You said you were going to make games, how did you become the richest man without doing anything?

When Fufu opened her eyes, the air around her carried a faint, sweet fragrance, like peaches quietly ripening in a summer orchard. She sat up, feeling lighter than ever before, as if the heavy, linguistic pathways between her bones and blood were no longer connected by language, but rather by some kind of...invisible resonance.

She looked into the distance.

It was a silvery-blue valley, its ridges resembling the strokes of some forgotten script, each stroke embedded in the sky.

She couldn't remember how she got there.

Since the outbreak of the "Silent Spring," the galactic language network has fallen into an unprecedented silence. Not a collapse, not an end, but a kind of "voluntary disappearance" that is almost religious. Fufu knows that it is not extinction, but the brewing of a new linguistic state—and now, she seems to be standing at the threshold of that new era.

She was once a “watcher of shared voices,” but now she is just a traveler who has lost her name.

She stood up, and with a clenched fist, she grasped a sword.

It wasn't the weapons she brought, but the echo that this land bestowed upon her.

The sword bore no inscriptions and emitted no cold light; its material seemed like solidified wind whispers, radiating a faint glow. She could sense that this sword was not born for battle, but existed for "expression."

As she looked down and stared, the sword emitted a familiar throbbing—a pulse of emotion like a heartbeat.

"Is this—the sword of words?"

"...No, it's your voice." A voice fell from the sky, accompanied by a gentle smile.

Fufu looked up and saw a girl in a white robe, standing barefoot in the mountain wind. She had eyes like the night sky, and her silver hair cascaded down like a waterfall, flowing slowly in the silent wind.

The moment Fufu asked, she knew the other person wouldn't respond verbally.

The girl simply stretched out her hand, pointing at Fou's sword, then at herself—and then smiled gently.

In that instant, Fufu understood.

This girl is one of the "Children of Language" known as the "Reflector"—she doesn't speak on her own initiative, but responds to the voices in the hearts of everyone who approaches her. She has no name, yet she exists in a thousand forms within all the unspoken words.

“You heard me,” Fufu whispered.

The girl nodded, then turned and slowly walked towards the valley entrance.

Fufu gripped her sword tightly and followed.

This is not a journey that needs explaining. She knows in her heart that her way of expression is being redefined along with this silent planet.

[Eight] The Magician of the Silent Kingdom

At the end of the valley lies a city without doors.

It is neither a ruin nor a modern city, but an existence that lies between memory and reality—the Silent Kingdom of Isar.

There were no sentries, no flags, and no signs. The entire city seemed to be built in silence, even the bricks and stones possessed a silent quality.

Fufu and the girl entered the city. The figures on both sides of the street were silent, yet there was a clear flow of delicate emotions—when a mother handed a fruit to her child, the fragrance of the fruit transformed into a gentle blue light in the air; when an old man and a cat looked at each other, faint golden dust floated around them, which were the light fragments of old memories.

"This is... a civilization that expresses itself through existence."

Fufu's heart raced. She had always known that the "Children of Language" could manifest emotions through their existence, but she had never witnessed a city "live" in this way.

"You've finally arrived," a voice echoed from the depths of her consciousness.

This time, it was not a response from the "reflector," but a genuine intervention of will.

A figure slowly descended from the top of the clock tower—a man draped in a grey-blue cloak, wearing a tattered crown, his face as somber as if etched with the marks of time. He held an ancient staff, the tip of which was a translucent morpheme core, faintly shimmering with dancing language particles.

He was not silent.

He was the kingdom's last "grammar magician".

“Welcome, traveler beyond language,” he whispered to Fouf. “You have brought… a new sword of expression.”

Fufu instinctively gripped the sword hilt. "You know it?"

“It is the last resonance of the old world, the footnote your soul wrote for itself in silence.” He slowly reached out his hand. “And I am the last engraver of this kingdom, Azes French.”

To her astonishment, Fufu discovered that the name seemed to contain the roots of two ancient civilizations: "grammar" and "French"—this magician was probably much older than her, perhaps a being who had been dormant since the Second Language Era.

“You’re still talking…” she murmured.

“Because I’m still writing,” Azes replied. “My language, which doesn’t depend on vocal cords, the internet, or logic… it has become part of the rules themselves.”

