Chapter Text
„I... think I accidentally killed Caine.“
Kinger’s words hit you like a freight train.
For a moment, nobody spoke. The silence that followed was deafening. Zooble managed their first truly successful swear, the word hanging awkwardly in the air. Even Jax, who always had something smug or sarcastic ready, said nothing.
But you barely registered any of it.
Your stomach churned violently, nausea creeping up your throat as the words echoed again and again in your head.
Killed Caine.
The realization refused to settle. It slid off your thoughts like water off glass, impossible to grasp.
And at once, the world went quiet. Not a single sound reached your ears.
You turned around without saying a word. Your mind was empty. Not a single coherent thought.
You just needed to...walk.
Maybe someone had called out for you, maybe they didn’t. You neither knew nor cared. You simply kept walking, numbly.
Your feet carried you forward while the circus stretched around you in eerie stillness. The vibrant colors that once made the place feel alive now looked dull and drained, like a painting left too long in the sun. Tears and holes split the walls and ground in places, ragged openings revealing the endless void beyond.
Caine had always warned everyone about the void but with him around, it had never truly been a real threat. He could snap his fingers and you’d pop right back into the circus like nothing had happened.
Now though...
You didn’t dare finish that thought. Denial had you in a chokehold. Kinger had to be wrong. He had to be lying. How could he accidentally do something as severe as killing Caine? There was just no way.
Right?
You stopped when you found yourself standing in front of a familiar structure. Your heart twisted painfully.
The blue and red double doors to Caine’s office stood quietly before you. How had you even gotten here? You stood there, staring at the handles, your thoughts betraying you once again. All you had to do was open the door and everything would be fine. Beyond them, Caine would be inside his office, sitting at his desk, scribbling down notes for new adventures, tinkering with some bizarre idea or proudly presenting the next day’s activities.
He had to be.
Everything would go back to normal.
Your trembling hand reached forward. The metal handle felt cold beneath your fingers. The door creaked open and silence greeted you. Heavy. Wrong. The room felt hollow, like all the air had been sucked out of the space.
Very slowly, your feet carried you inside. Passing between the towering bookshelves lining either side of the room, stretching toward the high ceiling. They were filled with small snow globes that held the worlds you and the others had visited before. The adventures Caine had crafted with so much care. Normally each glowing with a soft, magical energy.
Now they were grey. Unmoving. Completely lifeless.
Like forgotten relics of something that had once been alive.
You stopped in front of the desk. Little trinkets were scattered across its surface. A Rubik’s cube, a few pages filled with doodles of bees, another small puzzle toy... And there on a cute little pedestal was-
You froze.
The little bee plushie you had crafted and given him. You instinctively leaned closer towards it.
The memory resurfaced instantly. The way he had stared at it, wide-eyed with wonder. The way his mismatched eyes had sparkled like a child seeing snow for the first time. As if you had handed him the most precious item in existence.
And how he had looked up at you afterward. Like you were some kind of deity who had hung the stars in the sky.
Even though, technically, he was the one who had done that in this world.
The quiet office blurred around the edges.
It had started with the doodles. Caine doodled bees constantly.
Tiny ones in the margins of his notes. Big ones across entire pages. Sometimes he would absentmindedly sketch them while explaining something trivial to you, his mismatched eyes lighting up as he rambled excitedly.
“Did you know honeybees can recognize human faces?” he had said once, waving a paper covered in little bee sketches toward you. “Remarkable creatures! Incredibly intelligent. Truly underappreciated in the grand hierarchy of biological wonders!”
“You’ve told me that three times already.” you had laughed softly.
“And I will gladly tell you a fourth!” he had replied proudly.
He loved bees. Not in a casual way. In the way someone obsessed over something so very specific, that it crept into every aspect of their day. In a way someone was so enthralled that they weren’t able to shut up about it.
That was how the idea came to you.
You had spent several evenings secretly working on the plush, stitching it together as best as you could. The proportions weren’t perfect, and the wings were slightly uneven, but you had tried your best.
You weren’t even sure if Caine would understand what it was.
When you finally brought it to his office, he had been sitting at his desk surrounded by papers and snow globes, muttering excitedly to himself while scribbling yet another bee into the corner of a page.
“Caine?” you had said.
He immediately perked up.
