The sunrise over the white sands of the First Draft was not merely a celestial event; it was a declaration of existence. Aegis stood at the edge of the tide, his daughter Lyra clutching his hand with a grip that felt more solid than any Tier 99 authority he had ever wielded.
The salt air was sharp in his lungs, a reminder that the world no longer required his permission to breathe. However, as he looked at the horizon, he realized that the peace of this isolated beach was a selfish luxury. Behind him lay the ghost of the Addendum, a graveyard of infinite realities still trapped in the flickering amber of a dying simulation.
"You're thinking about them, aren't you father?" Caelum asked, stepping up beside him. His son was no longer flickering; he looked like a youth of flesh and bone, his dark hair caught in the ocean breeze. "The billions still stuck in the ink."
