Error correction version 2.0
Chapter 4
Written by Bayzo Albion
A bright flash confirmed the changes, and the priestess's silhouette materialized out of thin air once more, appearing right in front of the updated screen.
"You've crossed the threshold, Cuddly Boogeyman," she said, her voice echoing in the quiet. "Now the question is not about sins or punishments-it's about creation. You must shape a world of your own, with rules and laws that spring from you alone. They can be as rigid as iron, enforcing order with unyielding precision, or as fluid as a dream. You set the rhythm. You decide what breathes and what fades."
Her hand lifted, fingers tracing elegant patterns in the air. The interface shimmered in response, rippling like a pond disturbed by a breeze. New options bloomed across the translucent screen like branching paths.
"Of course," she continued, "you don't have to start from a blank canvas. You may copy an existing world-Earth, with its bustling cities, or any of the countless realms you've glimpsed in story and legend. Enchanted forests, distant stars harboring alien civilizations... they are all stored here as templates. Or..." She smiled faintly, though her eyes flickered with a mix of encouragement and caution. "...you may choose something simpler, more intimate. A single house, vast and beautiful, filled with the friends you love most. A sanctuary large enough to contain every feast and long conversation you ever wished would never end."
Her words tempted me more than I cared to admit, painting vivid pictures in my mind. For a moment, I could almost see it: an endless home, rooms lit by warm lanterns casting golden hues on polished wood, windows opening into gardens where familiar voices called out to me. A place without arguments, without distance, without the sting of loss-a utopia tailored to heal the wounds of isolation.
But the skeptic in me stirred again, refusing to be lulled into complacency. I folded my arms, forcing a crooked smile.
"So I'm supposed to play God now? Draw the lines of gravity, decide what separates dream from reality? And if I just want a roof and a few friends, paradise will just hand it over like a delivery parcel? No strings attached?"
The priestess tilted her head, her expression a mask of serene mystery. "Exactly so. This is the heart of the gift: here, reality bends to desire. But whether that is a blessing or a trap..." Her smile deepened, carrying a subtle, dangerous edge. "...that depends entirely on the wisdom-or folly-you bring to the act of creation."
The words echoed in me, stirring equal parts excitement and uneess. If paradise truly ran on will alone, I was standing at the edge of limitless freedom-or taking the first step into a cage of my own making.
The interface flared, line after line of rules waiting for my input. The system guided me intuitively. With every parameter I adjusted, it refined the suggestions, illuminating paths I hadn't considered.
Since I had already turned on the Storyline and locked in the vintage internet slot, I began calibrating the fundamental laws of my upcoming reality. I trimmed away pointless cruelties-those senseless, grinding sufferings that had plagued my earthly existence. I reshaped how justice and cause-and-effect would operate, ensuring that actions held weight but allowed mercy to temper retribution. I infused the fabric of this new space with harmonies that encouraged growth over stagnation. It wasn't about sculpting mountains or seas; it was about writing the physics of meaning itself, defining how joy and sorrow would balance out around me.
And then, a final option appeared, materializing at the bottom of the screen like a whispered afterthought:
> **[System Notice:]**
> **Erase Memory of Creation - Recommended for First Experience.**
I froze. It was the one setting that genuinely unsettled me, a proposition that clawed at the edges of my fading mistrust. Erase my own authorship? Step blind into the very rules I had just designed, forgetting the architect's blueprint? My suspicions flared again, whispering of hidden traps.
But as I stared at the prompt, the anger faded. There was no trick here. The system had let me see the gears turning, touch the wires of creation, and set the boundaries with full awareness. If I clung to the memory of building this place, the world would never feel real. It would just be a sterile, predictable project, devoid of genuine surprise. I would always know what lay around the corner.
But if I forgot… it would become a true reality. A living canvas where I could experience my chosen era and my new life as a fresh participant, not a bored god.
I exhaled, the tension leaving my chest. For the first time since I died, my mistrust loosened its grip.
I pressed Confirm.
The interface pulsed once, a vibrant throb of light that echoed through my being, then dissolved into a blinding white. The knowledge of my own authorship drained away, slipping into oblivion without resistance. In its place swelled something clean and sharp: pure anticipation.
The threshold hummed, and I stepped through.
> [SYSTEM:]
> Initializing process…
> → Creating new world
> → Injecting parameters: [Storyline: Medium] / [Net-Slot: 2012]**
> → Generating environment…**
A vibrant flare of light blinded me. Within the radiance, the interface came alive-numbers flickered like fireflies, diagrams unfolded in intricate patterns, and fragments of landscapes flashed past. The system locked in the rules I had chosen, fusing them with the simulation of the vintage internet.
A second later, a final notification appeared before my eyes:
> [SYSTEM:]
> World successfully created.
> Final warning: Are you sure you want to erase your memory of creation?
> *(Note: You will forget the blueprints, but retain the baseline awareness of your authorship).
For a moment, a final pang of doubt stirred in my chest. There was something terrifying about releasing control and stepping blind into the unknown. But it was the only way to live this life for real, not merely administer it from a creator's throne.
"Yes," I said, my voice steady. "I'm sure."
The silhouette of the priestess in her snow-white robes lingered through the fading light. She inclined her head gently-not as a judge, but as a guardian watching a traveler make his choice. My mistrust dissolved completely. She hadn't lied to me; she had only waited for me to decide.
"Thank you," I whispered to her vanishing smile.
My finger dropped onto the pulsing key:
> **[BEGIN NEW LIFE]**
And the world rushed in. The white void collapsed into a roaring torrent of sensation, sweeping my consciousness deep into the embrace of a new reality, where every breath promised adventure and the shadows hid wonders yet to be discovered