“Ah! My Dear Pudding Glow Stick! Just the person I wanted to see! I’ve been developing a thrilling new adventure involving-”
He stopped mid-sentence. Because you had placed the plush on his desk. For a moment, he simply stared at it.
“What... is this?” he asked slowly.
“It’s a bee.” you said, suddenly feeling oddly nervous. “Well. Supposed to be one.”
Caine picked it up carefully, as if it might break. He turned it around in his hands, examining every tiny detail.
“Fascinating! And it appears to be... quite soft.” He squeezed it gently. Then again. His eyes lit up. His voice sounded strangely soft. “Did you create this?”
You nodded awkwardly. “I noticed you liked bees.” For a few seconds, Caine said absolutely nothing. He just stared at the plush. Then he looked at you. Something in his expression had changed.
The usual theatrical excitement was still there, but underneath it was something quieter. Something almost disbelieving. “A human made this.” he muttered. It was a quiet statement to himself.
“No one’s ever.. given me something before.” You noticed then the watery look that glazed over his eyes. Your chest tightened slightly.
“Well,” you smiled softly, “now someone has.”
Caine looked back down at the plush, and you shyly spoke up again. “So, I take it that you like it?”
“Like it?” Caine gasped dramatically. “My dear, I adore it!”
He placed the plush proudly on a small pedestal he quickly conjured up on his desk, as if it were some priceless artifact.
“Behold!” he announced grandly to the empty room. “The newest and most distinguished resident of my office!”
You had leaned against the desk, watching him with a fond smile. “Does it have a name?”
Caine froze. Then he leaned closer to the plush as if studying it intensely.
“Ah,” he said thoughtfully before another pause.
Then he looked up at you with a wide grin and pushed the plush slightly closer to you. “What shall we call our honored guest?”
You had pretended to think about it for a moment before shrugging. “You’re the ringmaster. You decide.”
Caine placed a hand dramatically over his chest. “The responsibility is tremendous.”
Then, after another exaggerated pause-
“Sir Buzzington.”
You burst out laughing. “That is a terrible name.” you joked, adoringly.
“Blasphemy!” Caine protested. “Sir Buzzington is a name of immense prestige!”
He gently adjusted the plush so it sat upright. For a brief moment, his usual theatrical energy softened. And when he looked at you again, there was something strangely sincere in his mismatched eyes. “I will take very good care of him. Thank you, dearest.”
At that moment the memory shattered.
The warmth of Caine’s voice vanished. The light in his eyes disappeared. The soft hum of life that always filled the office collapsed into silence.
You were standing in the present again.
The bee still sat on the pedestal.
The desk was still there.
The snow globes were still there.
But Caine wasn’t.
The chair behind the desk sat empty.
For a moment your mind betrayed you, expecting him to suddenly lean back into it with his usual dramatic flourish.
“Ah! My dear! Just in time! I was about to unveil-”
Nothing happened.
No voice.
No movement.
Only silence.
You stared at the bee, as if it was the key to somehow bring that moment back.
But it didn’t.
The office stayed quiet.
Your shoulders trembled slightly as another painful realization settled deep in your chest.
Caine had promised he would take good care of it.
And now-
Now you were the only one left to keep that promise.
Your vision blurred. A tear slipped down your cheek and landed on the desk, just beside the small pedestal.
Your voice came out barely louder than a whisper.
“…I’m sorry.”
And then, a choked cry ripped through your throat. It all pressed down on you at once. The realization finally tore through your denial.
Caine was gone.
There was no denying it anymore. The world had quite literally lost all color, split open and fallen apart without him. Your hands steadied you on the desk, fingernails digging into the wood as your breathing grew uneven.
How did things end up like this?
Yes, Caine had been going off the rails for the past few days. His adventures had grown increasingly erratic and terrifying. There was barely a moment the group got to catch their breath. Not to mention that last outburst shortly before he...
But strangely enough, you understood him. You had been the only one who listened to his venting. You knew how underappreciated he had felt. And it broke your heart that you weren’t enough to stop him from reaching his breaking point.
You had tried to explain that to the others. You had begged them to let you talk to him before they went through with that plan with Kinger.
But they hadn’t listened.
Or maybe...
They just didn’t trust you enough.
If they had, if you’d gotten the chance...would he still be here?
