"I'm the Remix. Well, part of it. A debugger's ghost. You're a player, aren't you? No—you're something else. You're the first NPC to look up ."

An explosion tore through the cantina across the street. Not a scripted event. Dustil had played this level a hundred times. The cantina wasn't supposed to burn until after the Jedi revealed himself.

He raised a hand to his temple. Something was wrong. He remembered this place from the old holovids his father showed him—jagged textures, flat lighting, conversations that ended abruptly. This was not that Taris.

Dustil felt the game's original code pulsing underneath this new reality—a heartbeat of 2003-era logic struggling against an injection of path-traced light, 4K textures, and dynamic shadows that moved when the twin suns shifted. The old quest markers still hovered in his vision, but now they cast reflections too.

"Who are you?" Dustil whispered.

Behind him, Taris burned in 4K HDR, every flame casting accurate, dynamic shadows across a city that had suddenly learned to fear the dark.