Once Chara was used the Architect he had decided quite suddenly and with zero consultation—that his first official “human mission” would be to help a complete stranger.

Chara, still floating ghost-like beside her own walking corpse, was immediately suspicious.

“I don’t trust this plan,” she said flatly. “You barely understand how doors work. Helping people sounds… dangerous.”

“Nonsense!” The Architect waved her off with Chara’s very mortal hands. “I have observed humanity for eons. Their struggles are trivial—like a single thread in an infinite tapestry. I shall fix them with ease.”

Chara snorted. “Single threads have a way of unraveling the whole thing, you know.”

He ignored her, scanning the bustling city streets with the enthusiasm of a tourist and the judgment of a cosmic god. His eyes lit up—literally, which was not ideal—when he spotted a frazzled man struggling with a bicycle chain.

“Behold!” The Architect declared. “A mortal in distress!”

Chara floated around to look. “Seriously? It’s just a busted bike. Let the poor guy figure it out.”

But The Architect was already striding over, radiating confidence and mild cosmic glow.

“Worry not, citizen!” he proclaimed, pointing dramatically at the bicycle. “I shall grant you cosmic assistance!”

The man blinked up at him, confused. “Uh… okay?”

Chara groaned. “This is going to go so wrong.”

The Architect placed Chara’s hands on the bicycle chain. It immediately began to glow with an otherworldly light.

“I imbue this humble contraption with universal harmony!” he announced.

In an instant, the bike transformed into a sleek, shimmering THING that looked like it belonged in a sci-fi blockbuster movie hovering slightly above the ground, its wheels replaced with pulsating energy rings.

“Ta-da!” The Architect stepped back proudly. “A bicycle fit for the stars!”

The man stared, jaw hanging open. “What the… how am I supposed to ride that?!”

Chara burst out laughing. “Oh my god, you turned his bike into a UFO!”

The Architect frowned, clearly expecting gratitude. “You humans are difficult to please. Perhaps it requires… enhancements?” He raised his hands again.

“STOP!” Chara yelled, throwing herself between him and the bike. “You’re gonna make it sprout lasers or something!”

The man, sensing imminent disaster, grabbed his now-hovering bike and bolted down the street. “Thanks, I guess!” he shouted, wobbling as he tried to figure out how to steer.

The Architect watched him go, unbothered. “Another successful intervention,” he said smugly.

Chara shook her head. “You’re unbelievable.”

----------------------------------------------------------

They turned the corner and immediately froze.

A hooded figure stood in the alleyway, radiating an eerie, unnatural presence. The air around it warped and shimmered, like reality itself was glitching.

“Oh great,” Chara muttered. “What now?”

The figure’s voice echoed, deep and distorted. “You. Architect. Your meddling has upset the balance.”

The Architect straightened, unflinching. “Ah, a cosmic busybody! Let me guess you’re here to whine about bicycles and greatness grants?”

“You mock forces beyond your comprehension,” the figure growled. “The End is coming. You must prepare, or all shall be undone.”

The Architect waved dismissively. “I’ve handled apocalypses before. They’re always so dramatic.”

The figure leaned closer, its form flickering like a broken TV. “This is no ordinary end. Even you may not survive it.”

Chara felt a chill ripple through her ghostly form. “Uh… maybe we should take this one seriously?”

For the first time, The Architect’s bravado faltered. Just a bit but it was there.

“Fine,” he said. “I’ll… look into it. But first—” he gestured vaguely at the figure “—could you not lurk so ominously? It’s rude.”

With a final hiss, the figure dissolved into shadows, leaving the alley silent.

“Well,” Chara said after a moment. “That wasn’t ominous at all.”

“Bah!” The Architect brushed it off, though his expression betrayed a hint of concern. “We have more pressing matters. Like returning that mortal’s gratitude for his upgraded bicycle.”

Chara stared at him. “You mean the guy who ran away screaming?”

“Details.”

As they walked, the looming threat of “The End” lingered in the back of both their minds. But in true Architect fashion, chaos came first.

He tried to help a street magician by “enhancing” his tricks. The pigeons are still glowing.

He attempted to “fix” a cracked sidewalk. It now sings when stepped on.

He tried to help a crying toddler. The toddler now floats when upset.

Chara sighed. “You’re like a cosmic toddler with a god complex.”

The Architect smiled proudly. “Thank you.”

“That wasn’t a compliment.”

“Still appreciated.”

Despite everything the chaos, the danger, the glowing pigeons Chara couldn’t shake the feeling that something bigger was coming. Something tied to her death, The Architect’s arrival, and the strange figure’s warning.

But for now?

She was stuck babysitting a cosmic idiot.

And somehow… that was starting to feel like her new normal.

----------------------------------------

The Architect strolled through the city as if he owned it which, in his mind, he sort of did. He had, after all, helped shape the universe. A tweak here, a sprinkle of stardust there… surely Earth was just another one of his many masterpieces.

