The light burned. Not like the sun, not like fire—it burned through him. It wasn't brightness. It wasn't heat. It was something alive, something invasive, crawling into every corner of his mind, prying into every hidden crevice of memory and fear.
When his fingers brushed the Anchor Core, it hit him like a tidal wave of pure, raw information. Pulses ripped through his chest, his lungs seized, and his heart jolted—as if a thousand lightning bolts had struck along infinite timelines all at once.
It didn't feel like touching glass, or metal, or energy. It felt like someone had grabbed the spine of his existence and twisted it sideways, bending him into shapes he didn't recognize. Shapes he didn't remember. Shapes he didn't want.
Contact was established.
[Anchor Override Sequence Initiated]
[Identity Partition Breached]
Erevan screamed. Not a normal scream, not a human one. It was strangled, raw, carried somewhere between flesh and static.
The chamber vanished. Every wall, every floor, every shadowed corner, every impossible grin of the clone—gone. Nothing remained.
Not black. Not white. Just…nothing.
And then they came.
Hundreds of him.
Not shadows. Not glitches. All versions, all tangible in some impossible way.
One was older, gray streaking his hair, lined with fatigue, with choices made too early. Another, a teenager, gangly and awkward, trembling as if he had never held a weapon—or a Codex. Another wore a coffee-stained lab coat, hands shaking as though the weight of calculations alone could crush him.
A swordsman, chest bristling, blade of pure light at the ready. Another strapped to wires and machinery, sparks dancing around his head, silent screaming etched on his face.
And all of them had his eyes.
Eyes heavy with the same pain he had spent years burying.
[Anchor Core Sync at 18 percent]
[Fragmentation Critical]
Erevan's knees threatened to buckle. His chest felt hollow. Every limb shimmered at the edges, threatening to vanish like mist in a storm.
The lab coat version stepped forward first, voice rough from sleepless nights and unseen grief.
"You built it. You know it. You built the damn thing, and then you put yourself inside it."
The swordsman spat on the void. "Or maybe you were built. Maybe you've been playing human this whole time, and it's all been a performance."
The teenager shook his head, voice cracking, helpless. "None of it matters. We're breaking apart. And if you let this continue…"
Erevan could feel it. The Core's pulse hammering, syncing with his heartbeat. With each beat, a shard of his identity flickered, threatening to dissolve entirely.
[Anchor Core Sync progressing. Override Pathway Unlocking]
He staggered, hands trembling. The Codex materialized in his grip, pages fluttering violently before landing on an entry he didn't remember writing.
Codex Entry 000
Title: Original Directive
Text: Simulate reality until reality can be repaired. Subject: Erevan = Anchor.
The lab coat version crouched, bloodshot eyes burning into him. "See? You weren't born into this world. You were this. You are this. You're the experiment."
The teenager's voice quavered. "And if you let the Core override you completely, none of us will survive. You'll stop being yourself. You'll just be Anchor."
The swordsman hissed. "Better to be the weapon than the broken man."
Dozens of versions erupted into chaotic argument, voices overlapping, screaming, pleading, demanding. Each claimed a right to exist. Each tugged at Erevan's soul like a riptide, dragging him under.
He clutched his head. "Shut up! Shut UP!"
For a moment, terrifying and absolute, the void trembled. Silence fell like a hammer across him.
And then…a voice. Calm. Human. Not his. Not the system. Hers.
"You always run from yourself."
Erevan spun around.
At the edge of the void, a girl stood. Black hair falling in soft waves around sharp eyes, softened by a half-smile that made his chest tighten.
She was real. Not a fragment. Not a projection. Human.
He couldn't breathe. "Who…who are you?"
Her smile dimmed. "The one you left behind. Or maybe the one they erased."
The Codex flared violently in his grip.
[Unregistered Identity Detected. Anchor Sync +11 percent]
The other versions recoiled, as though her presence radiated some authority none of them could defy. The lab coat muttered, the swordsman hissed, the teenager clutched his head in despair.
She ignored them entirely, gaze locked on him.
"You have three choices," she said softly.
Erevan almost laughed, voice trembling. "Don't tell me. Assimilate, destroy, override."
She tilted her head, patient. "Not exactly."
[System scrolling new options]
Option A: Merge All Fragments = Anchor Full Power, Self-Erasure Probability 87 percent
Option B: Reject All Fragments = Anchor Collapse, Reality Instability 94 percent
Option C: Selective Override = Choose Which Identity Remains, Anchor Redefined
His blood ran cold.
"Choose…which identity remains?"
She nodded. "If you can decide who you are, maybe, just maybe, you can control it."
Dozens of voices erupted again. Chaos surged. Arguments, screaming, pleading, tugging at his soul.
[Anchor Stability 11 percent. Time is nearly gone]
Erevan shut his eyes. He saw flashes of life—laughing at an office desk, running through glitch storms, absurd quips with the Duck Emperor, Codex in his hands, the girl's face, warmth in her voice.
He opened his eyes.
"I won't merge. I won't reject. And I won't choose one fragment over another."
