Altair awoke to the cold night air pressing against his skin. His body ached, his limbs heavy with exhaustion. As his consciousness slowly returned, he realized he was lying on the uneven ground, his arms wrapped around the small grave.
His mother's grave.
He swallowed the lump in his throat and forced himself to sit up. His stomach growled in protest, reminding him of his hunger. He hadn't eaten since the day before, but he barely had an appetite.
As he stood, a dull pain throbbed in his chest. He blinked up at the night sky, the pale moon casting its lonely glow over the abandoned village. The once-familiar streets, now void of life, stretched into the darkness beyond. He could almost hear the distant echoes of laughter from years past, but they were nothing more than ghosts of memories.
With slow, deliberate movements, he bowed deeply before the grave. "Mother… I'll follow what you said. Tomorrow, I will leave and head to the capital as you wished. Please look after me," he whispered, his voice hoarse.
Standing on unsteady legs, he turned toward the village and began walking. Though the darkness obscured most of the path, his feet knew the way by heart. The absence of light didn't bother him. He had walked these streets since childhood. Even now, with nothing but silence surrounding him, he did not fear the night.
—
When he arrived at the house, the air inside felt empty.
Gone was the warmth that once lingered within these walls.
Altair sighed, pushing the thought aside as he moved toward the lamp sitting on the wooden table. With a quick flick of his fingers, the flame came to life, casting flickering light into the gloom.
The house suddenly felt less hollow.
He moved toward the stove, filling a pot with water before gathering the remaining mushrooms, salt, and herbs. He placed them into the pot, stirring absentmindedly as he waited for it to boil. The scent of warm broth filled the room, but it did little to comfort him.
As he sat down to eat, his movements were slow, mechanical. He barely tasted the soup as he swallowed each spoonful, his mind drifting elsewhere. The food settled in his stomach, but it could not fill the emptiness inside him.
Just as he placed the bowl down, a sudden voice echoed in his head.
[The body is suffering from dehydration and malnutrition. The host requires additional nutrition to restore vitality.]
Altair froze.
His fingers twitched as a sharp shiver ran down his spine. His body reacted before his mind could catch up—his hand shot out, grabbing the worn kitchen knife beside him. His breath came in shallow gasps as he glanced around the room, heart pounding against his ribs.
"Who's there?" he demanded, his grip tightening around the handle.
Silence.
Then, the voice spoke again, its tone mechanical and devoid of emotion.
[Hello, Host. I am the Stronghold System. Due to the impending Corrosion that will wipe out most of humanity, I have been assigned to assist the host in surviving.]
The voice echoed inside his mind rather than around the room.
Altair's knuckles turned white as he clenched the knife. "What…?"
The words were strange, unfamiliar.
Stronghold System? What was that?
He swallowed, his throat dry. "What are you? Why are you in my head?"
[I am the Stronghold System, connected to the host. From this moment onward, I will aid you in surviving the upcoming Corrosion.]
Altair's breathing was uneven.
This voice—it wasn't human. It wasn't something he could see or touch. And yet, it spoke as though it had knowledge of things no ordinary person should know.
His fingers trembled slightly as he adjusted his grip on the knife. "You mentioned the Corrosion… what do you know about it?"
[The Corrosion is inevitable. Even with the existence of awakened warriors and heroes, they will not be able to stop it. The Corrosion is a cycle that occurs every 10,000 years—a force meant to cleanse the world and give birth to a new era. Only the strongest will survive. Those who endure will reap the rewards of a renewed world.]
Altair's blood ran cold.
Only the strongest will survive?
He had always believed that the awakened warriors—the ones who fought the monstrous red creatures the soldiers in town spoke of—would eventually find a way to stop the Corrosion. They were powerful, far beyond ordinary humans. But now, this… thing was telling him that their fight was meaningless? That they were merely being tested, and only the strongest would survive?
"That can't be right," he muttered, shaking his head. "There are warriors out there—people who risk their lives every day to fight back. Are you telling me that none of them can stop it?"
[Correct. The Corrosion is absolute. It cannot be stopped, only endured. That is why I was sent to assist the host—to ensure survival.]
Altair's grip on the knife loosened slightly. His mind whirled with confusion, doubt, and a small, nagging sense of unease.
Something about this didn't sit right.
"Then why me?" he asked. "I'm not even awakened. There are hundreds—thousands—of warriors stronger than me. Why would you choose me?"
[Unknown. My programming does not contain information on the entity that assigned me to you.]
Altair narrowed his eyes. "You don't know who sent you?"
[Correct. My sole directive is to ensure the host's survival by establishing a self-sustaining stronghold that can withstand the Corrosion.]
A stronghold…?
Altair exhaled slowly, lowering the knife slightly. "And how exactly do you expect me to build this 'stronghold'?"
He has neither the power, resources or ability to.
The answer that followed nearly made him drop the knife.
[The process is simple. The host must have children. These children will serve as the pillars of the stronghold, allowing me to unlock its full potential.]
Altair's expression twisted. "What?"
[To activate the full capabilities of the Stronghold System, the host must have children. These children will form the foundation of the stronghold and ensure its long-term survival.]
His eye twitched. "Are you messing with me?"
[Negative. This is the most efficient method of survival.]
Altair let out a humorless laugh. "You make it sound so easy."
Was this thing serious? The village was empty. The world was in chaos. How were people supposed to be interested in having children when they could barely survive? Who could he find to make the children the system is talking about?
"What happens if I refuse?" he asked coldly.
[Then the host will not survive the Corrosion.]
Altair's stomach twisted. He just promised his mother that he will survive and this thing told him that he could not.
This wasn't a joke. It wasn't even a dream.
The Corrosion was coming. And if this system was right, then the world as he thought that would eventually be fine in the future would soon be gone.
He clenched his jaw.
If he wanted to survive, he had to make a choice.
But having children? That would be hard.