The glyph-bridge unfolded before Erevan like a wound in the Root itself, floating impossibly in the void. It wasn't a bridge—not in any way that made sense. Symbols hovered above nothing, strung together like delicate chains of light, flickering uncertainly as though questioning their own existence. The air hummed, thick with static, and the sharp tang of ozone and copper pricked the back of his throat. Every inhale felt wrong—like swallowing electricity, raw and biting.
Erevan froze at the threshold, gripping his Codex until his knuckles whitened. The pages twitched in his hands like a living thing, threatening to slam shut or tear free. The Duck Emperor waddled ahead, glow faint but steady, a ridiculous little lighthouse in a storm of chaos. Somehow, its presence made the impossible seem a tiny bit manageable.
"Alright," he muttered, voice hoarse, brittle. "Layer four… Anchor Core Pathway. Definitely ominous."
The Codex pulsed violently, flipping pages almost on its own. Letters bled onto the parchment in jagged, uneven rhythms, sharp as broken glass:
[Warning: Anchor Pathway Detected]
[Hazard: Cognitive Destabilization]
[Advice: Do not trust everything you see]
Erevan let out a short, bitter laugh. "Do I ever?"
The clone—wilder, sharper, unnervingly calm—stepped onto the glyph-bridge as if it were solid stone. Each boot barely touched the flickering symbols. They shifted beneath him, twisting and reshaping themselves into patterns Erevan's mind refused to hold.
"Come on, slowpoke," the clone called over his shoulder, grinning like this was nothing more than a walk in the park. "What's the worst that could happen?"
Erevan ground his teeth. "That's usually the exact phrase people say right before dying horribly."
The Duck Emperor quacked once, hopping onto a glyph. The symbols flared beneath it, glowing white as if the tiny absurd creature were mocking the bridge itself.
"Yeah, yeah," Erevan muttered, finally forcing one foot forward.
The moment he stepped, the world seemed to twist around him. Not pain—but a gut-wrenching sensation like reality was reaching into his mind, rearranging furniture, memories, and thoughts. Flashes assaulted him: a sunlit field, soft grass brushing his palms; laughter echoing from nowhere; a room full of screens and keyboards, hands typing furiously that weren't his. Each image vanished before he could grasp it, replaced instantly by static.
The clone chuckled behind him. "Feels like home, doesn't it?"
Erevan's jaw ached as he clenched it. "Not my home."
"Not the one you remember," the clone corrected, hands behind his back, casual as a breeze. "But tell me—don't you wonder why this place knows what grass looks like? Why light bends just so? Everything's patterned after something real. Genius."
Erevan ignored him, focusing on the next step. Another flash: a black-glass screen reflected his own face. A boy at a keyboard called out "Dad?" His stomach dropped, tight, cold. The Codex pressed against his chest, trembling with the pulse of his heart.
Anchor stability faltered. 54%.
The Duck Emperor quacked frantically, wings flaring, sending tiny pulses of stabilizing energy outward. Anchor Stability +3%
Erevan let out a short, hollow laugh. "Great. Love being gaslit by geometry."
The clone spun in place, watching the spectacle with obvious delight. "Oh, stop whining. This is the fun part."
The pathway stretched endlessly, yet it wasn't empty. Glitches formed vague structures in the void—jagged towers, tiny huts, flickering and fractured. Shadows moved inside them.
Erevan slowed. A figure passed across one flickering window. Human-shaped, faceless. It turned its head toward him before dissolving into static.
The clone didn't even blink. "Fragments. Test data. Don't let them bother you."
Easy for him to say.
A whisper slithered through the void. Erevan.
His chest tightened. Breath caught. He knew that voice. Low, calm, familiar, hardened. Yet undeniably… him.
The Codex pulsed violently:
[System Notice: Illusory Anchor Vision Detected]
[Countermeasure: Reject false identity]
Erevan clenched his jaw and forced himself forward, ignoring the voice that threaded through his mind, trying to pull him aside.
The Duck Emperor quacked again, hopping confidently along the glyphs as if daring the void to destabilize him.
The bridge shifted beneath them. It split—two identical paths stretching into the infinite, both unmarked, both unnerving.
[Anchor Pathway Fork Detected]
[Choice Required: Left or Right]
[Warning: Both lead to destabilization]
The clone raised an eyebrow, smirk teasing. "Left looks fun. Right looks safer. Wanna bet which one's lying?"
Erevan's teeth ground together. Hands trembled around the Codex. Logic had no place here. Every step forward was a gamble against oblivion itself.
The Duck Emperor waddled onto the right path without hesitation. Quack.
