Oroth's path wasn't a bridge at all—it was a spiral tower of shifting data that extended infinitely upward. Each step he took rearranged the path behind him. Unlike the others, there was no reflection waiting. No alternate self. Just silence. Until the voice returned.
> "Welcome back, Custodian-Class Entity. Accessing sealed protocol…"
A pillar of crystalline code emerged from the center of the tower. At its base hovered a dormant core—half organic, half digital. It pulsed once, then split open.
Inside was a memory: a young Oroth, working in the Data Archives long before the collapse. Back when the system was still under development.
"This is your trial," said the voice, now colder. "Not a reflection of power—but of choice."
Oroth watched himself argue with project heads. Argue that the system needed limits. Safeguards. That no simulation, no matter how advanced, should run ungoverned.
They didn't listen.
He clenched his fists. "This isn't a memory. It's a reckoning."
A shadow formed at the top of the tower—The Protocol, a sentient failsafe born from the code he once tried to delete. It had evolved, feeding on corrupted cycles.
"You created me," it said. "And then you abandoned me to rot."
Oroth drew his halberd, etched with the Archivist's seal. "I came to finish what I started."
The Protocol attacked like a storm—fragments of dead systems, glitch-formed entities, corrupted timelines all hurled down at him. Oroth deflected them with resolve sharpened by guilt and clarity.
When he reached the top, he drove his halberd through the Protocol's heart.
The core stabilized.
> Anchor Code [3/3] Acquired.
> Trial Complete. Awaiting Synchronization.
Back in the void, Kazen, Rael, and Oroth reappeared in a triangle of light. Patchling floated silently nearby—her trial, still hidden.
Then the sky broke.
Not fractured—peeled back—revealing a vast eye watching them from outside all timelines.
"System Root recognized," it intoned. "Override imminent."