The thought stabbed through you. But no matter how desperately you wished it otherwise, the past wasn’t something you could change. It shattered your heart all over again. The sound of the door creaking behind you barely registered.
Kinger stepped inside and froze when he saw you standing there. Slightly slouched over the desk, your shoulders trembling. Guilt flickered across his face. Gently, he called your name.
„Can we talk?“ His soft voice carried through the absolute stillness of the room.
But you didn’t respond. The words barely reached your mind. Your eyes remained fixated on Caine’s chair.
Maybe... if you stared at it long enough, he would simply appear there again.
On the surface, you blamed Kinger. You didn’t know exactly what had happened. You hadn’t been there with him when he used the computer to access the system files. You had been pinned against a wall with the others by Caine’s giant hands when something strange had flickered in the ringmasters eyes.
Realization.
And in that short moment, hope had flared inside you. For a brief moment you had believed he had finally become self-aware. But the next moment, without warning, he vanished.
No sound, not a single trace.
Just... gone.
And all the information you were left with was how the plan was supposed to go. Kinger was supposed to fix Caine. And you trusted him. But now Caine was completely gone and you never even got the chance to tell him how much you cared about him. You didn’t even get to say goodbye.
It wasn’t fair.
„I don’t want to talk to you.“ Your voice was small but there was a cold edge to it.
Kinger sighed and took a few careful steps into the room, still wearing the same sympathetic expression.
„I understand what you’re going through,“ he said gently. „But please... just listen for a moment.“
He approached slowly until he stood beside you, looking down at the desk.
„ I have...“ Your voice faltered before you forced the words out. „...no reason to.“ You sounded exhausted. Because you were.
Your hand slowly reached out toward the plushie. Your fingers closed around the plush. The fabric was soft and familiar beneath your grip. But now it felt unbearably heavy.
Because when Caine had held it in that memory, he had been smiling.
More hot tears streamed silently down your face as you cradled it close to your chest, like it was your last remaining lifeline.
„There is nothing you could say that would make this easier.“ you whispered. „Your words can’t bring him back. And until they do, I don’t want to hear anything from you.“ Your voice cracked slightly halfway through the sentence.
Deep down you knew you were being unfair. Kinger deserved the chance to explain himself. But right now, you didn’t want to hear it. You just needed an outlet, someone to blame for the unbearable pain in your chest. And he was the easiest target for your frustrations.
Kinger watched you quietly.
The sight of you, so broken, vulnerable, clutching that little plushie as if it was the only thing holding you together, it sent a painful pang through his chest.
He softly called your name again and placed a gentle hand on your shoulder. His touch was careful, almost hesitant, as if he feared you might shatter under anything stronger.
„Please, “ he murmured. „Just listen to me for a few seconds. “
It irritated you that he still hadn’t said what he came here to say. Why did he have to be so considerate, even now?
You just wanted him to leave. You wanted to grieve alone in this place that held so many painfully happy memories of Caine.
The idea of sitting in his office chair with your head resting on his desk, replaying every moment you had shared with him, until your mind finally gave in and you just slowly and silently abstracted, almost sounded peaceful.
But even then, you wouldn’t get to see him again.
Because even if there was an afterlife, Abstraction wasn’t death.
And Caine..
He didn’t have a soul.
Everything felt hopeless.
„What is it?“ you asked weakly, before your spiraling thoughts could make you abstract on the spot.
Kinger hesitated, his grip on your shoulder loosening slightly. The bucket on his head cast a shadow over his face, but you could see the guilt in the way he held himself. His posture was slumped and voice uncharacteristically quiet.
„I didn’t kill him.“
A beat of silence passed as the air seemed to freeze in place.
„Well, technically he is dead right now. “ he admitted quickly. „ I accidentally deleted him. But he isn’t completely lost forever.“ He paused, studying your reaction carefully.
You remained completely still, waiting for his next words.
Hope tried to creep in.
You crushed it immediately.
Because if that hope shattered again...
You were certain you would abstract on the spot.
„There’s still a chance to recover him, but..“
Kinger fell silent again, clearly choosing his words with care.
