The ruins were darker tonight. Riaan sat beside the terminal, staring at the faint glow of Arch’s sphere. The silence felt heavier than usual, and it made his stomach twist.

“Arch,” he muttered, “if I’m supposed to… change things, shouldn’t I actually *learn* something useful by now? You’ve only given me fancy words and headaches.”

The sphere pulsed calmly. “Incorrect. You have already learned psychology.”

Riaan groaned. “That doesn’t keep anyone alive. Give me something real. Something I can hold. Something I can take back.”

Arch hovered silently for a moment, then said, “Very well. You will learn fire.”

Riaan blinked. “Fire? I already know fire. You rub sticks, sparks fly, you don’t freeze to death. What’s there to learn?”

Arch’s rings spun faster. “Your fire is inefficient. Too slow. Too unreliable. What if rain comes? What if you lack dry wood? What if you are in battle and must act quickly?”

Riaan frowned. “…So what, you’ve got a better way?”

The sphere glowed brighter. “Correct. The match.”

“Match?”

“A small stick tipped with chemicals. One strike, immediate flame. Compact, portable, reliable.”

Riaan leaned forward, eyes wide. “One strike? Just like that?”

“Correct. Even a child could use it.”

Riaan chuckled in disbelief. “That sounds like magic.”

“Correction: chemistry.”

“Chem… what?”

“Never mind,” Arch said smoothly. “Focus on use, not theory.”

Riaan scratched his head. “So… this ‘match’ makes fire fast. But… won’t people think it’s cursed? They already call me strange just for asking questions.”

“Correct,” Arch said. “This is where psychology applies. If you present matches as divine, they will fear them. If you present matches as stolen from demons, they will destroy them. But…”

Riaan leaned forward. “But what?”

“But if you make them believe it is simply a faster way of what they already do… they will accept it.”

Riaan blinked. Then a slow grin spread across his face. “So I don’t say ‘Look, I made magic fire.’ I say… ‘Look, I made the same fire you already use—just quicker.’”

“Correct.”

Riaan laughed, shaking his head. “Hah! That actually makes sense. You’re saying I don’t have to fight their fear—I just have to make it feel normal.”

“Affirmative. Incremental change is accepted. Radical change is resisted.”

For a moment, Riaan sat in silence, staring at the ruins around him. Here, in this broken world, he was being taught not just to light fires—but to light ideas.

His voice lowered. “Arch… if something as small as fire can be changed, maybe… maybe I can really change everything.”

The sphere pulsed brighter. “Your confidence is growing. That is beneficial.”

Riaan smirked. “Don’t get too proud of yourself, Arch. I’m still not bowing to a glowing ball.”

“Correction,” Arch said smoothly. “You will bow when circumstances require optimal humility.”

Riaan groaned. “Arch, that was sarcasm. You’re learning too fast.”

“Correction,” Arch replied, glowing faintly. “That was efficiency.”

Riaan buried his face in his hands. “I’m doomed.”

But deep down, as he laughed into the ruins of the future, he knew he wasn’t doomed.

For the first time, he had a spark.

Not just of fire.

But of hope.