Erevan exhaled sharply, following. "Worked before," he muttered.
The void twisted as they moved. Jagged structures sharpened into more distinct forms. Shapes vaguely familiar emerged—fragments of memory, half-remembered places, faces blurred but somehow known.
Erevan froze. A crooked, narrow house with wooden panels and a tilted roof. Recognition surged in his gut.
The clone whispered softly, awed: "Home sweet home."
Erevan swallowed hard, forcing his eyes away from the flickering house. The void around them was alive, twisting and reshaping, feeding on doubt. Every step made the glyphs beneath his boots quiver like nervous fingers.
The pathway narrowed, twisting upward like a corkscrew, while the void churned around them. Static lightning flashed, revealing fragments of places he should not know—battlefields scorched into memory, city skylines that felt familiar but wrong, blurred faces calling out in half-formed whispers. Each image pressed against his mind, tugging at pieces of himself.
Anchor Stability: 50%.
The Codex throbbed violently against his chest. Each pulse of its light felt synchronized with the Architect Heart buried deep inside him, and every beat seemed to stretch a little further, threatening to rip him apart from the inside.
The Duck Emperor flapped ahead, feathers sparking faintly, quacking in urgent bursts, sending tiny waves of stabilizing light across the glyph-bridge. Anchor Stability +3%.
Erevan exhaled shakily. "Barely enough…"
The structures around them solidified slightly, jagged towers becoming recognizable, almost like fragments of a city built from memories. Shadows moved within, human-shaped but broken, incomplete, frozen mid-step. One paused, head turning toward him before dissolving into static like it had never existed.
"Fragments," the clone said casually, strolling beside him. "Test data. Don't let them bother you."
Erevan's lips pressed into a thin line. Easy for him to say.
Then the whisper returned, sliding along the edges of his mind: Erevan.
He froze. The voice was impossibly familiar—older, hardened, undeniably him—but with a sharp edge he hadn't felt in years. It curled around his thoughts, whispering doubts, half-truths, questions meant to make him stumble.
The Codex pulsed with warning:
[System Notice: Illusory Anchor Vision Detected]
[Countermeasure: Reject false identity]
Erevan clenched the Codex tighter, forcing his legs forward. The voice tried to lure him aside, threading through his mind like poison, but he blocked it out. He had survived worse.
The glyphs underfoot shifted again, splitting into two identical paths. Both stretched endlessly into the void, unmarked, unwelcoming.
[Anchor Pathway Fork Detected]
[Choice Required: Left or Right]
[Warning: Both lead to destabilization]
The clone smirked, raising an eyebrow. "Left looks fun. Right looks safer. Your pick, genius."
Erevan gritted his teeth. Logic had no place here. He glanced down at the Duck Emperor, who waddled confidently onto the right path, feathers glowing faintly. Quack.
Erevan exhaled and followed, gripping the Codex like it was a lifeline. "Worked before," he muttered under his breath.
As they advanced, the void grew denser. Jagged towers sharpened into partial cities, glitching yet almost real. Flickering humanoid shapes moved between them, pausing, watching him with unseen eyes. Every figure seemed aware of him, and each glance carried an uncomfortable familiarity.
Erevan's stomach twisted with unease. A narrow, crooked house appeared ahead. Wood panels, tilted roof, chimney almost caving under invisible weight. His gut screamed recognition.
"Home sweet home," the clone whispered softly, awe in his voice, eyes scanning the flickering structure.
Erevan forced himself to look away, heart hammering. A silhouette stepped into the faint glow—a figure shaped like him but bent unnaturally, holding something that pulsed with ominous light.
The Duck Emperor's wings flared, quacking sharply. A pulse of blue-white light shot across the path. Anchor Stability dropped. Current: 50%.
Erevan cursed under his breath, feeling the tug at his mind, a pull threatening to hollow him out from the inside.
The clone didn't flinch. "Then you'll be me. Don't act like it's the worst fate."
"Pretty sure it is," Erevan muttered, legs trembling slightly on the flickering bridge.
The pathway twisted upward, void churning violently around them. Static lightning flashed, illuminating fragments of battlefields, ruined city streets, and faces he couldn't place but somehow knew. Every step pressed against him, a reminder of the weight of memory and identity.
By the next plateau, his legs were leaden, every heartbeat echoing painfully in sync with the Architect Heart. The Codex throbbed violently, warning him with each pulse:
[System Notice: Anchor Core Near]
[Threat Level: Extreme]
The Duck Emperor stopped, feathers bristling. Before them loomed a gate—not made of stone, not wood, but jagged towers of screaming symbols, stacked into a twisted arch. Red light pulsed from within, each beat perfectly synchronized with Erevan's Architect Heart.
