[Arcane Tower]
[Research Hub]
While George struggled to survive just one more day, the world didn't pause for him. Progress and development continued to accelerate.
Albus Reif, lead scientist at one of the top government institutions on the X-12 star planet, paced back and forth in his private lab inside the research hub. His steps were hurried, his expression contemplative, as he muttered under his breath:
"What the hell is this new force, appearing out of nowhere?"
His assistant, standing nearby, glanced at him with a puzzled expression.
"Professor, isn't it a good thing? Thanks to this force, the planet is stabilizing."
Without breaking his stride, Albus snapped back:
"It is good—for now. The planet's drift away from the sun has slowed, like some massive weight is anchoring it. But listen, you idiot—what's unknown is always more dangerous than what we understand."
As he finished speaking, Albus glanced at his assistant's face—still caught in a loop of confusion and awe.
He exhaled with a small, tired smile and shook his head.
"You really don't get it... but maybe that's not a bad thing."
Turning back to his work, Albus faced the softly glowing holographic projection from the mechine in front of him . Lines of data and planetary simulations flowed across it in a quiet, elegant rhythm.
He had spoken of danger, uncertainty, and the unknown. But deep down, Albus Reif felt something else.
Hope.
The numbers didn't lie—the planet's drift had slowed. The runaway trajectory that would've thrown them beyond the sun's reach in thirty years had halted. Something—was intervening.
And for once, the universe wasn't spiraling toward chaos.
Albus allowed himself a rare smile.
"Maybe… just maybe, this time the unknown is on our side."
--------------------
Meanwhile george anaware of the major problem of the world caused by the record he carrying
After a short break—five minutes face-down on the couch, staring at the ceiling figured it was time to test his new abilities. Just a bit of casual god-tier experimenting. Nothing major.
It began with a bug. Not a software glitch—a real bug. A tiny, wingless thing crawling across his desk like it had taxes to file. Curious and a bit bored, George didn't squash it like most people would. Instead, he reached out with something deeper: his Record.
What happened next wasn't flashy. No dramatic twitching, no sudden philosophical awakening. The bug just… stopped. Like it forgot how to be a bug. In that pause, George felt it.
Its whole existence. Its survival instincts. Its brief, unimpressive life. Its equally unimpressive Record unfolded in George's mind like a sad diary entry.
[RECORD] – He could now store whatever his Record assimilated—even bugs with zero ambition.
[MERGE] – He could combine any Records he'd absorbed. Like digital scrapbooking for souls.
[MANIFEST] – He could recreate stored Records—of people, objects, ideas—but it drained his mental energy.
And while a normal person's stamina might be a football, George's was more like a soggy tennis ball left in the rain.
One more use, and he might forget how to tie his shoes.
Luckily, there was a loophole: destroying a Record—whether from a thing or a person—restored some energy. Like a psychic shot of espresso.
All that… from a bug. As it curled up and died, George felt a tiny boost in mental energy from his record that given to the bug and the bugs own record
"Not a bad start," he muttered. "One dead bug closer to enlightenment."
He looked at the clock. 3:28 PM. He'd missed lunch.
"Perfect. Psychic powers? Check. Still human enough to get hangry? Double check."
"Now food time"
Suddenly, George's phone started to ring. He checked the screen.
"Victor."
A name surfaced from the depths of his fragmented memories—unfamiliar and yet oddly familiar. The receptionist. No, more than that. His personal secretary.
Victor Albrecht.
Perhaps the only person even remotely close to the friendless and rigid George Helel.
The memory rose uninvited, like a wisp of smoke curling from the back of his mind. Victor had always been the embodiment of professionalism—never personal, never intrusive. He remained firmly within the boundaries of his role, performed each task with mechanical precision, and vanished into his solitary world without a word.
George shook his head and answered the call.
"Hello, Victor. What now?"
On the other end, a deep, composed voice replied,
"Sir, for tomorrow's meeting, you must be ready by 8 a.m We need to reach the Federation before 10 ,I'll bring the car."
George froze.
What meeting?
Federation? What the hell is he talking about?
Panic danced just beneath the surface of his mind, but his voice betrayed none of it. Without hesitation, the words came out on their own:
"Understood. I'll be ready."
Too calm. Too smooth. Like muscle memory in a body that wasn't entirely his.
The call ended with a soft click, leaving only silence—and questions.
The Federation.
Yes, he remembered that word. From somewhere in the haze of broken recollections.
A place of power. The meeting ground for world leaders, corporate titans, and shadow brokers—where decisions were made that shaped the course of history.
What could he possibly be doing there?
Why was he—George Helel—invited to such a gathering?
His hands clenched slightly. The face in the mirror stared back, unreadable. Colorless, except for a flower pot shimmered behind him and dust of colours spread through his office like threads of something unspoken.
_________