Liora blinked.
For a mont, there was nothing—no sound, no movent, not even breath. Only stillness.
She sat there frozen, holding the now-empty glass in her hand. Atlas’s words still echoed in the space around them, sharp yet strangely calm.
"Do you know that this world is not the only planet in the universe?"
A normal person might have gasped. Might have laughed. Might have asked him if he was joking.
But not her.
Liora was quiet. Not because she didn’t have anything to say——but because she didn’t need to say anything.
She had already suspected it.
From the first ti she accessed the system, sothing had always felt wrong.
A dying wasteland like this should never have had access to the kind of interface she’d been given.
A database filled with knowledge about things that didn’t exist in this world.
Words like tiline fragnts and origin tier tech and advanced technology.
It hadn’t made sense. And her system, even with its broken and fragnted mory, had hinted more than once that this world wasn’t the only one.
But this was enough to make her wonder, enough to make her believe.
So no—she wasn’t surprised.
Just quiet.
Atlas was watching her closely, almost as if reading her silence like a book.
He gave a small nod to himself.
"You’re not surprised," he said, voice calm and low. "That’s good. That ans you’re already aware... in so way."
His words hung in the air, steady but pressing.
Then ca the next question. One she didn’t expect.
"How much has your system told you about the other planets?"
Liora stiffened.
Her fingers tightened slightly around the glass. Her gaze flicked to him instinctively.
That question—It wasn’t just casual.
He knew about her system. and from his tone it does not look like he had guessed it. his tone is more like he had known about this from very beginning.
Her thoughts flew back to the Misty Forest.
That day... when the system had gone completely dark.
She rembered standing in the damp trees, her heart pounding, trying again and again to connect to the system—but there was nothing.
It was like soone had shut a door she couldn’t even see.
And now, the mory snapped into place.
"It was you... back in the forest," she murmured, voice low with realization.
"You stopped from connecting to the system, didn’t you?" She had guessed at that ti that it must be him, but he never acknowledge it.
Atlas didn’t move. He didn’t speak. But his silence said enough.
He looked at her for a long ti, then turned his gaze away.
Liora felt the air shift slightly. Not tense, not threatening. Just heavier.
He didn’t deny it.
But he didn’t confirm it either.
And that silence told her he knew far more than he was letting on.
She waited.
But he said nothing.
Instead, he stood and walked slowly to the window.
The stars outside shimred like a living ocean, stretching endlessly into the void.
He spoke again, quieter this ti.
"There’s a star," he said, "far from this forgotten planet. It’s called Nuvexis Spire."
The na ant nothing to her, but the way he said it made her feel as if it should.
She turned in her seat to look at him.
He continued, "It’s not just a star. It’s a central spire world—one of the most advanced civilizations in the entire galaxy."
His voice didn’t rise. He didn’t try to impress her with his words.
But every sentence felt heavy, like it carried the weight of an entire world behind it.
"It’s surrounded by other stars. Systems that are older. Richer. Stronger. Their people are born with technology in their veins. Their laws stretch across space. Their nas hold weight even light years away."
He looked over his shoulder and t her eyes.
"This planet... this world you call ho... it’s nothing to them. It’s on the edge. A corner of the galaxy no one bothers with. Light years from the core."
He turned back to the stars.
"These kinds of planets... they’re called abandonnt zones. No regulations. No control. No contact. Left untouched. The galaxy doesn’t govern them. The Spire doesn’t care what happens here."
A faint smirk touched his lips.
"The people here don’t even know others exist. They think their lives are the center of the universe. But they’ve never even seen the edge of it."
Liora didn’t speak.
She listened silently. Her breath slow. Her heart steady.
There was no panic in her eyes. No denial. No anger.
Only understanding.
As if his words had filled in the missing parts of a puzzle she had been holding for a long ti.
She stared at him quietly, then slowly looked down at the empty glass in her hand.
The juice was gone.
But its warmth lingered.
The silence stretched between them, calm but deep.
Finally, her voice rose.
Soft, but clear.
"Then... what does the Spire want from a place like this?"
Atlas chuckled softly.
It wasn’t a cold or mocking sound, but it held a strange weight, as if the truth he was about to reveal was sothing that had sat quietly in his chest for a very long ti.
"The Spire does not want anything from this world," he said, voice low and calm. "It’s not the Spire... it’s him."
Liora turned toward him slowly, her eyes narrowed with confusion, not fully understanding what he ant. But she could feel it—that this was no longer a conversation about planets or stars or forgotten systems. This was sothing deeper.
Sothing personal.
Atlas continued, his back still facing the window, his silhouette outlined against the shimring galaxy behind him.
"Who would have thought," he murmured, almost to himself, "that a faraway, abandoned planet—a place considered trash by the rest of the galaxy—would end up having such rich content buried within it?"
He finally turned his head, eting her gaze again.
"This planet... is the most fertile land in the entire galaxy. Untouched. Unused. Hidden like a gem buried beneath dust. Forgotten by the rest of the universe but... discovered by one man."
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