The Lazy Genius With 999x System

Chapter 87: Where we left off



Jay's POV

In the echoes of the simulation's rebuilt hallway, the light flickers unnaturally. Not a system bug— something worse. Something familiar.

It wasn't just a presence. It was like watching a memory rot in front of me.

Null.

That thing that looked like me. Thought like me. Maybe even bled like me.

But he wasn't me.

...Right?

He said things only I should've known—lines from choices I never made, regrets I buried so deep the system itself couldn't track them anymore. He walked like someone who had seen every version of this world— every failure, every reset, every discarded ending.

I try to laugh it off, like always.

A shrug. A quip. A lazy "Well, that's not ominous at all."

But it doesn't land. Not this time.

Because deep down, I felt it.

Null wasn't just a glitch. He was the cost of my survival.

And maybe...

...maybe he's the one who paid it for me.

---

Alicia's POV

Somewhere else in the simulation's reset core, Alicia places her hand on the wall— feeling the cold hum of corrupted threads weaving through.

That voice...

It wasn't Jay. It wore his face, mimicked his cadence, but it lacked the tether I feel when he's near.

That pull that reminds me he's still choosing his path, even when he's unsure.

This... Null… was different.

He didn't seem lost— he seemed abandoned.

No, more than that.

He was angry at being the forgotten piece of the puzzle we all built to survive.

I saw him in the Mirror Chamber— just for a flash. A shadow behind Jay. A whisper in Rei's vision. And something inside me clenched— not in fear, but in guilt.

What if we left him behind?

What if Jay isn't whole?

What if this was our fault?

I wanted to protect everyone. Every version. Every path.

But I didn't even know he existed.

Now I do.

And I can't pretend he's not part of this anymore.

---

Both, separately... yet the same:

> Jay (thinking): If Null's me… then what does that make me now?

Alicia (thinking): If Null was left behind... do I have the strength to bring him back?

______

The world around Rei wasn't collapsing.

It was… waiting.

Like a stage between acts, with the curtains half-drawn and the actors unsure if their lines still mattered.

Rei stood in a room that shouldn't exist— half-rendered walls flickering with pieces of different timelines: the academy's dormitory corridor overlaid with the hallway of the village library, the floor a checkerboard of stone and simulation panels. Above him, a sky that looked like crumpled glass reflected a hundred broken possibilities.

> "You're lingering longer than you should, Rei Kazuma,"

a voice called out, calm and echoing, like a memory speaking from the other end of time.

He didn't flinch.

> "And yet... here you are," Rei muttered, without turning. "Still watching. Always watching."

From the fractured light emerged a fragment— not the full Observer, but something thin, like a thought peeled off and given shape.

It wore a robe stitched from starlight and static. No face, only shifting lines, like someone had scribbled expression onto fog.

> "You trespass where even Null hesitated."

> "Good," Rei said. "That means I'm on the right path."

The Observer fragment didn't laugh. But something like amusement pulsed in the static around it.

> "The 'right path' is a dangerous comfort. Especially when there are three truths and only two roads."

Rei turned now, eyes sharper than they'd been in days.

> "Then I'll build the third one."

Silence stretched. Then a slow hum of acknowledgment.

> "You would do well to remember, Rei Kazuma…

that the third path is not a road.

It is a choice.

One you all will have to make together, or not at all."

The world trembled slightly like even this fragment couldn't hold back the storm brewing beyond.

Rei narrowed his eyes.

> "Then tell me this, Observer. One last thing before I move."

> "Ask."

> "Was Null always meant to be forgotten?"

A flicker. A pause that felt too long.

> "Null… was never meant to exist."

"But now that he does… forgetting him is no longer an option."

The fragment dissolved like ash caught in wind, and the room folded inward— time resuming.

Rei stepped forward.

The dream had ended.

Now came the decision.

______

A quiet hallway outside the old training chamber, faint lights flickering on cracked digital walls.

---

Alicia leaned against the cold wall, her arm wrapped in gauze, still faintly glowing from overexposure to raw code particles.

She wasn't looking at anything in particular.

Not until she felt it, a ripple in the air, subtle as a breath held too long.

Her hand instinctively went to her waist, gripping nothing— her sword was gone.

But she didn't need it.

Not this time.

"You're late," she said without looking.

Rei stood a few feet away now, just outside the flickering range of the failing corridor lights.

His coat was torn, and something dark lingered in his eyes— not malice, not guilt. Just... weariness, deep and old.

"Took the long way," Rei replied softly. "Had to get something first."

"Your answers?"

"No," he shook his head. "Resolve."

She finally turned to face him.

For a moment, neither spoke.

The silence between them was filled with things left unsaid, fractured timelines, separated paths, all the moments where one was awake while the other wandered a different layer of the world.

"I saw you," Alicia murmured. "In the simulation. You were... breaking things. Saving things. I couldn't tell which."

Rei exhaled through his nose, stepping closer.

"I didn't know what I was doing half the time," he admitted. "But I knew who I wanted to protect."

Her gaze softened, not in pity, but in understanding.

"Jay?" she asked.

He shook his head.

"You," he said quietly. "Him too. But... it was you I kept seeing at the edge of the dream."

Alicia blinked, caught off guard, a flicker of red rising in her cheeks before she folded her arms with a huff.

"Took you long enough to realize I'm the one keeping you grounded."

"I never forgot," Rei said.

A long pause.

Then—

"You're still annoying," she said, a little too quickly.

"You're still a storm," Rei replied, just as quickly.

They both smiled.

The hallway groaned under the weight of collapsing dream layers, and somewhere behind them, the echoes of systems reinitializing whispered through the air like dying stars.

But in this moment short, quiet, painfully real, they were just Alicia and Rei again.

No titles.

No fragments.

No corrupted gods.

Just two souls who'd lost each other and were trying, in whatever way they could to make their way back.


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