Chapter 41: The World Without Scripts
The gate dissolved behind them.
Not slammed, not sealed—just ceased to exist.
Kael stepped forward first, barefoot on soil that wasn't registered in any archive, wasn't a projection or simulation, wasn't generated from Spiral's memory index. It simply was. Real. In the quietest, most confronting sense.
Aila followed, her steps cautious but steady. Oran hesitated at the threshold for a heartbeat longer, as if he could still hear the recursion humming behind him like an old song finally falling silent.
Then he too stepped forward.
---
They were in a valley.
Lush, alive, alien—but not hostile.
Mountains stretched across the horizon in shapes that defied Spiral's architectural symmetry. Trees bent in curves too natural for simulation. The air tasted unfiltered. It tasted… unaware.
Kael stopped walking and looked around.
No UI overlays.
No mission queues.
No projected enemy threat rings.
Just grass. Wind. Breath.
