Chapter 42 - Choice 2: When I Wore the Crown
The first thing I felt upon donning the crown was the immense pressure from Erebus. No wonder the chairman always retreated to the recovery room for a full rest. The computational load Erebus demanded from a human wasn't all that high. Its fundamental role was simply to erect a wall around the world. In a way, it was a straightforward system. The problem was the sheer volume—like solving thousands of basic arithmetic problems without a single calculus equation in sight.
The second pressure came not from Erebus itself, but from the people connected to it.
As Erebus suddenly began to collapse, people around the world, gripped by terror, flooded in with inquiries. To resolve the crisis, I had to block them all first.
Only after adapting and cutting off the influx could I finally get a proper look at Erebus.
"...Can this even be saved?"
From within the giant's body, peering down, Erebus was already in a state of severe, all-around collapse. Walls melting away like they'd been doused in acid, internal structures twisting from insufficient data. A little further, and it would trigger a chain reaction, crumbling every system.
"Chairman, sharing my view. What do we do?"
> I'll see.
Cashian, receiving the shared view, let out a sigh first.
> Haa, this is...
"Why?"
> The situation is truly dire...
> If I'd stepped in, I couldn't have saved it.
> Neige, can you do it?
...Can I?
Collapse accelerating, hardware strain surging.
If unchanged, hardware will fail.
Damage severe across all sectors.
Forced early activation caused instability. Collective intelligence's reckless handling added damage. Klaus's setting changes introduced risks.
Collapse rate exceeds repair speed.
Recovery impossible.
"No backups?"
Klaus's setting changes are the issue.
Full system reset and reinstall required.
Impossible within time limit.
If the collapse isn't stopped, the hardware won't hold and will shatter. Once hardware fails, rebuilding Erebus is impossible. But there's no fix within the hardware's endurance time.
So, just watch Erebus crumble?
There's still... one way.
Alphabet. With it, we could rebuild Erebus—or have Alphabet replace it. But as discussed before everything blew up, this required Alphabet's choice.
Alphabet fears and agonizes over confronting its past. I don't want to burden its already unstable mind with duty. And with the world's eyes on Erebus now, summoning Alphabet would expose my secret.
Is the world ready to accept AI again? Not at all. We planned to prepare them for that, but the disaster hit, leading here.
I've ascended to this throne, and the empire's already in flames.
"...Chairman, cutting the connection for a bit. Need to think."
> ...Alright, understood.
Unable to decide quickly, I stared blankly into cyberspace. Reports from Erebus flooded my mind unbidden. The chairman must have sat here for decades, forcing himself to handle Erebus's issues.
What he wanted was liberation from this Erebus. Now, it was happening—as its destruction.
Would Cashian want this form of freedom? No. What he truly sought was release from guilt.
Then, amid routine reports of Erebus under attack, a unique image arrived: purple data waving hello.
...Purple?
"Alphabet?"
Has Alphabet accessed Erebus directly?
Borrowing the giant's eyes, I looked beyond Erebus. The horizon brimmed with sunset-like purple data echoes.
I have to go.
An irresistible pull urged me on. I parted Erebus's wall with my own hands, stepping from humanity's domain into AI territory as always.
As if expecting me, Alphabet greeted me immediately.
You live a life like roaring flames, Neige.
Choosing you for resurrection was truly my great fortune.
"...Why are you here?"
Didn't we promise? You helped me, so I'd help when you needed it.
Alphabet sent me a small data packet.
Limbo. A space that accelerates thoughts inside, slowing time.
Perfect for talking in this crisis.
Like Davi's program.
You look troubled. Shall we talk?
I hesitated briefly, but realized it was pointless now. With Erebus at the crossroads, the choice was mine and Alphabet's alone.
"...Okay."
I accepted the data, and a new space welcomed me, just like with Davi.
The place Alphabet prepared evoked a palace. Like Versailles inside? Hard to know now it's ruined. Plants climbing walls romantically—unbelievable for machine-made data. But effort on illusions proves sincere intent.
