The chamber didn't feel real. Maybe it never had. Every time Erevan blinked, it seemed to rewrite itself. One second, jagged walls bled error-text, black ink cascading down impossibly twisted surfaces like molten thoughts spilling from a cracked mind. The next, the same walls stretched upward, transforming into smooth, luminous cathedrals, their spires so impossibly high he could swear he felt the pull of gravity shift in his gut.
His chest throbbed in time with the Core. Each heartbeat sent tremors racing through his nerves, tiny arcs of static crawling beneath his skin. And with every pulse came the whispers—not outside him, not from the chamber—but from inside him. Dozens of voices tangled together. Some calm, coaxing, almost gentle. Some shrill, frantic, panicking. And some nonsensical, chattering like mad children trapped in a hall of mirrors.
The Duck Emperor flapped its wings. Golden arcs of light sliced through the shifting air, scattering sparks of pure static across the floor. Its beady, unblinking eyes were locked on him, every feather and flicker of energy radiating a single, absurdly clear message: protective. Questioning. Waiting.
Behind him, the clone of himself leaned casually against nothing—or maybe everything. The sound of its laughter rolled through the chamber, low, almost predatory, curling around the chaos like smoke. "Well? How does it feel, Anchor?"
Erevan staggered, trying to steady himself. The Codex floated obediently by his side, pages fluttering open and closed, like a heartbeat separate from his own.
"It feels…" He flexed his hands, sparks of every color—red, blue, green, black—dancing and flickering along his fingertips. "…loud."
The clone smirked, eyes glinting. "Good. You'll need the noise. Because they're coming."
The chamber groaned. The walls seemed to pulse with their own life, crawling with static. Shapes began to emerge from the bleeding error-text. Small at first—delicate spiders, crystalline legs scraping against the floor with shrill, piercing shrieks. Then larger forms snapped into being: wolves, jaws bent unnaturally, bodies flickering with broken code. Constructs resembling shattered statues stumbled forward, limbs twitching erratically with unstable energy. Every inch of the room hummed with raw, unfiltered threat.
Erevan clenched his jaw. "Of course it's never easy."
The Duck Emperor quacked sharply, wings blazing as it launched itself at the nearest spider. Sparks and shards flew in every direction, glittering like fireworks over a battlefield. Its loyalty was absurd, and yet, somehow, effective.
Erevan gripped the Codex, feeling the fragments stir within him like a storm rising. Voices jockeyed for attention, whispering strategies, cackling with glee. The system reacted automatically:
Fragment Surge Activated
Randomized Ability: Phantom Rewind – Briefly undo the last two seconds of personal time
A spider lunged at his shoulder. Pain exploded—then vanished. Reality snapped backward, cruel and precise. He staggered, gasping, a ragged laugh escaping him. "Oh… that's broken."
The Codex pulsed violently. System Points surged upward.
Erevan yanked it open, glyphs spiraling from the pages, wrapping the spider mid-leap and compressing it into a cube of static. He kicked it aside effortlessly. Wolves charged, but the fragments inside him hummed with anticipation, memories and instincts merging with his own, syncing in a maddening, exhilarating harmony.
The clone strolled lazily behind him, hands in pockets, unbothered by the carnage. "They'll keep coming. That's what Guardians do. Endless, relentless, until you break."
Erevan spat a small spark of static from his mouth and grinned, defiance flaring in his chest. "Then I'll collapse them first."
The waves kept coming. Wolves lunged, crystalline spiders leapt from the walls, and hybrids—fractured amalgamations of beast and broken code—emerged from every shadow. The chamber had become a storm, a living nightmare painted in sparks, static, and erratic light.
Erevan's hands flared again. Fragment Surge Activated
Randomized Ability: Echo Arsenal – Conjure a weapon used by another identity fragment
A weapon formed in his grip—a sleek, impossible rifle, polished and humming with contained energy. His body didn't hesitate. Instinctively, he knew how to hold it, aim it, fire. Memory fragments surged within him, whispering instructions faster than he could consciously process.
A wolf leapt at him, teeth glinting like shards of broken data. He squeezed the trigger. The shot wasn't a bullet—it was raw code, compressed and lethal, ripping through the creature and evaporating it into nothing. He staggered back, adrenaline spiking.