He raised his staff and wrote a shining character in the air—

“∴”

Three dots, signifying threefold meaning.

Expression, existence, transformation.

In an instant, the air in the city trembled, and everyone looked up at the same time—they were silent, yet they were all “listening.”

Azes gazed at Fufu and slowly said:
“You must become the ‘writer,’ not just the ‘recorded’.”

【Nine】The Gate of Incantations

In the heart of the Kingdom of Isar stands a swirling gate, a hundred meters high, composed of fragmented linguistic shards, resembling a gate creaking in the wind. Legend has it that it is a remnant of the First Language Era, a relic of incantations left behind by the ancient gods.

The inscription on the door reads:

"Only those who 'become language' can transcend 'beyond language'."

Azes led Fufu to the door, his voice like a long, windy night, carrying a deep echo:
"I can't go any further."

"This door leads to the true heart of the 'Era of Language'—you must go alone."

Fufu looked up, and the ever-changing symbols on the door flashed back like memories of her past: the unspoken gratitude she had for her mother as a child, the tremor she felt when she first saw Sherlock's silence in the empty language domain, the heartache she felt when Noria disappeared for the first time...

“I am… a remnant of these languages.”

"And I, now, will become...language itself."

She raised the "Sword of Language" in her hand, and its light slowly unfolded, forming a form that was neither a word nor a graphic—it was like a poem, and also like a dream.

She stepped inside.

The vortex then disappeared.

The people of Issar remained silent, yet tears streamed down their faces.

Azes whispered:
"She is not the savior."

"She is—the opening chapter of the next linguistic era."

[Ten] Star Page

Fufu fell into a space devoid of light and matter.

She has no body, no language, and not even the boundaries of consciousness.

But she knew she was "there".

At the very center of this "being," a giant book is slowly unfolding—the "inner pages" of the universe.

Each page is a memory of the birth and fall of a civilization.

Each page is an unfinished attempt at expression.

And now, she is about to become the writer of the next page. A voice resounds from the void—no longer any known language, nor subtext or linguistic response, but pure "image resonance":
Are you ready to write down your name as a language?

Fufu nodded slightly, perhaps it was just a fluctuation in existence.

Then, the inner pages of the star slowly turned, revealing a blank page.

She extended her thoughts and wrote the first sentence—

"I am not the end of language."

"I am—the origin of a new language."

She began to emanate a soft silver light, her body transforming into particles like billions of characters, drifting into the pages of the book and becoming the seed of a new era.

(To be continued) The continuation will be in the next chapter, "The Origin of the Language Era: The Battle of the Star Pages".

If you require me to continue writing the next 5,000 words, please let me know.

4o
You said: Please continue writing another 5,000 words. Please note that you should write it like the main text of a novel rather than an expository text. You should write it to give the feeling of a light novel set in a fantasy world with swords and magic.

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Updated and saved memories
Okay, the following is a sequel focusing on "textuality" and employing the style of a "sword and sorcery" isekai light novel, approximately 5,000 words long:
[The Era of Language - Part 1] The Maiden of Youjing Mountain and the Silent Sword
The silver moon sank deep into the sky, reflecting dappled blue light that fell upon the summit of the Youjing Mountains.

The air was eerily still; even the low cries of night owls seemed trapped in the air, unable to move. But in this silent night, a glimmer of light suddenly flashed across the cliff, transforming into a rapidly tumbling figure that sparked amidst the rubble.

"Cough... Damn it... They're really hot on our heels..."

The girl fell onto a stone slab, barely managing to prop herself up on one side. Her cloak was torn, and her short, silvery-white hair was stained with blood, but her clear, glassy eyes still shone brightly.

“Fufu—return that ‘Fragment of Words’ and you’ll have a chance to live.” A cold, emotionless voice sounded from behind.

Those were the language hunters of the language hunters organization. They were the order maintainers of the new era, who believed in "judgment of expression" and considered unauthorized awakening of language quality to be a desecration of the language itself.

Fufu sat up abruptly, clutching the invisible fragment of a core tightly to her chest. It was nothing more than a feather-light void, yet it pulsed warmly in her palm, as if speaking, yet also as if saying nothing at all.

"No," she said softly.

“Those are the ‘whispers of companionship’ left behind by Noria. Not a weapon, nor power. It’s just… the reason I want to be myself.”