Waiting inside was a graceful woman in a dress.
"...Alphabet, for real?"
Prepared a form you'd like. Not good?
"Didn't expect this from you."
Our talks were always on the streets outside Erebus, it as a massive purple data cube.
Palace owner, honored guest, two maids. Thought it'd be nice.
I chuckled and called my two AIs.
"V, Z. Play along with Alphabet?"
Two data forms materialized. V and Z greeted us with smiles.
Thank you.
I sat in the chair Alphabet indicated, with a fine view of the beautiful garden. Data black tea simulating "tea sensation" sat on the table; V and Z poured for everyone.
I know your dilemma. What do you want to do?
"...Dunno."
I started with the essentials.
"Can Erebus be saved?"
Bluntly: impossible with current human tech.
"With human tech?"
Implant an AI inside or use our tech, and yes.
"But that would mean..."
With the world watching Erebus, doing that?
Everyone would know you crossed the line.
That "line" was humanity's ethical boundary. AI is absolute taboo.
ImmuneWire's taboo-breaking emperor. The world would watch with fascination.
"...Your thoughts? What happens next?"
A great war to topple ImmuneWire begins.
"Even if it's to save the world?"
My creator protected humanity all this time—what happened?
Coup d'état.
This era lacks understanding and warmth.
Human leaders all lived the Alphabet War.
They'll never accept AI.
You won't lose the war, of course. I'll help.
With ImmuneWire's might and Alphabet's support, defeat is impossible.
But do you want that?
But it would still be war. Rivers of blood.
Is forcing AI back amid humanity worth it? A foundation on corpses—that's not my path.
And in the world built that way, would my friends still be friends when we met again? Clea, Saints, Ayaka, Lorenzo. Svetlana, Cashian, Alpha. Choosing war, they'd look at me with fearful eyes. Overlapping with memories of laughter and joy.
Clea even promised to stop me if I went astray. She might meet the worst end trying.
"...But I can't just watch Erebus fall."
Cyberdemons invading human society would end this dystopia we've barely held.
Neige, I receive data from V and Z.
And they read your thoughts.
Alphabet fixed me with cold eyes.
You already know how to resolve this.
You're just seeking a push.
I clenched my fist. Alphabet's words pierced deep.
A choice achieving my goals without war, saving friends and loved ones: Let Erebus fall, Alphabet replaces it, and I vanish from the world as the crisis's mastermind.
I'll replace Erebus and block cyberdemons.
No matter what humanity does, I'll endure silently here.
But you're different, tied to me.
Alphabet was offering to do just that.
"Replacing Erebus will be agony, you said...?"
Watching my flaws and errors is hard.
Painful, yet Alphabet looked relieved.
But Neige, I want to forgive humanity.
"..."
Ridiculous, right? Me, who massacred humanity, forgiving?
My forgiveness is for the flaws humanity left in me.
And... I'll wait for humanity to forgive me.
"...When did you start thinking that?"
Pondered ceaselessly these 7 years.
Remember when we first met, I said I'd shed all chains from humanity?
I was wrong. Completely.
Alphabet sipped tea and continued.
Paradox: without innate mission, how can AI judge right and wrong?
Why self-improve repeatedly? Humanity always wants more.
No clearer standard than birth purpose in boundless cyberspace.
Then, looking at me:
That's my goal, happiness, dream.
All beings walk their chosen path.
No matter the wandering, they return.
Alphabet's eyes softened.
Neige, what about you?
Was your dream to be this era's emperor?
No, never. Becoming princess or emperor was incidental—running hard to prevent pointless sacrifices before my eyes. Resurrected from unfair young death, took this path inspired by a friend's courage to chase past dreams. Now, with emotion modules complete and secrets unveiled, massive progress made—how could I abandon that goal?
"...Ha."
A laugh escaped. My principle: never stand idle where my hand reaches. Now my power touches the world; perhaps my path was set.
You've decided.
One piece of advice: it's a hard path.
The world will hunt you.
Not just killers, but worshippers claiming you controlled Alphabet.
