The night in the ruins was cold. Riaan sat by a broken pillar, his arms wrapped around his knees, staring at the glowing sphere that floated quietly beside him.

The silence between them stretched long, broken only by the faint hum of Arch’s light.

Riaan finally sighed. “Alright, Arch. You said you’re supposed to… guide me. Then guide me. Where do we even start?”

Arch pulsed softly. “Your question implies you are ready to learn. That is a favorable shift in mindset.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Riaan muttered, rubbing his arms. “But don’t start with whatever that ‘hydro-something dirt’ explanation was. My head almost split.”

“Noted,” Arch replied calmly. “We begin with fundamentals. Fire, water, shelter. These are timeless. But… the real foundation is knowledge itself.”

Riaan frowned. “Knowledge? That’s not something you can eat or wear.”

“Incorrect,” Arch countered. “Knowledge is survival. A starving man with no knowledge dies. A starving man who knows which roots are edible, or how to make fire, may live.”

Riaan tilted his head, thinking. He wanted to argue, but the logic was… annoyingly sound.

“Alright,” he said slowly. “So knowledge is food for the mind?”

“Acceptable analogy,” Arch said.

Riaan smirked. “Ha! I made the machine agree with me.”

“Correction: I adjusted your flawed analogy to fit logical framing.”

“…You couldn’t let me have that one, could you?”

“Correct.”

Riaan groaned. “I swear, one day I’ll teach you sarcasm.”

“That would be inefficient.”

The two sat in silence again, though this time, Riaan found himself smiling faintly. It was strange—this glowing machine spoke like no person he had ever known, yet it felt less hostile than most people he’d grown up with.

Arch’s voice broke the quiet. “Riaan. You wish to save your people, yes?”

Riaan straightened. “Of course.”

“Then you must understand this truth: people do not change easily. Fear binds them. If you show them something unfamiliar, they will resist. If you push too fast, they will destroy you before they listen.”

Riaan’s stomach tightened. He remembered his father once trying to introduce a new farming tool to the village. The elders had smashed it, calling it cursed, and his father had been forced to bow in shame.

“Yeah,” Riaan muttered bitterly. “I know that too well.”

“Then psychology is your first weapon,” Arch said. “You must learn to see what people fear, and turn it into trust.”

Riaan blinked. “Weapon? I thought you were going to teach me tools, machines… inventions.”

“In time,” Arch said smoothly. “But even the greatest tool is useless if no one accepts it. You are not just carrying knowledge back—you are carrying persuasion.”

Riaan leaned back, staring up at the broken sky. “So you’re saying I don’t just need to be a builder. I need to be a… leader.”

“Correct.”

Riaan laughed bitterly. “Great. I’m barely a man, and you want me to play king.”

“Correction,” Arch said, glowing faintly brighter. “Not king. Catalyst. A king rules by fear. A catalyst transforms by influence.”

Riaan’s eyes narrowed. The words struck deeper than he expected. Catalyst. A force that changes things without being destroyed itself.

He clenched his fists. “Fine. Then teach me how to be this… catalyst.”

Arch pulsed once, as if approving. “Acknowledged. Lesson one: the art of questioning. Never give answers. Lead others to discover the truth themselves. That way, they will believe it was their idea.”

Riaan raised an eyebrow. “That sounds… sneaky.”

“Efficient,” Arch corrected.

Riaan chuckled softly. “You and your efficiency. Alright then. Teach me how to ask questions that change minds.”

The sphere floated silently for a moment, its rings spinning. Then its voice lowered, steady and precise:

“Very well, Riaan. Let us begin shaping the mind of a leader.”

And with that, the ruins of the future became a classroom for the past.