Global Apocalypse: My System Is Always AFK

Twenty-four hours wasn’t a lot of time to prepare for a trial nobody understood, but Ethan had learned, over the past several days, that preparation for these things rarely looked like what he expected anyway. So he spent the first several hours of it doing something considerably more mundane - helping Suresh finish setting up the Grand Concord’s staging area, mostly because standing still and worrying wasn’t a skill he’d ever developed.

It was Malachar who found him there, mid-afternoon, carrying himself with a different posture than Ethan had seen from him at any point over the past several days - steadier, somehow, despite everything, like a man who’d set down a weight he’d been carrying so long he’d forgotten what walking without it felt like.

”I spoke with Halvorsen properly,” Malachar said, without preamble, settling onto the low wall beside where Ethan was working. ”About what comes next. For me. For Instance-9.”

”And?”

”I’m not returning immediately,” Malachar said. ”Not permanently, anyway. Halvorsen’s agreed to serve as acting Regent for an extended period, with full authority, while I-” he paused, visibly searching for the right words, ”-while I figure out what it actually means to lead a world I built through fear, without relying on fear to do it.”

Ethan set down the crate he’d been carrying, giving the moment its proper weight. ”That’s a big decision.”

”It’s the first honest one I’ve made in a decade,” Malachar said. ”I asked her, directly, whether Instance-9 would survive me stepping back, even temporarily. She told me something I think I needed to hear more than I realized. She said the world I built was never actually as fragile as I believed it was. I was the fragile part, and I’d convinced myself the fragility belonged to everyone else so I wouldn’t have to look at it directly.”

Ethan absorbed that, something warm and genuinely proud settling in his chest despite everything else weighing on the day. ”So what happens now? While you figure things out?”

Malachar was quiet for a moment, and when he spoke again, there was something almost hesitant in his voice, unfamiliar territory for a man who’d spent a decade never once sounding uncertain in front of anyone.

”I’d like to stay here,” he said. ”At the Citadel. Not indefinitely, necessarily. But for a while. I’ve spent this entire week watching you build something I’ve never managed to build - people who trust you without needing you to be infallible. I’d like to understand how that actually works, up close, rather than just admiring it from a distance.”

Ethan considered the request, and found, somewhat to his own surprise, that his answer arrived without any real hesitation at all.

”Yeah,” he said. ”Okay. You can stay.”

”Just like that?”

”Just like that,” Ethan confirmed. ”You’ve already been through the same thing Kael and Ren went through - decided this place was worth changing for, instead of just visiting out of curiosity. That’s the only test that actually matters around here.”

Malachar’s composed expression cracked into something Ethan hadn’t seen from him before - genuine, unguarded relief, the kind that came from finally being told yes by someone who had every reason to say no.

”Suresh will want your paperwork filled out properly,” Ethan added, mostly to lighten the moment. ”Fair warning. He takes the onboarding process very seriously, regardless of how many worlds you’ve conquered.”

”I would expect nothing less,” Malachar said, and for the first time since Ethan had met him, something that looked almost like a genuine smile crossed his face.

Suresh, predictably, took the news with the same brisk, unbothered efficiency he applied to every new arrival, clipboard already out before Malachar had finished explaining the situation.

”Full name, prior residence, emergency contact if applicable,” Suresh said, flipping to a fresh page. ”I’ll assume ’ruler of an entire Instance’ counts as prior occupation, though I’m not sure what box that fits into.”

”You could just write ’unemployed,’” Ethan offered. ”Feels thematically appropriate.”

Malachar, filling out the form with visible bemusement, glanced up. ”Is that actually the standard designation?”

”For unresolvable users, yeah,” Ethan said. ”Ask Arjun’s old system sometime. It’s basically a running joke at this point.”

The paperwork took the better part of an hour, Suresh methodically working through housing assignments, dietary preferences, and - with a particular gravity that suggested he’d learned this lesson the hard way with prior arrivals - a section specifically dedicated to ”known triggers or sensitivities the Citadel’s community should be aware of.”

Malachar hesitated over that section for a long moment before writing something Ethan couldn’t quite see, his expression carrying the same raw vulnerability that had defined the last day’s revelations.

”You don’t have to share it if you don’t want to,” Suresh said gently, noticing the hesitation.

”No,” Malachar said. ”I think - I think I want to, actually. That’s rather the whole point of starting over somewhere new.”

He turned the clipboard slightly, and Ethan caught a glimpse of the entry: Difficulty accepting help without framing it as weakness. Working on it.

Something in Ethan’s chest tightened at the simple, honest admission, and he found himself, without quite deciding to, offering something back.

”For what it’s worth,” Ethan said, ”everyone here’s working on something. Ren’s still figuring out how to trust people who aren’t paying her to protect them. Kael’s still figuring out what he actually wants beyond not chasing a rank anymore. I’m still figuring out how to hold power without it turning me into someone I don’t recognize. You’re not the only person here mid-repair. You’re just the newest one to say it out loud.”

Malachar looked at him for a long moment, something settling in his expression that Ethan recognized as the particular, quiet relief of finally being somewhere that didn’t require pretending.

”Thank you,” he said simply.

”Don’t thank me,” Ethan said. ”Thank Suresh’s paperwork. Apparently it’s a very effective icebreaker.”

That evening, with Malachar’s onboarding complete and the courtyard settling into its usual pre-dusk quiet, Ethan found himself once again sitting at the excavation site, the terminal’s golden glow steady and patient below, the weight of the following day’s twin events - the Grand Concord and the final trial, converging at the exact same moment - pressing in with growing urgency.

[NOTICE: The system would like to raise something it has been considering throughout the day, given the significance of what it just witnessed.]

Ethan glanced up. ”Go ahead.”

[The system has watched the subject extend genuine welcome to three people over the course of this volume alone - Kael, Ren, and now Malachar - each of them arriving broken in some fundamental way by whatever they’d built their lives around before, and each of them finding, at the Citadel, something considerably closer to wholeness than they carried in.]

[The system believes this pattern is significant, particularly given tomorrow’s convergence of events. If the final trial is genuinely testing something the Origin Engine itself does not yet understand, the system suspects the answer may not lie in anything the subject does alone. It may lie in exactly this - the accumulated, deliberate practice of building a place where broken things are allowed to heal, rather than being asked to perform wholeness they don’t actually have.]

Ethan sat with that, the weight of the observation settling somewhere he hadn’t expected it to land.

”You think that’s the actual test,” he said slowly. ”Not some dramatic final confrontation. Just - whether I’ve actually built what I keep saying I’ve built.”

[NOTICE: The system does not know for certain. It would simply like to note that ”The Last Question” is an unusual name for a trial, and it suspects, strongly, that whatever question the Origin Engine intends to ask tomorrow may not have a clean, tactical answer at all.]

[NOTICE: It would also like to raise one final piece of information it has been holding since this morning, uncertain of the right moment to share it.]

Ethan tensed slightly. ”What.”

[While reviewing the Grand Concord’s finalized guest list ahead of tomorrow’s session, the system found an additional attendee added within the last hour - someone who was not on any prior manifest, and whose registration carries no Instance designation at all.]

[NOTICE: The registered name reads simply: ”ARJUN MEHRA - ATTENDING.”]