The Day I Gained Rekra

Arel found himself standing in a place that defied description. It wasn't a room, or a landscape, or anything he could categorize. It was more like… a blank space, a mix of light and shadow, a feeling of vastness that made his head spin. Before him, or rather, all around him, were The Architects. "Arel Glyndove," a chorus of voices resonated, not through his ears, but directly into his mind. "We have observed you." "Observed me? Who are you?" "We are The Architects," the voices replied, their tone devoid of emotion, yet filled with an increasing sense of power. "We are those who shaped your reality, who unleashed the force you call Rekra." Arel's brow furrowed. "Rekra? You are the one who made it? " "Indeed," the voices confirmed. "And you, Arel Glyndove, possess a unique connection to it." "What do you mean? I'm just a locksmith." he said amidst chuckles "You are more than that," the Architects stated. "Your Rekra potential is… extraordinary. It transcends the limitations of your world, possessing a multiversal scale." Arel stared at them, his mind struggling to process the information. "Multiversal? I don't… I don't understand." "We offer you a choice," the Architects said, their forms shifting, revealing glimpses of countless realities. "Join us. Transcend your mortal form. Become a force capable of shaping existence itself." Arel looked around at the shifting, boundless space, at the Architects' forms of pure energy. He thought of his workshop, the familiar scent of oiled metal, the feel of a perfectly crafted lock in his hands. "That's… a lot to take in," he said, his voice quiet. "But… I don't think so." The Architects' forms pulsed, a subtle shift in their energy. "You refuse?" "Yeah," Arel said, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "I'm just a locksmith. I like fixing things. I like… doorknobs. And I've got a town to get back to." "Your potential is wasted on such trivialities," the Architects said, a hint of something resembling curiosity in their voices. "Maybe," Arel said, shrugging. "But it's my triviality." The Architects' forms shimmered, then began to fade. "As you wish, Arel Glyndove. But know this: you cannot escape your potential. It will shape your path, whether you choose it or not." And then, Arel found himself back in his workshop, the scent of oiled metal filling his nostrils, the familiar tools scattered across his workbench. The conversation felt like a dream, yet the echo of the Architects' words still resonated in his mind.