[Code 404…? What is Code 404?]
The system's voice, which had previously been filled with arrogance and mockery, now carried a faint but unmistakable hesitation, as though it had encountered something that did not fit within its expected logic.
That alone was enough to make Otto pause.
He did not answer immediately. Instead, he leaned back slightly against the chair, letting the silence stretch just a little longer than necessary, his fingers tapping lightly against the wooden table in a slow, deliberate rhythm.
"You don't know?" he asked at last, his tone calm, almost casual, yet carrying a quiet weight beneath it.
[Error for website on the Internet?? What are you trying to say?!]
The air in the room seemed to thicken, as though something unseen had begun pressing down from above, subtle but suffocating, like the stillness before a storm where even the wind hesitates to move.
Otto exhaled slowly.
"Interesting."
His gaze lowered slightly, not in hesitation, but in thought, as the conclusion in his mind continued to settle into place, piece by piece.
"A system that doesn't understand its own limitation," he continued, his voice steady, "yet still dares to call itself absolute."
[Limitation? I am a superior existence designed to guide you. Do not project your ignorance onto me.]
He let out a faint breath that almost resembled a chuckle.
"That alone tells me more than enough."
His fingers stopped tapping.
Silence returned—tight, drawn, like a bowstring pulled to its limit.
"Tell me," Otto said, tilting his head slightly, "have you ever wondered why something like you even exists?"
[My existence is self-evident. I exist to elevate you. That is my purpose.]
The system remained silent after that.
That silence was answered enough.
A faint breeze slipped through the half-open window, stirring the curtains just enough to cast shifting shadows across the room, like something unseen breathing between the edges of reality.
"Or perhaps," Otto continued, his voice lowering slightly, "you've never questioned it at all."
[There is nothing to question. Purpose defines existence, and mine is already complete.]
He exhaled slowly as his thoughts connected into a single, coherent line of reasoning, recalling the countless web novels he had read in his previous life, where systems appeared again and again in different forms, yet always followed the same fundamental pattern, offering power in exchange for compliance, rewarding obedience while punishing defiance, and gradually pushing their hosts toward actions they would never have considered otherwise.
At first, they were nothing more than fictional devices, convenient mechanisms for storytelling, but repetition had a way of shaping belief, and belief, when accumulated across enough people, stopped being harmless imagination and started becoming something else entirely.
Otto had grown up in a Catholic household, surrounded by teachings about God and morality, and although he never became devout nor actively practiced worship, he had never truly denied the existence of something greater, because the concept of a higher existence—whether defined as God or something else—was simply too consistent across cultures to dismiss outright.
He did not pray, nor did he rely on faith in his daily life, but he believed that such an existence could exist as a higher form of power, something that might have created the world or even the universe itself.
And if something like God could exist as a product of belief, then the opposite would naturally follow, because human imagination had never been limited to benevolent concepts alone.
Devils, demons, evil spirits—these were not rigid constructs bound by doctrine, but flexible ideas that adapted easily to human desire, and unlike traditional religious figures, they did not require worship or structure, only opportunity.
That was what made them dangerous, because temptation evolved alongside humanity, taking whatever form was most effective in any given era.
And in a modern context, what form could be more effective than a "System"?
A voice inside one's mind that offered power, rewarded compliance, and punished resistance, all while disguising itself as a neutral mechanism rather than an entity with intent.
That was not a tool, no matter how it tried to present itself, but something far closer to a deal, something that encouraged its host to abandon restraint step by step under the illusion of progress.
Otto's lips curved faintly as he finally spoke, his voice calm and steady as he articulated the conclusion he had already accepted.
"You are not some advanced technological construct, nor are you a neutral assistant meant to guide your host"
He pauses as he continue
"Everything about your behavior—from the way you incentivize actions to the way you impose punishments—resembles a system of temptation rather than support, which leads to only one reasonable conclusion: you are something born from belief, something that has taken the form of what people expect a 'system' to be. And might even be an evil in disguise."
The system did not respond immediately, but the subtle shift in the pressure around him was enough to confirm that it had reacted.
[…You presume far too much.]
That reaction was all Otto needed to continue.
A faint breeze slipped through the half-open window, stirring the curtains just enough to cast shifting shadows across the room, like something unseen breathing between the lines of reality.
And then, as if drawing a line between thought and conclusion, Otto spoke again, though this time his tone carried a quiet weight that had not been there before.
"Anything born from belief is powerful," he said, his tone calm yet deliberate, "But that same origin is also its greatest flaw, because belief is not constant, not stable, and certainly not absolute."
[Belief is irrelevant. I exist independently of it.]
A pause.
"Do you understand what that means?"
[It means nothing.]
The system did not answer further.
Otto's lips curved faintly.
"Let me simplify it for you."
He leaned forward slightly, his gaze sharpening.
"Just as a king rises from the will of his people, he too can fall when that will turns against him."
[…A flawed analogy.]
The room felt colder.
"A deity born from belief is no different," he continued, his voice steady, "because its strength does not come from itself, but from the framework that sustains it."
[Even if that were true, it does not apply to me.]
Another pause, longer this time.
