The sky above Cindar City was a perfect hue of violet, swirling in strange magnetic patterns as if the atmosphere itself had begun reacting to Auron's evolving consciousness. His thoughts no longer felt limited to his skull. He sat cross-legged in the mountains, overlooking the cityscape — a thousand lights flickering below, each representing a mind, a stream of thoughts, a fragment of the greater puzzle he was slowly mastering.
For weeks now, Auron had avoided interaction. He had withdrawn, submerged in silence, obsessed with cracking the final wall of the cognitive hierarchy — *himself*. Not the world, not people, not logic or reality. Himself.
His IPS had reached levels even he couldn't quantify. Every time he attempted to calculate the total margin consistency across his concept web, he encountered paradoxes — like trying to count numbers inside infinity.
"This is the final frontier," he whispered to the night wind. "*The self is the last existent to targich.*"
With the full arsenal of powers behind him — [COSMIC SYNTHESIS PROTOCOL], [EMPATHIC OVERRIDE], [HYPERANALYTIC DISSECTION], [SEQUENCED PATTERN ABSORPTION], and [TEMPORAL LOGIC LOOP] — Auron focused inward.
Through his [Cognitive Framework System], a new interface emerged — glowing red and green, forming the shape of a human silhouette. Inside it were fractal webs, dancing equations, infinite memory corridors, and meta-concepts spiraling inwards.
Auron realized: he had never fully targiched *himself*. His past. His *own* takagoxical structures.
He reached deep into his childhood, reprocessing the earliest margins — the moment he realized adults lied, the first time he asked why the sky was blue, the frustration of not being understood. He relived these moments not as memories, but as *existents*. Every memory was a margin to be analyzed, processed, and internalized without influence.
For the first time, he saw himself…objectively.
And in doing so, the chains snapped.