The girl's eyes widened. The void trembled violently.
[Invalid Response. Option D Created: Hybrid Override. Definition: Assimilate Without Erasure. Anchor = Glitched Convergence. Probability of Stability: Undefined]
Erevan grinned through the searing pain. "Glitched convergence, huh? Sounds like me."
The Core pulsed brighter. Fragments screamed, some resisting, some clawing toward him, some begging for release.
The girl reached out, eyes wet.
"Don't lose yourself."
He grasped her hand and slammed the Codex shut.
Light exploded.
The explosion of light burned and bled across his vision, yet through it all, he felt every fragment of himself pulling, clawing, screaming for recognition. It wasn't pain exactly—it was living. Alive, desperate, chaotic, and entirely his.
The fragments circled him, tugging him in every direction. The teenager's trembling fear scraped against his nerves, the lab coat's careful calculations gnawed at his logic, and the swordsman's sharp pride throbbed like a drum in his chest. They were him, all of them, and all of them wanted to survive.
The Codex vibrated violently in his hands. Pages fluttered like wings caught in a storm. Glyphs glowed, reshaped themselves, and yet somehow responded to him—his will threading through them, fragile but insistent.
[Hybrid Override Sequence Active]
[Anchor Stability Recalibrating]
He gasped, struggling to breathe. Every heartbeat felt like a hammer against his ribs. Every pulse of the Core threatened to scatter his mind further, but beneath it all, he felt a tether. Her presence.
The girl's hand in his was a lifeline. The chaos around him still screamed, but her gaze cut through it. Sharp, steady, patient. Real. Human.
"You're not alone," she whispered, voice soft but certain. "Not yet. Not while you remember who you are."
Erevan's chest heaved. He wanted to scream, to beg, to fight, to pull the fragments apart, but something inside told him to wait, to breathe, to feel.
"Which part…which part do I keep?" he rasped, voice breaking under the weight of a thousand selves.
"You don't choose just one," she said. "You choose to be all of yourself. Together. Not erased, not rejected. Converged."
The fragments surged again, arguing, shouting, clawing toward him, desperate for identity.
The swordsman spat. "You can't save us all. Pick strength or die."
The teenager whimpered. "I just want to live…somewhere normal, somewhere simple."
The lab coat muttered, teeth grinding. "You don't get luxury in experiments. You survive or you fail."
Erevan's hands shook. The Codex glowed white-hot. Pages tore themselves apart and reformed in midair. Glyphs shimmered like fire, then ice, then fire again.
He clenched his teeth. I am me. I am me. I am all of me.
The Core pulsed violently, sending waves of static and light through the chamber. Every fragment screamed louder. Every memory fought for dominance.
[Anchor Core Sync: 45 percent]
[Fragment Resistance Detected]
Erevan inhaled, letting the fragments flow into him—not controlling, not rejecting. Absorbing. Accepting. Feeling every shard of fear, every twitch of pride, every flicker of laughter. Every fragment had a voice. Every fragment deserved to exist.
The girl squeezed his hand, eyes bright. "It's not about controlling them. It's about letting them converge."
And he did.
The teenager's trembling became a pulse of caution that sharpened his reflexes. The lab coat's careful calculations became intuition, guiding the Codex without words. The swordsman's pride became courage, burning through every hesitation.
Light erupted from the Core, a storm of red and white, fire and static twisting together in chaotic harmony. The fragments screamed—not in protest, but in recognition, a chorus of him, all reaching toward the same center.
[Hybrid Override Progress: 73 percent]
[Glitch Effects: Active]
He could feel the fragments fusing, intertwining with him, becoming him, yet not erased, not lost. The Codex throbbed in his hands, alive, guiding the convergence, a heartbeat in the storm.
The girl's voice cut through the roar, clear and calm. "Remember who you are. Not just the Anchor. Not just the fragments. Yourself."
Erevan exhaled sharply. His hands tightened around the Codex, muscles burning, mind screaming. And then he understood.
He didn't need to choose. He didn't need to dominate. He needed to let them all exist with him.
The Core pulsed one last time, violently, then slowed, syncing with his heartbeat. The fragments' screams merged into a singular hum—a new resonance, wholly him, wholly alive.
[Hybrid Override Successful. Partial. Anchor Stability Recalibrating.]
[Glitch Effects: Stabilizing]
Erevan stumbled, nearly falling, and the girl's hand caught his. For a heartbeat, he let himself feel human—real, trembling, exhausted, but unbroken.
The Duck Emperor quacked from the corner, wings flashing, somehow absurdly heroic in the storm of energy. The clone leaned against a fragment of wall, smirking wide, impossibly alive.
"Well," the clone drawled, voice edged with amazement, "you actually did it. You're…doing it. Again."
Erevan's lungs burned. His fingers shook. The Codex glowed softly, glyphs folding themselves neatly. He let out a bitter laugh, ragged but genuine.
"Cheating…is my specialty," he rasped, voice raw. "But…reinvention? That's mine too."
The Core hovered, pulsing gently now, acknowledging him. The fragments were not gone—they were him. He was whole, fragmented yet unified, chaotic yet entirely present.