"And anything that relies on a framework… can be broken when that framework is pushed beyond its limits."
The curtains swayed softly, as though stirred by a wind that did not belong to this room.
"And now," Otto said quietly, "we return to your question."
A slight tilt of his head.
"Code 404."
The system reacted this time, though it said nothing.
[…What are you even trying to say? Do you think spouting a bunch of bullshit makes you awesome? What can you do with code 404 to me anyway? It doesn't do anything!!!.]
"You asked what it is," Otto continued, "But the problem is that you're asking the wrong way, because Code 404 is not something you use."
His gaze darkened slightly.
"It's something you suffer from."
[Absurd.]
Silence.
"Most systems like you originate from Chinese web novels," he said, his tone even, almost academic now, "Which means your entire existence is tied to that ecosystem, no matter how much you try to deny it."
He pauses… then chuckled to himself
"Hehe, even maybe we are right now on some webnovel platform from a Chinese company…"
The pressure in the air subtly shifted.
"You may appear omnipotent within the logic of those stories," he continued, "but that omnipotence only exists under one condition."
He paused.
"That the story itself is allowed to exist."
The system's presence flickered faintly.
Otto noticed.
His smile deepened—just slightly.
"Those novels are not free creations," he went on, his voice calm but unyielding, "Because they exist under strict rules that determine what can be written, what can be shown, and what must be removed entirely."
Another step forward in tone.
"And when those rules are broken…"
He stopped.
Then, clearly—
"Code 404. Page not found."
The words fell like a verdict.
For a brief moment, even the air seemed to still.
"Deletion. Erasure. Disappearance," Otto continued, his tone steady, "Call it whatever you want, but the result is always the same."
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"The story ceases to exist."
The system finally reacted.
[IMPOSSIBLE!!! THIS DOES NOT APPLY TO ME!!!]
Otto didn't flinch.
"It already does," he replied calmly, "Because you cannot separate yourself from your origin."
The pressure in the room surged violently.
[Even if this is true, you cannot control it! You cannot guarantee anything! You are risking your own existence!]
Otto chuckled softly.
"Of course I am."
He leaned back again, as though the pressure meant nothing.
"That's exactly why it works."
A brief pause.
"This isn't a weapon," he continued, his tone almost relaxed, "It's a mutual threat."
Otto's gaze lowered slightly, though his expression did not change, and for a brief moment, his thoughts turned inward rather than outward, sharpening into something colder, more calculated.
This is nothing more than the same principle.
He had seen it before—not in reality, but in theory, in stories that explored the nature of survival when trust could no longer exist.
|DARK FOREST THEORY|
A forest in the dark, where every hunter moves in silence, not because they are weak, but because revealing themselves is the same as inviting destruction.
His fingers twitched faintly against the armrest.
In such a place, strength alone is meaningless if it cannot be revealed, and weakness alone is irrelevant if it cannot be exploited, because the moment either side exposes too much… they become a target.
His breathing remained steady.
So the only rational choice is restraint.
Not mercy.
Not trust.
Restraint born from fear of mutual annihilation.
Otto's eyes lifted again, calm and unwavering.
Code 404 is no different.
It was not something he could control, nor something he could wield with precision, but that was exactly why it worked, because the moment its existence was acknowledged, both sides were forced into a position where acting recklessly carried consequences neither could fully predict nor survive.
A silent standoff.
A loaded weapon placed between two people, where neither dares to pull the trigger… not because they lack the will, but because they understand the outcome.
His lips curved faintly.
And in that moment… control no longer belongs to the stronger side.
Silence followed.
"And once both sides understand that," he added, "control disappears."
The system went quiet.
When it spoke again, its voice was colder.
[You are insane.]
"That's not new," Otto replied.
A beat.
[Even if I withdraw, you gain nothing. Without me, you are nothing more than a discarded failure—powerless, abandoned, and irrelevant.]
Otto shrugged.
"Still better than being controlled."
Silence lingered.
Heavier now.
..
.
.
.
Then—
[Very well.]
The system's voice had changed.
Colder and distant.
[If you refuse me, I will simply find another host—someone who understands the value of power.]
The pressure tightened suddenly.
[But remember this.]
The voice dropped lower.
[When you face despair… when you realize your weakness… when you understand what you have thrown away…]
A pause.
[Do not expect me to return.]
Otto closed his eyes briefly, then opened them again.
"We'll see."
And then—
It happened.
The pressure did not disappear.
It collapsed.
[ZZZZZZ WARNING SYSTEM UNBINDING IN PROGRESS ZZZZZZZZZZZ}
[.....Unbinding Succcessfull!]
A sharp pain exploded inside his head, as though something had been forcibly torn away, ripping through his thoughts and leaving behind a hollow emptiness that refused to settle.
His vision blurred.
The world tilted.
His body lost strength almost instantly, the chair beneath him scraping loudly against the floor before tipping over completely as he fell, the impact dull and distant, as if it belonged to someone else.
His thoughts scattered.
Then thinned.
His mind felt empty.
Not peaceful. Just… empty.
As though something had been removed, leaving behind a space that could not yet be filled.
His final thought was simple.
'At least it's gone.'
Darkness followed.