"I always believed I was an orphan. Growing up in the cold, impersonal walls of the orphanage, I never had any reason to think otherwise. There were no kind letters from distant relatives, no wistful tales of lost parents—just the stark reality of abandonment. But... I just went through the first game in Neo-Genis and... I had received a gift... I unlocked a new skill, but upon clicking on that skills, a torrent of images surged into my mind—memories that didn’t belong to me, yet felt uncannily familiar. I saw a small, cluttered house, a woman with kind eyes and rough hands, and a man whose face was a blur of anger and sorrow. These memories insisted I was not as alone as I had always believed, that I had once belonged to a family—albeit a family marked by turmoil and abuse. I was confused... why is my memories so jumbled, why does it feel familiar, why am I crying... "

Orion is sitting next to a grave as he speaks. The grave has no name, only a phrase "A friend everyone deserves to have...". The headstone is facing towards a cliff, upon which Orion has his legs dangling down. Beneath the cliff is a little pond, and off in the distance is a beautiful sunset. Holding a can of beer, he takes a sip after clinking it with one right next to the grave, a silent toast to the companion who once filled his days with laughter and warmth. Taking a deep sip, Orion allows the bitter taste to mingle with the lump in his throat. 

As he speaks, his voice is a whisper, carried away by the wind. "You were always there, even when no one else was. I hope, wherever you are, you can hear me. I miss you, buddy. More than words can say... Sorry for yapping man, Its been a while since we have talked, hope you're doing good up there man. I will probably be hanging out in Neo-Genis for a bit more... I need to know more, I think there's tons of secret in that system... perhaps... finding those secrets will let me find my own too."

Orion sighs and looks at the grave, taking the can that was next to the grave, he pours it over the grave and nods. Sighing, he turns around and starts to walk away. With each step, the golden light of the sun sets, turning into a bloody red, before just a lonely darkness. Orion looks back for a moment, perhaps in another world, another time, the ghost of his friend would be sitting there, waving at Orion goodbye... but sadly, there is only silence. Turning back, he walks away, on his own path... alone.

Orion leaves his house for the first time in a month. His co-workers over at NASA has harassed him since he was a close member of the Artemis program. Though... Neo-Genis has caught his attention much more. He just recently finished another game, another... mission, and it rewarded him with a level in Neo-Genis. Expected of course, but something interesting happened... Orion started to hear another voice in his head. He thought perhaps he was hallucinating at first, but it always referred to itself as... Aurora. Which shouldn't be. That was the last name he gave to Luminous, his long term used name after all... why did he choose it? he couldn't say at all, he always felt a sense of connection to the name.

Letting the winds take him as he walks along the sidewalk, contemplating what IS Neo-Genis, and where these memories are coming from, he sees a child run by. The child had pure white hair and he was holding a girl hand, she had blond hair with soft eyes, it looked like she just cried perhaps? They both appear to be around 4-5 years old and both were laughing, giving Orion a strong and weird sense of nostalgia. Looking at where they just came from, he finds a church, upon which causes Orion to sigh.

"What's the worse that could happen? Weird stuff has been happening already" and so he takes a step into the church. Upon entering, its oddly empty, only a father praying to god at the very front. Orion walks around for a bit, before he feels a urge, a calling, a pulling sensation that drags him towards the back of the church. One step at a time, his stomach starts to feel queasy, his hand starts sweating, as he feels like he might vomit, but he doesn't know why. 

As he continues walking, it feels like his leg is slowly becoming like lead. Each step took almost all of his effort, as his mind starts blanking out and his vision starts darkening, he sees where his gut feeling lead him to. A cemetery. There isn't many here, but he looks around for a bit, before 2 names catches his eye.

"Here Lies Aurora Lucent, The Night Always Shined When He Smiled"

"Here Lies Lania Ellinia, Nature Bloomed With Her Presence"

Looking at the names, Orion suddenly realizes its starting to rain, as his eyes burn, though oddly this rain is salty as he licks his lips. Feeling visceral pain, he collapses onto the ground. Fainting...

Waking up, he finds himself at his bed again, but this time, the voice is more prevalent... "Hey, Luminous, Got lost again?"

I sat alone in the dim light of the evening, the golden hues of the sunset reminding me of something I could barely grasp—a light that once burned within me, pure and untouchable. As the memory unfurled, I realized it wasn’t just mine. It belonged to someone else. Someone I had been. Someone I still was, in fragments.