Mortals should have been honored.

Chara, floating beside him like the world’s most sarcastic guardian spirit, was not impressed.

“You need to stop ‘helping’ people,” she said, arms crossed. “You’ve got the subtlety of a wrecking ball.”

“Nonsense!” The Architect declared, sweeping an arm dramatically toward the sky. “Subtlety is overrated. Impact is the hallmark of a true artist.”

“Yeah, well, maybe stop making your ‘art’ on other people’s lives, Picasso.”

He opened his mouth to retort probably with something pretentious but stopped. Something shimmered in the distance. A crackling tear in reality, faint but unmistakable. To normal humans, it would’ve been invisible. To beings tied to cosmic forces, it was like a neon sign screaming: DANGER HERE

Chara froze mid‑float. “Uh… what’s that?”

The Architect squinted. “Ah. A temporal anomaly. Harmless, most likely. Possibly.”

“Possibly?” Chara’s voice jumped an octave. “Last time I heard ‘possibly harmless,’ it involved my brother putting fireworks in the toaster!”

“Fascinating invention, toasters,” The Architect mused. “Wish i wouldve thought of them myself.”

“Focus!” Chara snapped. “What does it mean?”

He rubbed Chara’s chin thoughtfully. “The fabric of reality is thinning. No doubt a side effect of…” He hesitated, looking mildly guilty. “…my brief experimentation with bicycles. And humans.”

“You mean you did this,” Chara deadpanned.

“Semantics,” he replied quickly. “But don’t worry! I will restore balance, as always.”

He strode toward the anomaly with the confidence of someone who had never once suffered consequences.

The moment he approached, the crackling tear pulsed and expanded. Dark tendrils of energy lashed out, twisting and writhing, pulling at the edges of the world. Passersby didn’t notice humans were remarkably good at ignoring reality-breaking events when they were busy with their phones.

“Okay, that does NOT look harmless,” Chara said, floating backward. “What’s your plan?”

“Plan?” The Architect repeated. “I improvise, my dear ghostly companion. The best plans are written after success.”

“You’re kidding me.”

The anomaly hissed, and something began to emerge a creature of chaos, its form constantly shifting. One moment it had claws, the next tendrils, then fiery wings. It didn’t seem bound by any natural laws.

“Well, that’s new,” The Architect said, tilting Chara’s head. “I’ve seen entropy demons before, but this one has flair.”

The chaos creature roared, shaking the ground. People nearby paused, glanced around, shrugged, and went back to scrolling TikTok.

Chara’s ghostly form flickered with panic. “How do we stop it?!”

“Stop it?” The Architect replied, baffled. “Why would we stop it? I shall reason with it.”

“Reason? You can’t even reason with me!”

Ignoring her, he stepped forward and raised his hands in a diplomatic gesture.

“Greetings, entity of chaos! I am The Architect, steward of universal order. I’d like to discuss your… dramatic entrance.”

The creature let out a guttural noise somewhere between a growl and a laugh. “You dare address me?” it snarled. “You, who meddle in the balance?”

“Meddling is such a strong word,” The Architect replied. “I prefer ‘creative reinterpretation.’”

The creature lunged, tendrils snapping dangerously close. Chara screamed though only The Architect could hear her.

“Okay, bad idea!” she yelled. “What’s Plan B?!”

The Architect sighed. “Mortals and their obsession with second plans… Fine.”

He snapped his fingers.

Suddenly, Chara’s body the one he was piloting erupted in brilliant cosmic light. The chaos creature recoiled, hissing.

Chara stared at her glowing form. “What… what did you do?!”

“I temporarily imbued your vessel with a fraction of my essence,” he explained. “You are now, for lack of a better term, a beacon of cosmic energy.”

“That sounds… not good.”

“It will repel the creature long enough for me to seal the anomaly. Do try not to explode.”

“What?!”

Before she could protest, The Architect turned to the anomaly, weaving his hands in intricate patterns. Symbols of pure energy formed in the air, swirling into a glowing sigil. The chaos creature writhed, trying to avoid Chara’s radiant form.

“You’d better hurry!” she yelled. “I think it’s getting angry!”

The Architect didn’t respond, fully focused. Slowly, the crackling edges of the anomaly began to shrink, the tendrils retreating.

Finally, with a triumphant flourish, he sealed the tear. The chaos creature dissolved into nothingness. The glowing energy around Chara’s body faded, and she drifted back into her ghostly form, looking both relieved and furious.

“Never. Do. That. Again,” she said, jabbing a spectral finger at him.

“Nonsense! You performed admirably,” The Architect said, brushing imaginary dust from Chara’s jacket. “And look no explosions!”

Chara groaned. “This is my afterlife now, isn’t it? Babysitting a cosmic idiot.”

The Architect smiled genuinely, for once. “A noble task, wouldn’t you agree?”

She glared. “Not even a little.”

But despite herself… she didn’t float away.

Not yet.