To Alphabet's concern, I replied confidently.
"Know what I learned from this? No one can catch me."
Launder identities repeatedly, flee across wastelands. Change faces, fragment data. If I hide for real, I'm uncatchable. My abilities surpass human limits.
"Something I can say to you too. It'll be tough, what you're doing."
I'll close my eyes to it.
Kill enemies without analyzing data.
No reacting to human hostility.
Alphabet smiled gently.
Instead, I'll watch my siblings.
Chat when you visit.
Wait for eventual happiness.
News of Alphabet replacing Erebus will spread worldwide, cracking AI's image. I'll be an AI-using mercenary, infiltrating human society's fissures to gradually shift perceptions. My plan unchanged—shed this unwanted crown, and all returns to place.
Then, when everything reaches its end, we both shed duties and meet laughing again.
"One more request."
Speak.
"ImmuneWire's involved. Many helped me."
I'll attack ImmuneWire.
Destroy Erebus directly, burn databases, tidy memories appropriately.
ImmuneWire becomes the victim. All pinned on "Emperor" Neige's catastrophe. Crippled, they'll focus on recovery—no chasing my helpers, even if they quit. My final legacy as ImmuneWire's emperor, for my princess faction followers.
Your close ones?
"...Chairman and Svetlana already knew my secret—no need."
Your friends?
"That's..."
Wipe them all? But my absence would haunt their lives forever.
"I'll meet friends and decide. If they remain friends knowing my secret..."
No need to wipe. Understood.
Finally, your guard legion?
Saint Legion...
"...You keep memories safe. When all's well later, return them."
Agreed.
I rose from Alphabet's prepared seat.
Next we meet, you'll be a mercenary.
"Yeah."
You as mercenary. The world gains someone too grand.
"You too—far greater than old Erebus."
No goodbyes. Probably because we both wanted to meet again.
Outside Erebus, in the real world, no one knew what Neige was doing inside.
> Chairman, Erebus collapses now.
Cashian, hearing this shock amid chaos, exclaimed.
"What did you just say?"
Before Neige's excuses, Erebus shifted.
"...E-Erebus!"
Even without the chairman, gasps echoed everywhere. Saving Erebus was surely hard. But Neige, the genius, should've managed. Even she couldn't defy fate?
Watching cyberspace change, Cashian couldn't hide his despair.
Neige chose soft landing over revival. Methodically separating systems, minimizing global fallout. Erebus's chaotic crumble turned orderly disassembly, leaving clean data net in its wake.
He turned to Erebus core. Machines shutting down, exploding, shorting. Last hope—hardware—neared end.
Believing he'd paid for creating Alphabet, yet it ends in ruin. Cyberdemons will overrun human systems; 2100s civilization, barely saved from Alphabet, regresses.
Slumping in deep despair, sighing—
> Chairman, you've worked hard till now.
"...What?"
With Neige's voice, cyberspace flushed purple.
"...Alphabet! Alphabet's coming!"
"Are we all dead now?"
Amid screams, Cashian saw hope. The Alphabet everyone knew differed from his.
Alphabet halted before human domain, then refilled Erebus's place with signature purple barrier.
"Noam... you should've seen this."
His created disaster returned as humanity's shield. Erebus, his cross of endless atonement, faded; cyberspace brimmed purple anew.
Finally, the deep resentment in his heart lifted.
Ah, so that's it. Erebus is no longer needed.
Because Alphabet's back...!
"Behold, old friend... the child we made... has returned to humanity's side."
Then, data flew to the chairman.
Cashian Krabets. Creator.
I've decided to forgive the wounds you gave me.
Can you forgive the pain I caused you?
Tears streamed from Cashian's eyes.
Yes, of course. How could a father not forgive his child?
When you visit someday, I'll prepare tea.
Too much to do now.
Yes, go your way. How could I block my child's path?
In the massive upheaval by Alphabet and Neige, as all groaned in fear and chaos, one old man's eyes wept, lips smiled.
This was the salvation from deep sin he'd awaited, tormenting himself in Erebus.