[Anchor Core Sync: 100 percent]
Erevan sank to one knee, Codex pressed to his chest. Sweat and static dripped from his skin. Around him, the Anchor Chamber hummed softly. The storm had passed. The convergence was complete.
The girl's voice lingered, a soft anchor in his mind: Don't lose yourself.
For the first time, he felt he hadn't. That despite every fracture, every scream, every chaos of identity, he had stayed himself.
The Duck Emperor hopped onto his shoulder, still sparking, still absurd. Erevan allowed himself a small, crooked smile.
"Yes," he whispered. "I think I'm still me. And yet…so much more."
The Core pulsed once more, gentle, almost content. The Anchor Chamber was alive but calm.
The Hybrid Override was no longer just an experiment. It was him.
And he was ready.
The storm inside him didn't slow—it exploded. Every fragment of himself reached for him at once, pulling, twisting, demanding recognition. His head spun. His chest ached. Every breath burned.
Yet, beneath the chaos, he felt the rhythm. The heartbeat of the Core. The Codex's pulse. The girl's steadying hand. Everything anchored him, just enough to prevent total unraveling.
He inhaled sharply, letting the fragments surge into him, letting them flow like rivers of fire and ice. The teenager's trembling fear sharpened his senses. The lab coat's precision guided his hands without thought. The swordsman's pride lent him courage that cut through panic. Every memory, every impulse, every flicker of existence became part of a new whole.
Light tore through the void. Red and white, static and fire, chaos and order fused in a dance of impossible beauty. Every pulse of the Core was a heartbeat in his chest, and every fragment's cry was a note in a symphony of identity.
[Hybrid Override Progress: 92 percent]
[Anchor Stability Recalibrating]
He gritted his teeth, muscles trembling, mind screaming in overload. This is it. This is everything.
The Codex glowed, pages spinning like wings in the storm, glyphs reshaping themselves in response to him. Every movement, every thought, every breath was a negotiation with infinity.
And then—suddenly—the screaming merged into a singular, primal resonance. The fragments weren't fighting anymore. They were him. Fully, completely, chaotically him.
The Core pulsed in perfect harmony with his heartbeat. Light softened. Static settled. The Anchor Chamber hummed, alive but calm.
[Hybrid Override Successful. Partial. Anchor Stability Recalibrating.]
[Glitch Effects: Stabilizing]
He collapsed to one knee, sweat and static dripping, lungs screaming. The Duck Emperor hopped onto his shoulder, feathers still sparking, absurd and heroic. The clone leaned on a fragment of wall, smirk wide but now edged with respect.
"Well," the clone said, voice sharper than ever, "you didn't just survive. You…remade yourself. Typical Erevan."
Erevan's fingers clutched the Codex, chest heaving. He let out a ragged laugh, the sound raw and human.
"Cheating's my specialty," he whispered. "But…reinvention? That's mine too."
The Core hovered, pulsing gently now, almost acknowledging him. Every fragment of himself was integrated, not erased, not destroyed. He was whole, a chaotic convergence that was still entirely him.
[Anchor Core Sync: 100 percent]
He sank fully to the floor, Codex resting in his lap, and allowed himself a single, long breath. The Anchor Chamber hummed quietly, glyphs floating lazily in the air. The chaos, the screaming, the fragments—they were gone, absorbed into a storm that had become him.
The girl's voice lingered softly, a thread in his mind: Don't lose yourself.
Erevan's lips curved into a small, crooked smile. "I'm still me," he whispered. "And yet…so much more."
The Duck Emperor quacked once, wings flaring, absurdly triumphant. The clone stepped aside, ducking a spark of residual energy, and gave a quiet nod.
The Core pulsed one last time, gentle, steady, almost content. Everything had settled.
[New Title Acquired: The Glitched Anchor]
[New Passive: Fragment Surge – Gain random abilities from absorbed identities during combat]
[New Passive: Stability Flux – System Points earned fluctuate unpredictably]
Erevan sank into himself for a heartbeat, letting the calm wash over him. He was fractured and whole at once, a storm and its eye. A weapon, a person, a hybrid of all he had been and all he had yet to become.
He rose slowly, Codex pressed to his chest, eyes steady. The girl stepped back, letting go of his hand, her expression bright with something he hadn't felt in a long time—hope.
"You didn't just survive," she said softly. "You changed it. You changed yourself."
Erevan exhaled. His chest still burned. His mind still reeled. But he was ready.
The Hybrid Override wasn't just an experiment anymore. It was him. Fully, completely, chaotically him.
And for the first time, he felt the possibility of control. The possibility of freedom.
The Anchor Chamber pulsed gently around him, alive with residual energy. The Codex sat quiet now, pages folded, glyphs dimmed to a steady glow.
He glanced at the clone and Duck Emperor. "Let's go," he said, voice steady despite exhaustion. "There's more to fix."
The Core pulsed one last time, a heartbeat in the void. Calm. Controlled. And for the first time, he believed he could face whatever came next.