The warning text faded from the warped console, leaving only the dull purple glow of Earth’s mantle below.
Zee stared at his burnt hands, his chest heaving. The material wasn’t just rare. It didn’t belong to the System at all.
Before he could process the thought, the floor plates vibrated.
A low, grating rumble rose through the rock, bypassing the dead control panel entirely.
Earth was speaking again.
“Creator”
The voice was softer this time, but heavy enough to stir the sulfur clouds around the platform edge.
Zee stood frozen. “What is it?”
“What happens when something dies?”
The question struck the platform like a physical impact.
Auditor Uma took a sharp breath, her fingers tightening on the hilt of her silver baton.
Zee opened his mouth, but no sound came out. How was he supposed to answer a sentient planet?
He couldn’t tell it about the System’s endless cycle of harvesting, burning, and recycling dead worlds for raw energy. He couldn’t admit that in this trial, failure meant complete annihilation.
“Why are you asking me that?” Zee managed to whisper.
Earth didn’t reply with words.
Across the vast, dark northern continent, millions of bioluminescent moss colonies suddenly flared into brilliant crimson life.
Then, in a single synchronized instant, the entire continent went pitch black. Every organism withered into fine dust.
A second later, a massive wave of dark, acidic ooze surged over the dead soil, absorbing the decaying matter into the mantle before spawning a stronger, spiked flora in its place.
Earth wasn’t waiting for an answer. It was running its own tests.