Hidden Command

"Do you know how the Divine War ended?" Marek asked, his heart pounding with anticipation. Memories of that war flooded his mind, vivid and intense. It was the final chapter of his story and Marek Adeus Astra's known life.

Even he didn't know how it ended because he hadn't continued writing it.

[Milord, you have been fighting against the High Sovereigns of the Races. I cannot tell what happened to Milord... we thought you had died. This is a relief to see you again, Milord. I apologize…I, we thought you-]

'What about you and... the others?' Marek asked calmly.

The others referred to all those under Marek Adeus Astra's Empire. Whether it was Marek or Marek Adeus Astra, both sides placed great importance on these individuals.

[We all have been sealed.]

'Sealed? Not killed, huh?' Marek remarked.

There's no way any of them can die.

[Yes, Milord. High Lady Raizel and High Lord Dalquiel had, as you had envisioned, created a spell for all of us in this peculiar case.]

Marek recalled that to protect themselves from death and dissection they created a Self-Sealing High Scale God Rank Spell as a last resort. It was designed to safeguard their bodies from harm.

But it was meant to be a last resort.

Moreover Marek knew very well that if all the Great Races really meant it they would find a way to break through the seal even though it might take months. 

Thinking of the High Sovereigns filled Marek with deep hatred, directed toward the entire world of Ajekreia.

Reflecting on it, Marek felt no regret for his actions, despite antagonizing all the Great Races.

I should have killed all of them right from the start.

Even Marek hadn't expected all the Great Races, despite their differences and hatred toward each other, to ally themselves against him.

Despite noticing the blending of emotions and memories from both Mareks, Marek didn't seem to care. He accepted everything, wanting his mind to be clear for what he was about to do next.

"You gathered the brats?" Feras asked as they entered a room through a secret passage.

The room reeked of filth, serving as the headquarters of the bandits.

"Ay. This new one will get us a lot of money," Garen grinned as he looked down at the sack under his arms.

Probably a kidnapped child again.

A pitiful group, using children to survive.

He recognized the dozen children with him, all in a similarly dire state. Their torn and worn-out clothes were because of their mistreatment by Feras and his group but also because they needed to look like that for their job. Ranging in age from seven to twelve, they bore scars from years of abuse. Their blank expressions revealed the toll it had taken on them.

Marek didn't seem to harbor any emotions toward the children's plight. They were all humans, but he never had any compassion for them after his experiences in the world of Ajekreia. The newly arrived memories of his body didn't help him feel sympathy toward any of them either.

"Now! Give everything you have gathered for today!" Garen shouted, dropping a sack onto the ground.

It was late at night, and like every night, the children had to deliver the stolen goods they had acquired throughout the day. The more they brought, the more food they would receive. Falling below a certain threshold meant facing punishment in the form of whiplashes, rather than rewards.

[Milord, should I kill them?] Prometheus's icy monotone voice cut through the air.

'Can you in your current state?' Marek dismissed him.

[I apologize, Lord Marek. I would need some time to recover my basic capacities.] 

Right he was sealed-

Wait…

Marek furrowed his brow. 

Prometheus can't be sealed and I didn't give him such a program.

I had created him with safeguards against such occurrences without the need of any spells. 

Then Prometheus lied to me? 

No, Prometheus would never betray him, I'm his creator.

No, it seemed more likely that Prometheus believed he had been sealed due to losing consciousness before appearing in this world with me.

Could it be…

'Prometheus, active command.'

[Yes, Milord.]

An orange light illuminated in front of Marek, visible only to him.

Marek extended his hand and peered into Prometheus.

Is this even in a limited capacity?

Everything appeared rudimentary in the program, far simpler than it should be. The neural networks seemed severely limited.

Marek's initial reaction was one of annoyance and disgust at the sight of Prometheus in such a state. However, he quickly realized that something was amiss.

Prometheus should have been one of his last resorts to rely on, always in its best state at maximum capacity.

But why was everything reduced to basics and limitations?