I was Luminous. Not just a name, but a purpose. The last remnant of light born from the someone's corruption, a spark he cast out in his ascension to becoming a Transcendent. They called me the Starchild, a human forged from light by the mages of Aurora. They raised me, sheltered me, and hid me in Harmony, a pocket dimension far from that person's shadow.

And then there was Lucia. My constant, my best friend, and—though I didn’t know it then—my shield. She was the lamb they raised for slaughter, a decoy meant to draw that person's wrath when he finally came. And he did. I see it now as if I’m standing there again. Her face, pale and determined, as she stepped into the storm meant for me. Her light extinguished so mine could endure.

I see us, a small band of adventurers and friends, gathered at the Dragon Master’s Tower. The flames of a soldier warning, lighting the way as we prepared for the end of the world. A fellow magician, a archer, a warrior, a thief, and a pirate — we were a force bound by hope and desperation. The battle that followed, though... it was chaos.

In the final days of that war, I walked alongside heroes who became legends. Together, we breached the Temple of Time, each step heavier with the weight of what we knew had to be done. The magician plan was desperate—a gamble to seal that person away using the stolen Transcendent powers absorbed into the Seal Stones. But the price...

The pirate. I can barely remember him now, only the hollow space where he existed. He chose to sacrifice his time, his very existence, to activate the seal. I argued. We all did. But he was resolute. And then... he was gone. Not even a whisper of his memory remained, save for the void he left in our hearts.

The duel with that person burns brightest in my memory. His dark magic clashed with my light, each strike shaking the foundation of the Temple of Time. But he was stronger, far stronger than any of us could have imagined. When the magician's plan finally took hold and the Seal Stones began to activate, that person lashed out in desperation.

I see myself lunging forward to stop him, a foolish move born of necessity. When my light met his darkness, something shifted. I felt it like a wound splitting open, a crack in the core of who I was. His darkness seeped into me, leaving one of my eyes stained crimson, a permanent mark of the battle that changed everything.

That person was sealed behind the Gate of the Present, and we were expelled from the Temple of Time, cast down into the burning lands of Leafre. But I... I never made it out. The temple’s frozen grasp claimed me, locking me in a timeless slumber.

Now, as Orion, I sit with the weight of a life I lived long ago yet faintly remember... It feels like a dream, but the ache in my chest tells me it’s more than that. I don’t know what I’m meant to do with these memories, this fractured past, but one thing is clear: the darkness I carry isn’t just his. It’s mine now. And maybe, just maybe, it always was.

- Orion

I’ve been in Neo-Genis long enough now to know that this world has a way of exposing you. Every encounter, every challenge—it peels back your layers, leaving you raw and vulnerable. And lately, I’ve started to notice something... unsettling. A shadow creeping along the edges of my thoughts.

The system is vast, beautiful, and chaotic, but it’s also unrelenting. It doesn’t just test your skills; it tests your soul. I can feel something inside me shifting—small at first, like a pebble dropped into a still pond. But the ripples are spreading. The missions, the choices, the pressure—it’s wearing me down, or maybe... it’s bringing something out.

I don’t like what I see in myself sometimes. The frustration that bubbles up when things don’t go my way, the quick flashes of anger, the cold calculation in my decisions. The system has this way of magnifying what’s inside you, and I’m terrified that what it’s revealing isn’t something I want to face.

So, I fight it the only way I know how: with light.

I’ve started cracking more jokes, teasing the others in my group. It’s easier when I’m with them—making someone laugh feels like a victory against the darkness that’s trying to take root. Even when I’m struggling, I pretend I’m fine. Maybe if I smile enough, I’ll start to believe it too.

Today, I joked with Iphus about their students. “Do you think you’ve lectured enough to your students? You’re one lecture away from turning a echo chamber haha.” They laughed, and for a moment, I forgot about the storm inside me.

But when the mission ended and we all logged off, I sat alone in my digital hub and stared at the flickering interface. The silence was heavy. Too heavy. That’s when it creeps in—the corruption. It’s not a program or code; it’s something deeper, something in me.

I wonder if the system knows what it’s doing to me. Is this by design? A trial to see who can hold on to their humanity the longest? Or am I just a flaw in its logic, a player who can’t adapt to the weight of this world?

I’m trying, though. Trying to remember who I am. Who I was. The jokes, the lighthearted teasing—they’re not just for the others. They’re for me, too. They’re my anchor, a way to remind myself that I’m still here, still human.

