The gate swallowed him whole before his boots had even crossed the threshold. Not in the way a door closes behind you, not in a way that breaks flesh or bone. No… this was worse. It tore at him from the inside, gnawing at the edges of his mind, scattering thoughts, fears, fragments of himself like splintered glass across the void.
One moment, he was gripping the Codex, boots pounding against the flickering glyphs of the bridge. The next, he was in a chamber that wasn't a chamber. Space itself had bent and inverted, a place that should not have existed.
Walls weren't walls, not really. They shifted endlessly, a mass of error messages stacked like jagged, screaming bricks. Silent, yet heavy. Heavy with meaning. Heavy with accusation. The floor beneath him flickered between stone and circuitry, threatening to vanish at any misstep. And above… above, the Anchor Core floated like a grotesque, pulsing heart, suspended impossibly in midair.
It refused form. Crimson orb one second, skeletal engine of white gears the next, then nothing but chaotic static. And every beat… every thrum… synced perfectly with his chest. As if the Core had learned him, had claimed him.
The Duck Emperor hissed, sharp and urgent. Not a quack. A hiss. Feathers bristling with electricity, sparks dancing across its wings. It planted itself defensively between him and the Core.
The Codex rattled in his hands, pages flapping like wings in a storm. He tightened his grip, knuckles white, each page struggling against the pull of the chaos.
[Anchor Core Detected]
[Identity Distortion Hazard: Maximum]
[Objective: Neutralize or Assimilate]
The clone leaned casually against a flicker of void, hands shoved in pockets, grin wide, eyes gleaming. "Beautiful, isn't it?"
Erevan ground his teeth. "That thing's—"
"—you," the clone cut in softly, eyes never leaving the Core. "Or at least the part of you they buried. The part they didn't want walking around."
The Core pulsed harder, walls of error messages shrieking and cascading in jagged rivers.
[ACCESS DENIED]
[ACCESS DENIED]
[ACCESS DENIED]
The clone stepped forward, shoulders relaxed, movement unnervingly calm. "All you have to do is touch it. Assimilate it. Accept what you are. Stop feeling like you're dying every five minutes."
The Duck Emperor flared its wings, quacking sharp and urgent, feathers sparking bright. It planted itself between them, a tiny guardian, a ridiculous little warrior refusing to back down.
Erevan lifted the Codex, voice hoarse. "Then… what if I destroy it?"
[Projected Outcome: Anchor Collapse]
[Consequence: Structural Damage to Reality Layer]
[Chance of Personal Survival: 13%]
His stomach dropped. "Thirteen percent?"
The clone snorted, tilting his head lazily. "Better odds than usual for you."
The Core pulsed again, throwing fragments into the void—shards of memories, or what felt like memories. Glimpses of a life he might have lived: sitting at a desk, fingers flying across keys, screens flickering with endless lines of code. Streets that shouldn't exist, laughter from faces he didn't recognize… a girl's face, painfully familiar, dissolving into static.
Knees threatening to buckle, he forced air into his lungs. "Not mine. Not mine."
The Duck Emperor quacked, a pulse of white light emanating from it. Anchor Stability +5%. Not much, but enough to breathe, enough to keep moving.
The clone tilted his head, mocking softly. "Keep lying to yourself, if it makes you feel safe."
The Core throbbed, a thunderous pulse drilling into his chest: Accept me. Accept me. Accept me.
The chamber shivered. Tendrils of red static licked outward, tearing at the floor. Not monsters, not glitches… shadows of himself rose. Dozens of them. Each carried a fractured Codex: one with a blade of pure script, another with a rifle of corrupted fragments, one barely a silhouette with glowing eyes.
The clone spread his arms, grinning like a proud parent. "Your competition has arrived."
The Duck Emperor leapt forward, battle-quacking, feathers now blades of light. Erevan raised the Codex, glyphs flaring, bracing for the storm.
[Anchor Core Defense Phase Initiated]
[Objective: Survive the Projections]
[Wave 1 Incoming]
The Core's pulse hit him like a physical blow, rattling bones that weren't even supposed to exist in this space. Every thrum twisted his thoughts, tugged at the edges of himself, whispering promises and threats in the same breath.
Flashes erupted across his mind—memories that weren't his. Streets bathed in sunlight, crowds cheering, laughter he didn't recognize but somehow felt he should. A library filled with books he had never read, shelves bending impossibly, yet… familiar.
Shadows of himself rose from the floor like living ink, crawling and coiling with intent. Each one carried a fragment of the Codex, weapons forged from words and symbols: blades of glowing script, rifles of jagged corrupted fragments, one with nothing but hollow eyes staring into his chest.
The clone sidestepped a shadow lazily, arms still behind his back, grinning. "Go on. Test yourself. They're… persistent, aren't they?"
Erevan's chest tightened, heart hammering. "Persistent? That's polite for murderous doppelgängers."
The Duck Emperor flared its wings, quacking sharply, feathers sparking into blades of pure white light. It cut through a wave of shadows with precise, furious movements, quacking again, like it was giving him instructions through its chaos.
He lifted the Codex. Pages tore and reassembled mid-air, glyphs flaring with each flick of his wrist. Sparks of corrupted script erupted, slicing through a shadow lunging from the side. Another came from above. Another from behind.
[Anchor Stability: 29%]
He swallowed, gasping as the Core's rhythm thudded in tandem with his own heartbeat, a relentless drum of temptation and fear. Every pulse pulled at his sense of self, reminding him of what he had denied, what he had hidden—even from himself.