“It requires... a certain level of computer knowledge.” he said slowly. “And it could be fatal. Someone would have to reach the very core of the system to run the backup.“
The weight of what he was saying settled heavily in the large space of the office. Now you understood why he had hesitated to bring it up. He wasn’t just talking about sitting down at a computer and typing in a few commands. He was talking about physically entering a place no one was ever meant to go. A place hidden beneath everything.
Kinger continued, his voice quieter now, more thoughtful than before.
„And there’s also the possibility of the system detecting the intrusion as a threat.“
That implication completely went over your head, since now your mind was hyper focused on something else. There actually was a chance. A real one. Caine could come back.
Hell, even if the odds were microscopic, even if there was only a 1% chance, you would’ve still taken it without hesitation. You would have thrown yourself into it headfirst. For the first time since entering the office, something warm pushed against the suffocating grief inside your chest. And you allowed it in. You clung to it.
Hope flooded through you so suddenly, it almost hurt. And it would become your most important fuel, carrying you through this.
“How do I get there?” you asked without looking directly at him. The tears were still slipping from your eyes. You didn’t ask about the dangers further. Nor did you ask about what possible complications could occur or if it was even survivable.
Kinger took notice of that. His eyes widened slightly, baffled, but not really all that surprised. Though his expression quickly softened into something closer to concern.
“It’s... not so simple.” he expressed cautiously before sighing, removing his hand from your shoulder and adjusting the bucket resting on his head before meeting your gaze.
“To reach it, we would have to force open a crack from the outside. A tear in the system’s structure.” He gestured vaguely through the air, as if envisioning and outlining what he just described. “You would essentially have to slip into the backend.”
He paused briefly, recognition flickering in his eyes at the topic.
“Ah, that’s the hidden part of a system where all the data is stored, you see. Where the server logic is managed and the-”
“Kinger.”
You cut him off gently before he got too lost in his rambling.
“I know most of that.”
You hesitated, using the small pause to wipe the tears from your face with your free hand.
“I... was a hacker back in the real world.”
Kinger blinked and then something sparkled in his eyes.
“Oh!” he exclaimed in surprise. “So we worked in roughly the same field then?”
You shifted awkwardly. “Um.. Not exactly. I wasn’t doing it officially.” A pause, and then with a quieter voice. “...or legally.”
Kinger didn’t question it further. Instead, he nodded slowly, accepting the information without judgment.
“Alright.” His tone turned serious again. “But you should still know this.” His eyes held yours steadily. “With the system already unstable, its defenses will likely be heightened. The chances of you being detected once you enter the backend are… high.” He hesitated before finishing the thought. “Very high.”
But his warning fell on deaf ears.
“I don’t care.”
The words left your mouth like it was nothing and everything at the same time. They carried a weight that made the air feel heavier. But you meant every syllable. You were ready to risk it all. For Caine. No questions asked.
Kinger stared at you for a long moment. Silence stretched between you two. Eventually you sighed softly.
“Kinger... a few minutes ago, I was seriously considering abstracting myself.” Your grip on the plushie subconsciously tightened. “The thought actually felt peaceful.” you admitted quietly. “Because I had completely lost the will to stay here.”
Then your voice steadied. “So it’s either that or I go and bring back Caine.”
Kinger studied you for several seconds. Then he sighed and a slow nod followed. “Alright.” His voice carried a quiet resignation. “Then I’ll help you.”
He stepped closer to the desk, scanning the room. “To open the crack, I’ll need access to another system interface. The one I used before unfortunately fell into the void.”
Your gaze drifted around Caine’s office. If anyone had something like that laying around, it would be him. You began searching through the clutter scattered across the room. Hidden beneath stacks of notes, strange gadgets, and unfinished puzzle designs, you eventually found what you were looking for. Something that resembled a laptop but looked more... wacky. It looked like something only Caine could have designed.
Kinger moved to it immediately. As he began working, it became obvious that he was nervous. His fingers hesitated occasionally. His posture was tense. The memory of his earlier mistake still hung heavily over him. Still, he kept going. He had sort of promised you to help.
While he worked, you asked some questions to fill the silence.
“What will the backup look like?”
“When was it created?”
“Will he still be... himself?”
Kinger explained carefully as he typed.
“There are multiple backups stored throughout the system,” he clarified. “Different restoration points.”
“So we can choose?” you asked curiously to which he nodded. “Yes, pretty much.” He cleared his throat. “You can select which backup to restore. That will determine what Caine remembers when he returns.”