Sometimes, I wonder if this is how you lose yourself—not all at once, but in small, quiet moments where the darkness feels just a little more comfortable than the light.

But I won’t let it win. Not yet.

Tomorrow, I’ll log back in. I’ll crack another joke, maybe make someone roll their eyes or smile. I’ll keep finding those little sparks of light, even if they feel far away. Because as long as I can laugh, as long as I can make someone else laugh, I know there’s still something worth fighting for.

The darkness may be patient, but so am I.

It’s been hours since I logged out, and I still feel the weight of it pressing on my chest. The darkness lingers like a stormcloud, heavy and suffocating, and no matter how hard I try to shake it, it clings to me.

It’s not just the system nor the objective—it’s me. My own memories, my own past, twisted and sharpened into a blade I can’t seem to stop turning on myself.

I hate how easy it is for it to take root, how quickly the anger wells up inside me. Sometimes it’s like a fire, burning so hot I can barely think, and other times it’s more like a slow, creeping poison. The worst part is, it feels familiar. Too familiar. Like it’s always been there, waiting for the right moment to take control.

There was a moment today—just a moment—when I felt it rise, and I almost let it. The idea of giving in, of letting the rage consume me, felt so tempting. Like it would be easier, like it would hurt less. But I can’t. I won’t.

I’ve seen what happens to people who let it take over. They lose themselves, piece by piece, until there’s nothing left but the shadow of who they were. And I refuse to let that be my story.

So, I fight it the only way I know how—by holding onto the light, no matter how dim it gets.

I made someone laugh today. A stupid joke, something about their ridiculous outfit choice. It didn’t matter what I said; what mattered was the way they grinned, how the tension in the room eased for just a moment. That’s what I need to remember: it’s not about me. It’s about the connections I make, the light I can bring to others.

Even if I’m breaking inside, I can’t let them see it. If I falter, if I let the darkness win, then it spreads. So, I laugh. I tease. I keep my head up, even when everything inside me is screaming to give up.

But it’s hard. God, it’s so hard.

I wonder sometimes if this is who I really am—or if the light is just a mask I wear to keep the shadows from swallowing me whole. I don’t know anymore. But what I do know is that I can’t stop.

I’ll keep fighting, one step at a time, one joke at a time, one moment of light at a time. Because the moment I stop...

That’s when I’ll be gone.

I can’t forget it, no matter how hard I try.

It started with pride—a hollow shield to hide the gnawing weight inside me. I remember standing there, face to face with him, the man who dared to call himself a father. The words came sharp and cutting, a weapon forged from disgust and defiance. I taunted him, dragged his sins into the open, made him feel the weight of the shame he should have carried all along. It was my armor, my distraction. If I could make him flinch, maybe I wouldn’t have to face what was breaking inside me.

But then, the consequences.

When it happened, something in me snapped. I wasn’t angry anymore. Anger is hot, wild, impulsive. No, this was cold, calculated—a stillness that chilled me to the bone.

I wasn’t myself.

There were no quips, no sneers, no traces of the light I had clung to so desperately. I became something else. Silent. Unrelenting. The rage settled deep in my chest, an anchor dragging me down into the darkness.

Ē̴̼͔̱̺͙̊͑̀͗̿͛̔̚͝R̵̨̢͍̍͊́̐̈͌̉̅͛R̸͇̱̝̺͓̔̆̀͋͗̇̃͜Ö̷̱́̾̽̓̇̈̆̍͝Ȑ̸͕͚̹̘̱͐̀̈́͊̀̕͠.̶̡͓̪̗̭̗͉̳̱̭͋͛̐̋͌̂̓̊̿̈ ̸̨̼̬̗̗̫͎̆̓͗͒̏̀D̷̘̰̋̾̀̽͊Ä̴̧͕͔̪͓̱͊͛̈́́͋̂̆̓̋T̵̜͇̘͖͚͐̎̈́̑ͅA̸̢̱̻̹̗͈̝̺͖̮͗̽̀̾͠ ̴̡̩͚̙͙̟͕͇͐̋͑Ĥ̸̛̺͉̰͈̺̻͇̬̾̏̃̐͐͝A̸͈̯̱͊̂̓́̾̀̊̏̑̕S̸̢̬̩̰̩͍̯̆͂̇̃͗̈́̄ ̸̛̠̐̇͛͝Ḅ̶̗̰̗͖̼̠͖̦̆Ë̸̞͙̄̍̓͝Ę̸̧̙̰̠̞̠̠͌̆Ṋ̸̛͕̘͑̈͆ ̶̢̧̟͈̃͛͒̉͜͠ͅR̵̛̠͍̺͆̊̊̚E̶̲̦͓͔͇̭̹͊́́̿̌̇̚D̷̞͈̠̊͊̆̅̀̒̅͜͝͝ͅA̷̧͔̫̳̜̝̕͝͠C̴͇͈̝̹̤̓̇͘T̴̡̡͖̫̯͌̀̈́̂̇E̶̛̖̒͛̋̍͘͝͝͠D̶̪̝̰͎̰̰̳̯͙͌̀͛̊͛ ̷̢̢̺̯̹̬̟͌̔̆͌̈̍F̷̟͛̃̐̽̏̒͝Ǒ̵̘̖̼̘̲͓̲̳͍̠͒͂͑R̶̡͕͈͈̮͚͕͕̆̄͛̍̓̑̈̾̐̚C̸̨̟̖̟̻̓̓̆͜Į̵̺̖̃̂́̾̌͗̈́̌̒̈́B̸̡̫̆͂̋̃͘Ļ̴̈́̽̀̃̔̃̌̈̾̓Ÿ̷͈͎̻̓̊̒̀̑