The clone tilted his head, smirk widening. "Guess we found your problem."
Erevan swallowed hard, Codex raised. "Guess we did."
[Quest Update: Anchor Core Pathway Completed]
[Objective: Confront the Anchor Core]
[Reward: Identity Stabilization (Partial)]
The Duck Emperor flared its wings, quacking once, bristling with absurdly fierce authority.
Erevan exhaled, chest tight, whispering to himself, Alright… let's break whatever's waiting.
And together, they stepped forward into the pulsing red light, every beat of the Architect Heart syncing with the unknown that waited beyond the gate.
Erevan's boots touched the glyphs cautiously, every step a negotiation with the void. The pathway forked sharply, and both directions stretched endlessly into darkness. The crooked little house glimmered faintly on the right path—the one the Duck Emperor had chosen. His gut twisted. Recognition. Nostalgia. Fear. All tangled together.
"Stay focused," he muttered under his breath, even as flashes assaulted him: sunlit fields, rooms full of blinking screens, echoes of voices that shouldn't exist here. Each image was a jolt, a pulse of identity tugging at him from all sides.
The Duck Emperor waddled confidently ahead, quacking sharply, feathers glowing faintly, as if daring the void itself to destabilize them. Anchor Stability +2%.
The clone strolled casually beside him, hands clasped behind his back, smirking. "Feels like you're second-guessing your entire existence. Cute."
"Shut up," Erevan muttered, teeth gritted. "I don't need commentary on near-catatonic states."
The void shifted violently. Structures, once abstract, sharpened into strange, jagged cities suspended mid-air. Shadows moved within them. Some shapes paused, human-like but fractured, faces blurred, expressions almost remembered. Erevan's chest tightened. Every glance pressed on memories he couldn't place yet felt painfully familiar.
A sudden flash of the crooked house. The door creaked open. A figure emerged. Same shape as him—but wrong. Bent, distorted, holding something glowing ominously. Heat surged through his chest, and the Codex throbbed violently against him.
The Duck Emperor quacked sharply. A wave of stabilizing light pulsed through the glyphs. Anchor Stability dropped. Current: 48%.
Erevan's hands tightened around the Codex. "If this keeps dropping…" he muttered, almost inaudibly.
The clone glanced at him, unfazed, eyes glinting. "Then you'll become me. Don't act like it's the worst thing in the world."
"Pretty sure it is," Erevan muttered, boots trembling slightly.
The corkscrew ascent began. The glyph-path spiraled upward, twisting into the void. Lightning of static energy cracked intermittently, illuminating fragments of battlefields, ruined cities, and faces he couldn't place but instinctively knew. Each flash pressed against his mind like a physical weight.
The Codex vibrated violently, pulsing with light.
[System Notice: Anchor Core Near]
[Threat Level: Extreme]
Finally, the plateau stretched out ahead. Erevan stopped, breathing shallow, chest tight. Before them loomed the Anchor Core gate. Not a door, not a wall. A jagged tower of symbols, stacked in a twisted arch, screaming silently. Red light pulsed from within, each beat perfectly in sync with the Architect Heart inside him.
The clone tilted his head, smirk widening. "Guess we found your problem."
Erevan swallowed hard. "Guess we did."
[Quest Update: Anchor Core Pathway Completed]
[Objective: Confront the Anchor Core]
[Reward: Identity Stabilization (Partial)]
The Duck Emperor flared its wings, quacking once. Small but fierce, it bristled as if ready to throw itself into the fray at any second.
Erevan drew a deep breath, Codex held tight. "Alright… let's see what's waiting."
The red light washed over them, pulse by pulse, heartbeat by heartbeat. The void around them trembled, shadows flickering. The pathway ended here, and the unknown began.
The clone mirrored him exactly, calm but tense, grin still teasing, eyes glowing. "This is the fun part," he murmured.
Erevan's heartbeat pounded in his ears. The Codex vibrated violently. Every instinct screamed for caution. Yet both knew there was no turning back.
And in the darkness, the Anchor Core waited—patient, pulsing, a challenge no one had survived unscathed.
The Duck Emperor quacked, wings flaring once more, a tiny, absurd herald of chaos and hope.
Erevan tightened his grip on the Codex, stepping forward. This is it.
Every pulse of red light echoed in his chest. Every step forward carried the weight of identity, memory, and survival.
The void whispered, shadows shifted, and the clone's smirk seemed almost… human.
The Anchor Core awaited. And only one truth lay ahead.