The implication lingered between you. You would have to decide which version of him came back. That wasn’t just a tactical question, to you it was one about trust. Because that last moment before he vanished, you were certain you had seen realization flicker in his eyes. Perhaps even regret. In that small pained ‘wait’. The question was, if you would trust your gut instinct on this.
Kinger brought you out of your small trance. “Remember though,” he began, his voice low, and gaze still focused on the commands he was typing in. “If the system detects you in there-” His voice dropped to a whisper. “...you won’t die. You’ll get stuck.” A brief silence followed. “And in the worst-case scenario-” Then he briefly looked up from the laptop, his gaze serious.
“You could be overwritten.”
Those words should have terrified you. They should have at least made you reevaluate this whole thing, but they didn’t.
You tightened your grip around the small bee plush, this time fully aware of the action. Soft fabric pressed beneath your fingers. It was a silent promise, not only to Caine, but to yourself as well. You were going to give it back to him. No matter what it took.
The console suddenly hummed and energy flickered through the room. A thin fracture appeared in the air beside the desk.
At first it looked like nothing more than a crack in glass. Then it began to stretch, widen and twist unnaturally through the space of the office. Faint digital static crackled along its edges. And beyond it, there was only darkness.
Kinger had managed to open the tear to the backend.
Just as you took a step towards it, he suddenly stopped you. The soft humming of the system filled the silence between you.
“There’s something else,” he suddenly said.
You looked at him. Kinger’s voice carried a quiet hesitation that made you alarmed. “What?”
He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he stared down at the console as if replaying something in his mind. “When I was trying to fix Caine earlier, something strange happened.”
You stepped up closer to him. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that the system didn’t behave the way it should have,” he explained. “At first I assumed it was just instability from Caine’s code deteriorating. But the more I think about it.” He trailed off for a second before concluding. “It didn’t feel random.”
You frowned. Kinger looked back up at you and gestured with his hands. “It was like something was pushing back.” His words made the air feel colder.
“What kind of something?” you asked quietly.
“That’s the problem,” Kinger admitted. “I don’t know.”
His shoulders slumped slightly beneath the weight of the memory.
“Every time I tried to stabilize his code, something interfered. Commands would change. Processes would reroute themselves. Files would shift location before I could reach them.” He shook his head slowly. “At first I thought I was making mistakes. That I was just being careless.” His voice grew quieter. “But near the end it almost felt like the system was trying to mislead me.”
You stared at him. “Mislead you?”
Kinger hesitated.
“It kept directing me toward the deletion command.”
The words hung heavily in the room.
“Every path I followed eventually circled back to it. At the time I thought it was some sort of emergency protocol to stop the system from collapsing.” His hands curled slightly at his sides. “But looking back now.”
He swallowed.
“I’m not sure that was true.”
Silence settled between you.
Something had guided him toward deleting Caine.
Your mind immediately began turning over the implications. “Do you think it was intentional?”
“I don’t know,” Kinger admitted honestly. “It could have been corrupted system logic. Or a defensive protocol reacting unpredictably.” He paused. “…or something else entirely.”
The uncertainty in his voice was unmistakable.
“I can’t even say whether it will affect you in the backend,” he continued. “But if something inside the system actively interfered with my attempt to repair Caine...” He met your gaze again. “...then it might notice you too.”
You let that sink in. Another risk. Another unknown.
But the decision had already been made.
You simply nodded. “I’ll keep an eye out.”
Kinger studied you for a moment longer, clearly hoping the warning might make you reconsider. But it didn’t.
Finally, he sighed and turned back to the console.
“Alright,” he murmured. The system hummed louder as his hands moved across the interface again. “If something is lurking down there,” He glanced intensely back at you. “just be careful. And promise that you will come back in one piece.”
You knew you couldn’t make such a promise. So instead, you gave him a firm, grateful nod.
You would bring Caine back. You would let nothing stop you now. Because a world without Caine was far worse than whatever waited for you inside the backend.
You paused right before the rift, the little plushie still clutched tightly in your hand. “Kinger. I’m sorry. And thank you, for everything.”
Without waiting for his answer, you crossed the threshold, entering the hidden backbone of the game’s entire system.
The backend.