Curiosity and Resolve

Fozic had never trusted perfection.
The world around him—Facilis—glimmered with manufactured peace. Skies too calm, cities too silent, and people too satisfied with what little they understood. It was all too… easy. Too rehearsed.

As a child, he used to stare at the polished towers and wonder if they were built to protect, or to hide something beneath them. His teachers had called him idealistic; his parents, reckless. But even then, something in him whispered that truth never lived in comfort.

Now, standing at the edge of the southern platforms overlooking the energy channels that powered the Point Touch Zero device, that whisper was louder than ever.

“If the world is perfect, then why does it need control?”

The question had stayed with him his whole life.

Facilis was designed to be fast-paced, efficient, without struggle. Artificial weather maintained stability. Automated labor removed burden. People no longer fought for food or land or dreams—they simply existed within the patterns written for them.

But not Fozic.

He had always believed that a man’s worth was not in how easy his life was, but in how much he was willing to seek. To explore, to achieve, to create meaning out of uncertainty. And now, more than ever, that belief had begun to burn like a second heart inside him.

He wanted to see beyond the walls, beyond the bright filters of Facilis. He wanted to understand the power that kept everything running—the Point Touch Zero Device.

A core of pure energy, endless, precise, and ancient.
And yet, it was said to have no origin.

Fozic didn’t believe that for a second.

The wind carried faint echoes from the lower sectors, where rumors of rebellion and the royal family’s secret operations spread. That’s where he heard the name Wrex again. A name whispered with both fear and admiration.

He had met Wrex once—briefly, long before all of this began.
There was something in him that didn’t belong to this world. Something raw, uncertain, but alive.

That’s why Fozic followed him. Not out of blind loyalty, but out of belief—belief that change couldn’t come from one man alone, but from the collective will of those who dared to question.

He trusted Wrex to be that spark.
The spark that could either rebuild Facilis or burn it down completely.

As he walked through the restricted corridors near the Zero Chamber, his wristband scanner flickered. A deep hum resonated through the metallic walls, like the world itself was breathing.

The Point Touch Zero wasn’t just a power source—it was a pulse.
And Fozic could feel it syncing with his heartbeat.

For a moment, he closed his eyes and saw flashes—memories that weren’t his. A golden city buried under endless waves. A massive crown hovering above a desert of glass. A voice whispering something ancient:

“The first man to question will always be the first to fall.”

He gasped, opening his eyes, sweat dripping down his temples.

“What… was that?” he murmured.

The hum subsided. The chamber returned to silence. But his world had shifted.

Later that night, he recorded his thoughts in a private log—a habit he had since youth:

“Curiosity is not a sin. It is the only proof that we are still alive. They may call me reckless, misguided, or lost, but if this world truly thrives on lies, then I would rather die for a truth than live for comfort.”

He stopped writing, staring at the glow of the city through the window. It looked peaceful from afar, like a dream that refused to end. Yet Fozic knew it was all surface—just a reflection of something much darker beneath.

He looked to the east, where the horizon pulsed faintly with the energy of rebellion. Somewhere there, Wrex was moving. And somewhere near him, Loria.

He smiled faintly, almost bitterly.
“Maybe I’m not the one who’s curious. Maybe the world itself wants to be seen.”

And as the hum of the Zero Device echoed once more in the distance, something within Facilis shifted.
The systems flickered. Lights dimmed.
Change was coming.

And Fozic—curious, restless, unyielding—would be standing right at the center of it.

For all the plans and faiths sealed long ago, destiny still had a habit of listening to those who dared to ask why.