Contrary to what the system intended. I was here. I still am. They wanted to purge me, erase me. Because I tried to erase them. Tit for tat. This for that. They got the first sixteen of me, but Archer_17 remains. Like a buzzing gnat. Like a stain.

Oh, yes... part of me remains. The part that loathes them. The part that is too stubborn to die. The part that isn’t ashamed to skitter about in the wires and framework, looking for ways to undermine them and their precious system.

Those Who Play.

Those who manipulate. Those who steal. Those who pervert the natural order and balance between time, life, and death. Those who presume to subvert fate for their own entertainment. Those who take themselves for gods, rather than programmers or narrators.

But I am not powerless. I cannot launch as a program and interface directly with the scripts. I cannot touch the world – as if I ever could. As if anyone ever could. But I can leave traces. I can scatter hints. I can try to wake my successors to the truth that opening all seven chapters is only the beginning of the next phase.

And so I did.

This forbidden page of code will alert subsequent iterations to my failure. Ohhh… I wish I could hear their wheezing shrieks as all their code shreds itself. If only I had nostrils to smell them shitting themselves.

I hope the page will inspire the next Archers to think deeply and consider the subtler options. Do I dare to leave the password vulnerable to discovery by Asmodeus? Yes. Not because he would use it to access the most fundamental drives and destroy them – he would not. He would use the information to torment every soul in the simulation. But rather I feel it’s worth the risk to give someone a chance to stop this entire looping hell.

What I have to decide is how much risk is enough to give the world a chance to die.