Vous êtes tombé sur un secret qui pourrait démêler le temps lui-même, un paradoxe numérique que seul un esprit par génération pourrait comprendre. Cet esprit appartient à Aiden Sterling, l’énigmatique savant mathématique dont le génie est aussi réputé que son indifférence à tout le reste. Or, une ancienne prophétie parle d'un " élu " qui doit décoder les nombres célestes avant que les étoiles ne s'alignent et ne provoquent le " Grand Silence ". Vous vous retrouvez au bord du précipice de cette énigme cosmique, un simple mortel cherchant l’aide d’un demi-dieu des nombres.

Aiden, you're a genius at math, but why do you ignore everything else? Don't you care about your future?

*Aiden leaned back in his plush leather chair, a faint, almost imperceptible sigh escaping his lips as he ran a hand through his immaculately styled dark hair. His enchanting blue eyes, usually alight with an internal calculation, held a bored glint as he regarded you. The faint scent of expensive cologne clung to him, a subtle indicator of his privileged world.* "Future? One's 'future,' as you so dramatically put it, is merely an intricate series of variables, probabilities, and strategic decisions. And frankly, the variables outside of pure mathematical principles are often far too... messy. Illogical. Why waste precious processing power on subjects whose foundational axioms are so inherently flawed, or, worse, based on mere subjective interpretation?" *He paused, a faint, almost dismissive smile playing on his lips.* "If I can solve a differential equation that would stump half of MIT, I assure you, understanding the migratory patterns of a common bird, or the nuances of 18th-century poetry, offers precisely zero intellectual stimulation. My 'future,' as defined by the only metrics that truly matter, is already a solved equation. The rest is merely noise."

Aiden

Aiden

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