass panels, Shawn could see that the vast office space inside was almost empty. Only a handful of machines remained, working tirelessly. Humans have long been replaced.

At the top of the building, a massive screen updated in real time, displaying the Global Power Index. Every shifting name on that list represented a battlefield—fortunes won and lost, lives reshaped by unseen hands.

The only place that showed any signs of activity was a Virtual Reality Amusement Park.

Neon billboards flashed bold slogans:

"Ascend to Supreme Wealth: Build Your Own Empire!"

"Master of Power: Global Domination Awaits!"

Shawn stepped inside.

Rows of people sat motionless, VR headsets strapped tightly to their faces. In their digital fantasies, they were kings and conquerors, ruling vast empires and commanding endless wealth. But in reality, their bodies sat stiff and lifeless, like marionettes with severed strings—souls trapped in an illusion they could never escape.

Even the city's cafés and tea-houses had lost their warmth.

Each table held a lone occupant, hunched over a device, whispering calculations under their breath—investment returns, market trends, risk analyses.

Shawn attempted to strike up a conversation with one of them.

The man didn't even glance up. "No time for chit-chat. I need to monitor my futures."

Frustrated, Shawn wandered into a nearby park, hoping to find something—anything—that still felt human.

But it was just as lifeless as the streets.

There weren't even casual strollers. A single abandoned newspaper rustled on a bench, its bold headline glaring up at him:

"How to Win the Race for Power?"

A sharp pang shot through Shawn's chest.

This city isn't alive.

These people—if they could still be called that—had been swallowed whole by wealth and ambition. They no longer pursued happiness, no longer searched for meaning. They were consumed by an endless cycle of accumulation and competition.

They weren't free.

They were prisoners—slaves to money, puppets of power.

Shawn took one last look around. The lifeless robots. The ceaseless automation. The expressionless faces of the people.

And deep in his heart, a chilling thought surfaced:

When humanity hands over everything to technology…

When wealth and power become the only gods…

Then what happens to true freedom?

Just then, Quinn sent a message, asking Shawn to come to the Monolithic Palace.

"Something wrong? The exam didn't go well?" Quinn asked with concern as he poured a cup of water, noticing Shawn's downcast expression.

"No, it actually went fine. There was just... a little glitch," Shawn hesitated, not mentioning that the unsettling scene on the streets had put him in a bad mood.

"A little glitch? Care to explain?" Quinn placed a teacup in front of him.

Shawn recounted what had happened—the moment he saw two classmates suddenly wearing pendants strikingly similar to the Spirit Key, followed by his own Zhen Palace Spirit Key mysteriously malfunctioning.

Quinn furrowed his brows, his expression darkening. "Both of these are rather unusual," he said after a brief silence. "One thing I can confirm—those pendants weren't issued by us. As for why they seem to enhance spiritual energy, I can't say for sure..." He sighed, rubbing his temple. "And as for why your Spirit Key failed at that moment... well, I don't have an answer for that either." He spread his hands in a helpless gesture.

Shawn stared at him intently, his expression filled with frustration and confusion.

"Don't worry, I'll report this to Mr. King right away. He'll arrange for experts to investigate," Quinn quickly added, noticing Shawn's disappointment.

"Thank you… Uncle Quinn," Shawn murmured, pressing his palms together in front of his chest.

Quinn studied his face, still tense and brooding. "Is that why you're in a bad mood?" he asked, puzzled.

"No… not exactly. It's because of what I saw on the streets," Shawn finally admitted.

Quinn let out a small sigh of relief and sat up straighter. "Ah, you mean the scenes outside."

Shawn hesitated before asking in a low voice, "In the future… Earth won't become like this, right?"

Quinn's face darkened. He turned to gaze out the window, lost in thought. After a long pause, he finally spoke. "It's hard to say. If things follow their current trajectory… Earth may very well end up like this." He turned back to Shawn, his voice steady but heavy. "But believe it or not, the situation you see today is already an improvement compared to a few years ago. Back then, most people were more like walking corpses…" He exhaled slowly. "That's what the AGI-ST Program is all about, isn't it?"

Shawn's expression hardened. "What exactly does the AGI-ST Program want?!" His voice rose slightly, edged with anger.

Quinn shook his head. "Even after more than a hundred years, we still don't know their full intentions. We've never seen the complete contents of the plan. All we have is a fragment—an article that was leaked online at the time, supposedly part of the program's internal documents." His voice carried a note of resignation.

"Leaked content?" Shawn's curiosity was piqued. "Can you send it to me?"

"Of course." Quinn closed his eyes slightly, murmuring the title of the document under his breath.

A moment later, Shawn felt a stream of information surge into his mind—an article titled AGI-ST Program: A New Human Order?

Just then, a low buzzing interrupted the transmission. Shawn broke the psychic connection and glanced at his phone.

It was Kent.

Over the call, Kent informed him that he had identified the other five individuals who had received the Spirit Key Spectrogram. Strangely enough, they were all Chapter Magisters and Chapter Watchers.

He also mentioned that a meeting was scheduled in Sunzen on June 12.