Erah fell.
But there was no wind. No direction. No end.

He fell into a void of meaning-a state where every law that once built the world had rotted away.
A soft click echoed around him, like some ancient switch had been flipped.
And then-he was no longer human.

No more body.
Only consciousness.
Only thought.

---

A field appeared. Not because it existed-but because Erah remembered it did.
He stood in it now-grass swaying golden beneath a dying sky.
Far ahead, on a hill, a young boy was burying something.

Erah walked toward him.
The boy didn't notice.

But then... he did.
Because it was himself-a memory of his childhood long erased.

> "This isn't memory," Erah whispered.
"This is a forgotten version of me, rising to the surface."

He knelt and dug into the dirt.
Buried there: a small silver box, locked with a symbol of a melting clock.

He opened it.

Inside were:
- A broken chain.
- A worn notebook.
- And a single scrap of paper:

> "If you remember this, the machine has failed."

---

The field vanished.

He was falling again.
But this time, he was falling inward.

---

A room unfolded.

Steel. Cold. Endless.
The walls were alive with flowing symbols-like digital veins, pulsing code.
In the center, it floated:

The Nameless Engine-a spinning cube, its faces glowing with echoes of lives not lived.
Each face showed a different Erah:

> A warrior.
A traitor.
A god.
A shadow.

A voice-smooth and distant-echoed in his mind:

> "Choose a face.
Define yourself."

Erah hesitated.
If he chose, he would stabilize.
But if he refused...

> "I won't choose," he whispered.
"I'll be what they can't write."

---

The cube jolted.
The room cracked open.
The streaming symbols bled out and vanished.

Then-another voice.
Older than space.
Deeper than time.

> "You've broken the final law:
To redefine yourself without a framework."

---

And in that moment, Erah saw it all:

> The pasts of all his versions.
The deaths of the Constants.
The seven faceless gods-trembling before a being outside logic.

And he laughed.

Not out of victory-
But because, for the first time... he wasn't a name.

He was the blank page.
The space before the story.