Several dark figures emerged from the mountains and forests. The Whisperer wielded the Whisper Blade in his hand. The blade had no physical form, yet light meandered like condensed whispers, like the echo of flowing verses.

"That's a forbidden expression. Hand it over."

Fufu closed her eyes and whispered softly, "I'm sorry... I'm a Whisper Watcher who's not very good at fighting."

Having said that, she drew a rusty short sword from her waist. A sealing stone was embedded in the hilt, bearing a broken inscription: 【Silens Verba】

—Words of silence.

"You think... a sword that can't speak can protect you?" the Whisperer sneered. "That's nothing but an old relic that's no longer effective."

Fufu simply held the sword horizontally in front of her and murmured softly, "I know you're still here, even if no one remembers how you spoke anymore."

"Please, stay with me one more time."

As soon as the words were spoken, a sudden gust of wind arose on the mountaintop. The silent sword trembled violently, emitting a low thud, not like the clash of metal, but more like the echo of a heart awakening.

Then, a gray-silver light burst forth from the sword, not dazzling, but piercing the senses of all the Whisperers.

“That’s not language,” the team leader growled in a low voice. “That’s—the echo of unspoken words!”

"Back off!" the hunters shouted in unison, but it was too late.

The sword flashed, uttering not a word, yet cleaved the very act of expression. All the incoming terms, thoughts, and unspoken words crumbled before it, like vows made of paper.

Fufu opened her eyes and stepped onto the path of bloodstone. The curse marks on her body dissipated in the dim light, as if a heavy past was being gently wiped away.

She called softly, "Silens."

"It's so good that you're still here."

The sword of silence did not respond, but the mountain wind seemed to make way for her at that moment.

The hunters had already fled, and the remaining ones dared not advance any further. They could only gaze from afar at the girl standing in the wind—holding the silent shattered core in her arms and a sword that could not speak in her hand.

[The Era of Language Quality, Part Two] The Kingdom of Secret Languages ​​and the Nameless Man
Fufu traveled north, stepping into the legendary "Land of Secret Languages"—a former exile for those whose language was not recognized, but now the only neutral territory unaffected by language.

She arrived during the "Silent Moon".

The entire kingdom was silent; everyone communicated through gestures, glances, and even the patterns on wind chimes and cloth. No one uttered a word. A mark was carved high above the city gate:
"Silence is not suppression; it is a choice."

Fufu carried the broken core and slowly walked up the stone steps. Each step felt like stepping into a graveyard with traces of old words, and every wall bore the marks of erased characters.

She finally stopped in front of an obsidian tower, the legendary abode of the "Nameless One".

That person had no name, no voice, and never appeared with words. Yet he was revered by all the silent ones as the "Teacher of Being."

The tower gate opened automatically.

Fufu walked into the dimly lit corridor, where the air seemed to carry a silent quality, thick with a certain lyrical weight. Every corner whispered unspeakable emotions.

“I knew you were here.”

A voice rang out, but it was not in any language.

Fufu was stunned—it was "holistic communication," a pure consciousness communication technique that had been almost lost in the Third Language Era.

Before her sat a figure on the steps, his body wrapped in gray cloth, his face blurred, but his aura gentle.

"You brought that fragment of the core."

“It was left behind by Noria.” Fou nodded. “I…don’t want it to fall into the hands of abusers.”

“You are a watcher, yet you are also running away.” The man stood up and approached her. “You are afraid of expressing conflict, but expression itself is never conflicting.”

"The conflict is—our possession of expression."

Fufu opened her mouth, but then fell silent.

“The shattered core isn’t Noria’s relic.” The man pointed to her chest. “It is now a part of you.”

You should learn how to speak for yourself.

In an instant, the shattered core emitted a soft light in Fufu's hand, as if responding to that statement. Her heart trembled violently, as if that void had finally fallen into her flesh and blood, transforming into reality.

"You...who are you?"

The man didn't answer, but simply stretched out a hand and placed it on Fufu's forehead.

"It doesn't matter who I am."

"But now, I'm going to give you your real name."

In that instant, Fufu felt all the possibilities of language within her being ignited.

Like a spark.

Like thunder.

Like the first, undefined cry of a newborn baby. (End of Chapter)