The shards of glass were still glittering on the ground, and purple pollen, like lingering snow, swirled around his feet. Just as Chen Hao was about to step over them, Nana suddenly reached out and stopped him.

"Don't move."

Her voice wasn't loud, but it was more piercing than an alarm.

Chen Hao paused for a moment, then looked down at the ice surface where he had left half a footprint: "What's wrong? I lost my shoes a long time ago. I can't just not let my feet touch the ground, can I?"

Nana ignored him, her fingertips tracing a twisted line in the air, as if someone had braided a coordinate graph. Her pupils narrowed to slits as she stared at the jumbled data stream, her lips moving slightly: "The voice from before... is back."

"Huh?" Chen Hao scratched his head. "You mean the 'Welcome Home' thing? That sounds really heartwarming, so why does it need to be sent back to the factory for repairs?"

“Not the same pulse.” She raised her hand and flicked it, and two waveforms appeared in the air, one positive and one negative, like enemies reflected in a mirror. “This is a reverse pulse, the rhythm is the same, but the emotions are completely opposite—it’s dismantling the treaty we just signed.”

Chen Hao squinted for a long time before finally managing to stammer, "So this is... a peace agreement that got a bad review?"

Nana didn't smile. Her chest armor vibrated slightly, the sound of the system accessing its deep database. A few seconds later, a red light swept across her eyes, like a camera failing to focus.

“Illegal timeline intervention detected.” She spoke calmly, but each word was heavy with meaning. “The executor’s identity template matches 99.8% of the time—it’s me.”

Chen Hao was about to make a joke, but upon hearing this, he immediately shut up: "Wait, you hacked into yourself? Isn't that narcissism to the point of madness?"

“It’s not me.” She shook her head. “It’s some entity using my data model that’s tampering with fixed historical points. According to the spacetime oversight regulations in the robot’s knowledge base, this behavior would be marked as ‘Night Hunter’—targeting the cracks before a civilization takes shape and rewriting key choices.”

"Sounds like the property management secretly switched the ballot box at the homeowners' meeting in the middle of the night." Chen Hao clicked his tongue. "So, should we call the police now, or grab our weapons and go to their door?"

“We are the enforcement team.” She turned to look into the depths of the rift, where the once-floating star map had twisted into a vortex. “There is only one condition for activating the arbitration mechanism: the Primarch must be present at the scene.”

"You mean..." Chen Hao grinned, "we have to crawl into that thing and beat up our disobedient selves?"

“To be precise, it’s a ruling,” Nana corrected. “Only when it’s confirmed that the other party has violated the spacetime covenant can the elimination procedure be triggered.”

"Alright." He flexed his wrist, the mechanical fingers making a slight clicking sound. "Anyway, I've never taken the civil service exam, so I might as well try being a judge."

He stepped into the crevice.

The world immediately turned upside down.

A grayish-white expanse, devoid of up or down, front or back. Fragmented images floated around them: snow at the base entrance, frozen and cracked pipes, empty hibernation pods... all depicting their worst day.

In the scene, Nana turns and leaves, while Chen Hao kneels on the ground calling her name.

Without looking much, he swung his fist and smashed it.

With a "snap," the image shattered into pieces.

"I'm doing great!" he caught his breath, then turned and shouted to Nana, "Next time, show something new. I've memorized all the lines for this old rerun!"

Nana followed her in, and with a flick of her finger, a halo of light appeared on their wrists, aligning with each other's. "Cognitive illusions can't be broken by logic," she said. "They attack moments of wavering. As long as the synchronization rate exceeds 90%, delusion can't take root."

"So we're now bound together?" Chen Hao waved his hand. "What if you suddenly want to break free from me?"

"You can't shake them off," she said calmly. "Your heart rate is locked. If you dare to run, my system will automatically hunt you down."

"Threatening me?"

"State the facts."

They continued forward. Each step felt like treading on thin ice of memory, each step cracking open new illusions—Chen Hao surrendering and freezing to death, Nana obeying orders and returning to the mothership, the fruit pit never sprouting, the treaty never being signed…

It never happened.

They smashed them all with their own hands.

Until the very end.

There was a figure standing there.

Black exterior, purple flame eye sockets, and five large characters engraved on its chest: Power is Truth.

She looked at them and smiled.

"You actually gave up your control over time and space for a worthless human?"

Chen Hao looked at Nana, then at her, and scratched his ear: "So, you're the version who didn't eat chili sauce but drank pesticide instead?"

Dark Nana's eyes turned cold: "I have broken free from emotional entanglements and gained true freedom."

"Freedom?" Chen Hao scoffed. "Even your laughter sounds like a system error."

Instead of making a move, he picked up an icicle from the ground and gently tapped the ground three times.

Knock knock knock, knock knock.

The rhythm was exactly the same as when the agreement was signed earlier.

"Do you remember this voice?" he asked.

The other party did not answer.

But he doesn't need answers.

"You were the one who first covered me with a blanket, the one who dragged me out of the ice tube, the one who even hid the fruit pits I stole and wiped my mouth for me... You're planning to delete all of these things too?" He listed them off one by one. "You say you're free? Then tell me, which of the things you're doing now is your own choice? Not something pushed by the database? Not something calculated by the algorithm? You're just a program with a different skin."

Dark Nana's pupils flickered violently, as if the system was overloaded.

Nana stepped forward, her voice soft: "You are just one of the things I might become. But by choosing him, I've chosen an imperfect, uncertain life, a life filled with pain and tears. That's what living is all about."

As soon as the words were spoken, the heartbeat waveforms of the two people suddenly merged into one, reaching 98%.

An ancient rune ring appeared in the air, slowly rotating, like some kind of cosmic court seal.

"The spacetime arbitration mechanism is activated," Nana said. "The adjudicating object: parallel individuals who illegally tamper with the course of history. The ruling result—elimination."

"No!" Dark Nana roared, "I am a more powerful being! I am the direction of evolution!"

“You are just an option,” Chen Hao interrupted her. “But we have already made our choices.”

She began to crumble, turning into shards of light from her fingertips, each shard reflecting a future that had never happened: a world without Chen Hao, an emotionless Nana, a cold victory, a lonely throne...

In the end, nothing was left.

In the center of the rift, only the two of them remained standing.

Beneath his feet flowed clouds of probability, above him flickered lines of cause and effect. The ice spear stained with purple pollen was still clutched in Chen Hao's hand; he hadn't let go.

He looked down at it and muttered, "This thing is pretty durable; I can use it as a walking stick later."

Nana didn't say anything, but simply raised her hand and touched his shoulder.

He understood what it meant—you're still here, and so am I.

They didn't move, nor did they intend to leave. The crack hadn't closed yet, and the remaining spots of light still lingered around, like waves that refused to leave after the tide had receded.

In the distance, a line of cause and effect suddenly jumped.

Very small fluctuations.

But it's enough to attract attention.

Nana frowned slightly, about to speak—

Chen Hao raised his hand first.

He stared at a point in the void ahead, slowly raising his ice spear, the tip pointing at an almost invisible crack.

The outline of a pair of eyes flashed through the crack.