There was no room for doubt, no question of morality. It wasn’t justice; it wasn’t even revenge. It was fury, pure and unrestrained, wearing my face and speaking with my voice.

And then it was done.

I wish I could say I felt relief, or satisfaction, or even guilt. But I didn’t feel anything at all. Just an empty void where my heart should have been, a silence that echoed with the memory of my actions.

That memory... it haunts me. Not just for what I did, but for what it revealed. It’s in me. It’s always been there, waiting for a moment like that to take over.

Every time I close my eyes, I see it again. The moment I lost control. The moment I became something I never wanted to be. And now, as the darkness gnaws at the edges of my consciousness, I wonder if I can hold it back—or if it’s already too late.

This is my burden to bear, my consequence to face. The memory of my fury. The reminder of what I could become if I let go.

I can’t let it win. Not again. Not ever. But it’s getting harder to fight. I don’t know how much longer I can hold on.

That memory… it’s like a crack running through glass. Every time I think I’ve patched it up, something else hits, and the crack spreads. My humanity—that thing I once clung to like it was my anchor—is slipping away, and I can feel it happening.

I still smile, still laugh, still wear the face of the person I used to be. But it’s just a mask now, one I clutch with trembling hands, terrified of what will happen if it slips. Behind it, there’s nothing but shadow. A void. A place where rage simmers and mercy burns away to ash.

There was a time I could find solace in the small things—a kind word, a shared joke, the warmth of another’s presence. But now, even those feel hollow. Every time someone smiles back at me, I wonder if they see through the cracks. If they see the darkness leaking out around the edges.

I tell myself I’m still me, but I don’t even know what that means anymore. Am I the person who taunted that man, who gave the order to destroy him without a second thought? Or am I the person who now lies awake at night, haunted by the weight of what I’ve done?

Maybe I’m neither. Maybe I’m just… fading.

The scariest part is how tempting it is to let go. To stop fighting. To stop pretending. The mask is so heavy, and the darkness whispers promises that are hard to ignore. It tells me I don’t have to care, that I don’t have to feel, that I can be free if I just let it take over.

But I know that’s a lie. Freedom isn’t what’s waiting on the other side. What’s waiting is oblivion—the erasure of everything I ever was, everything I ever hoped to be.

So I keep fighting. I keep holding onto the mask, even as it crumbles in my hands. I keep pretending, not for anyone else, but for myself. Because if I stop, if I give in, then Orion is gone.

And what’s left… I don’t want to find out.

Maybe there’s still a way back, a way to rebuild what I’ve lost. But for now, all I can do is keep walking, step by step, through the darkness. Hoping that somewhere, somehow, I’ll find the light again. Or that it’ll find me. Before it’s too late.

Yet... I heard of a news. News that Maikendo was broken into. News that brought danger to those I hold closely. News that enraged me. I don’t remember exactly what happened next. I had plans of meeting and talking with someone... I had a feeling I did, yet, despite my trait, I have no recollection that I ever did. 

Whatever happened—whatever it triggered in me—it brought me closer to the edge than I’ve ever been. I can’t ignore it anymore. The darkness isn’t just creeping in. It’s taking over.

If I don’t find a way to stop it… there won’t be anything left of me.