The Codex vibrated violently in his hands. A hidden message burned into his mind:
[Hidden Entry: Identity Lock Override]
[Condition: Anchor Core Contact Required]
One touch. One single step closer, and he risked everything. Assimilation, destruction, override… every option a knife pressed to his identity.
The shadows surged, circling him like a storm of broken selves. Each strike from the Codex shredded one, only for two more to rise in its place.
The Duck Emperor quacked furiously, slicing a pair of shadows apart with wings glowing like molten light. It pulsed again beside him, tethering him fractionally from complete destabilization.
The clone leaned closer, grin sharp, voice teasing but eerily calm. "Go on. Step closer. Touch it. Take control—or let it control you."
Erevan exhaled, jaw tight, Codex blazing white-hot. His mind screamed with a thousand questions. Each heartbeat was agony, the Core thumping against him like it had its own consciousness, insisting: Accept me. Accept me. Accept me.
Memory flashes crashed again: childhood laughter he didn't remember, arguments that were simultaneously his and not his, streets and skies from impossible lives. It wasn't memory. It wasn't reality. It was both, or neither, a tide threatening to wash him away.
A shadow lunged from the side, script-blade flickering. He slammed the Codex up, glyphs exploding outward. Sparks cut the air. Another shadow dove from above, another from behind.
The Duck Emperor cut through the chaos, feathers flashing in arcs of stabilizing light. Quack! Quack!
[System Choice Triggered]
[Option A: Assimilate Anchor Core = Full Stabilization, Identity Risk Extreme]
[Option B: Destroy Anchor Core = Collapse Risk 87%]
[Option C: Override Anchor Core = Unknown Outcome]
Erevan's fingers tightened around the Codex. "Unknown outcome. Of course it's unknown."
The clone's grin softened, almost reverent. "You already know which path feels… right."
Every step toward the Core was a war inside his own chest. The shadows pressed, the Core pulsed, his heartbeat tangled with its rhythm. The Codex flared with one final, blinding pulse, guiding, stabilizing, daring him forward.
The pull of the Core was irresistible, like gravity and desire entwined. One touch. One step. One decision.
Erevan inhaled, heart hammering, sweat stinging his eyes. He surged forward, Codex ablaze, quaking through the storm of black glyphs, the Duck Emperor slicing paths through the shadows like a tiny, furious lighthouse.
And as his hand brushed the pulsating Core…
The world shattered.
The Core's pulse consumed him. Not physically, but mentally, spiritually—everything he was seemed to tremble in its rhythm. Reality blurred; colors tore, twisted, and reformed like molten metal under unseen hands. The shadows around him screamed, their forms fracturing and reassembling, each one a distorted echo of him, a warning, a temptation.
Erevan's grip on the Codex was white-knuckled, his breath shallow. Steady. Focus. You're not them. You're not them.
The Core throbbed, each beat perfectly syncing with his own heartbeat, mocking, inviting, demanding. Touch me. Take control. Be whole.
[Anchor Core Contact Required for Identity Lock Override]
One step. One movement forward. His body moved before thought could even weigh the consequence. The shadows lunged, Codex pages blazing like a sun as they tore through blackened fragments of himself.
The Duck Emperor quacked fiercely, wings slicing arcs of stabilizing light, tethering him, reminding him of what was real.
Erevan's mind screamed in ten thousand voices, but one spark of clarity held firm. I am Erevan. Not fragments. Not simulations. Not placeholders.
He reached out. Fingers brushed the Core.
The world detonated.
Not in fire or smoke, but perception itself collapsing. Colors screamed. Shapes twisted impossibly. Every heartbeat thudded against his chest, then with it, then inside it. The Codex flared, responding, stabilizing, guiding him through the storm.
A thousand memories—his, not his, possible lives, simulations, fragments of the Root—washed over him. Childhood laughter, arguments long forgotten, fleeting images of streets he might have walked, faces he could almost name. They crashed, entwined, and finally… settled.
A voice, deep and certain, rang in his mind:
You are Erevan. You are not a placeholder. You are whole.
The shadows faltered, wavering like mist in sunlight, then vanished entirely. The Core pulsed one final time, violently, before settling into calm. Crimson light softened to a steady glow. The chamber no longer screamed; it breathed.
The Duck Emperor landed beside him, ruffling feathers, quacking softly, a tiny, absurd beacon of triumph.
The clone's grin softened, respect now layered beneath the usual teasing. "You did it," he said quietly. "You didn't just survive… you became something else."
Erevan exhaled, lungs burning, chest aching. The rhythm of the Architect Heart—his own heartbeat—was steady again. The Codex closed gently in his hands, and for the first time, he felt entire.
[Anchor Core Override Successful]
[Identity Stabilization: Complete]
[Residual Fragment Risk: Negligible]
He sank to his knees, laughter raw and incredulous. "I… I'm actually me."
The clone nodded, stepping back. "And don't forget… this is only the beginning."
The Duck Emperor quacked decisively, hopping forward, urging him onward. "Let's go," it seemed to say.
Erevan straightened, Codex in hand. Around him, the chamber was quiet, stable—but the Root was still alive, still watching, still testing. He knew the battles weren't over, but for the first time, he felt ready. Whole. Centered. Powerful.
And somewhere, deep within the pulse of the Core and the rhythm of the void, he sensed the next path waiting.
He took a deep breath. Let the Root come. Let it test him. Let it try.
He was Erevan. And he was ready.