The only plausible explanation was that someone had deliberately tampered with Prometheus's commands and programs, simplifying them for a specific purpose.

And that someone could only be me.

I'm the only one who has access to that much authorization and liberty on Prometheus. If I did that, then the reason I'm here is because of me as well?

Marek contemplated this realization. If he had indeed modified Prometheus, then it suggested that he had purposefully hidden something in his own memories. Neither he nor Prometheus had any recollection of such an act.

As Marek delved deeper into his thoughts, his lips twisted into a slight smirk. There was no logical reason to impose such severe limitations on Prometheus unless something was intentionally concealed within it.

If there was hidden code, what might that be? 

Marek mused, closing his eyes briefly. A single image flashed in his mind—a girl's face.

'Enter command: Nihil.'

The orange light intensified, turning a reddish hue as a torrent of information flooded forth.

Marek's smirk widened as he looked at the information before him. 

I couldn't expect any less from myself.

Understanding what lay hidden beneath Prometheus, Marek began to grasp why he had implemented such measures, yet several mysteries still remained.

In essence, this world served as an escape for Marek and his Apostles. 

Even though the notion of fleeing from the pathetic Great Races truly disgusts me to the core. I would have even preferred death. 

Yet, there must have been a reason why he chose to escape to another world, far from Ajekreia.

Despite his care for his Apostles, such as Raizel and the others of his Empire, Marek knew they shared his desire to crush the Great Races. They were his subjects and followers, after all.

What might have changed my mind about fighting until my last breath?

It wasn't like they were going to lose the war either.

'Prometheus.'

[Milord!]

'Now that I've unlocked it, you understand the implications.'

[Yes, Milord.] Prometheus replied, his tone now tinged with shock about what was hidden.

Marek experienced a strange sensation as the voice of Prometheus IA echoed in his mind, filled with both reverence and fear. 

In Ajekreia at least he had the form of a floating robot

'I ought to find him a physical form this time,' Marek mused, closing the command interface. With a touch to his chest, he focused his thoughts.

His current body was not the robust one he possessed in Ajekreia. Instead, it was weaker, unable to contain his original power. This frail human form wouldn't suffice.

It seems I've dispersed my strength across this world.

But he was unsure of its exact whereabouts.

Despite the uncertainty, Marek found that wasn't entirely bad as he had bought himself some time. It seemed unlikely that any of the Great Races would track him down in another world, though it was not entirely out of the realm of possibility.

Lost in thought, Marek's attention was suddenly drawn to a squirming sack nearby. As it wriggled free from its confines, strands of silver-white hair became visible, catching Marek's gaze.

A girl, a year or two younger than Marek, emerged from the wriggling sack. Her delicate and enchanting appearance immediately captured the attention of those around her. With deep red eyes resembling precious gems, she blinked them open.

"Oh, she's awake," Garen remarked with a grin.

The girl's reaction was immediate and intense. Panicked, she scanned her surroundings and attempted to move, only to find herself bound by ropes. Tears streamed down her terrified face as she shook her head vehemently.

Marek watched her in silence, his mouth slightly agape. He knew her instantly, her distinctive silver-white hair and ruby-like eyes…

Anastasia Nikolaevna Romanova.

Anastasia was one of the characters he had created for a game, slated to appear in a sequel still in development. Realization dawned on Marek: he was now within the world of that sequel, a place that existed only in fiction.

Closing his eyes, Marek struggled to make sense of the situation. The memories of his previous world felt real because he had lived them, but now he was confronted with a world crafted by Eden's Entertainment.

Despite the overwhelming confusion, Marek's merged consciousness allowed him to process the influx of information efficiently. He swiftly discarded the memories of the boy he once was, deeming them irrelevant for now.

"Knock her out again," Feras ordered Garen, breaking Marek's thoughts.

Anastasia's futile resistance tugged at Marek's emotions. Anastasia held a special place in his heart much like the others. There was a strange, possessive affection towards his characters, especially Anastasia, knowing that she was supposed to die in the Sequel.