"Oh… I like this one," he muttered, laughter ragged, breath shallow. System Points ticked upward.
The Duck Emperor shrieked in response, wings ablaze with golden fire, charging at another wolf. Each strike was precise, feathers slicing through jagged code like a scalpel through silk. Its quacks resonated like battle cries, shattering enemies' concentration just long enough for Erevan to act.
The Codex flipped pages furiously. Codex Command: Recursive Loop
Time bent. A spider shattered into glittering cubes of static, then reassembled, only to shatter again in an endless, looping death until it collapsed into dust. Erevan let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding, a twisted smile crossing his face.
But the Guardians didn't relent. Bigger, faster, more complex waves surged forward. A spider the size of a carriage slammed down, the stone-circuit floor cracking under its weight. Its eyes glowed like corrupted lanterns, its mouth opening in a distorted chorus of error-sounds.
Warning: Guardian Elite Spawned
Threat Level: Catastrophic
The Codex quivered violently in his hands. The Core's pulse thrummed in his chest, fragments inside him screaming with anticipation, fear, and exhilaration.
Fragment Surge Activated
Randomized Ability: Chaotic Bloom – Release uncontrolled surge of glitch flora
Vines erupted from the floor, luminous and writhing, blossoming into flowers that glowed red and blue. One vine wrapped around the giant spider's leg, another slashed across its back. Each bloom exploded, bursts of raw light splintering the creature into fragments of code.
Erevan staggered backward, chest pounding. "Okay… that was… terrifying."
The clone chuckled softly, shadows flickering across its face. "You think that's terrifying? Wait until Fragment Surge decides to really make things… interesting."
The Duck Emperor shrieked, diving into the spider's core, tearing away glowing fragments with its beak. Sparks exploded across the chamber, static raining in every direction.
Erevan could feel it—the chaos thrumming in every vein, every nerve. The fragments inside him were a chorus now, overwhelming and maddening. Some whispered strategies, some screamed warnings, some laughed like children at a carnival gone wrong.
Stability Flux Activated
System Points Randomly Adjusted
"What the hell now?!" he shouted, laughter cracking around the edges of his panic. The Codex seemed alive, mocking him, daring him to push harder.
The clone's voice drifted lazily beside him. "Welcome to your new normal."
And still, the Guardians poured in. Wolves, spiders, hybrids, monstrosities, all crawling from every wall, floor crack, and ceiling crevice. Error-text rained down like shards of broken stars, static arcing through the air.
Erevan's hands glowed with raw, unstable power. Fragments of himself danced within him like sparks, colliding, merging, screaming. He grinned, sharp and wild. "Fine. Let's see how far I can push this noise."
The Codex's pages tore open, glyphs spinning into the air, alive, hungry for movement.
The Duck Emperor roared, golden light flaring across its feathers as it darted through enemies, wings cutting arcs of destruction. Its quacks punctuated every strike, perfectly synchronized with Erevan's rhythm.
Erevan dove into the chaos, powers surging. Fragments screamed and whispered, but he let them guide him instead of controlling him directly. Every move was instinctive—a swing, a blast, a step timed perfectly to the pulse of the Core. He laughed, ragged and breathless, exhilarated beyond reason.
The chamber shivered under the storm of code, light, and static. Wolves and spiders disintegrated before touching the ground. Hybrids shattered into glittering shards. Vines and glyphs erupted in overlapping, chaotic symphonies of destruction.
Erevan's pulse matched the Core's. His breath came fast, shallow, but steady. The fragments hummed, harmonizing into something dangerous, something his.
The chaos didn't stop. It bent, twisted, and swirled, feeding off itself, feeding off him. And then—he saw them.
From every corner, every ripple of glitching energy, human-shaped forms emerged. They were him. Every fragment, every version, every impossible "what if" he had ever been manifested in flesh, code, and energy. Their eyes glowed like burning coals, Codexes clutched in hands that mirrored his own. Some wielded weapons forged from fragments of reality. Others carried spells he didn't even recognize, yet somehow knew in their bones.
An army of Erevans.
Erevan's chest tightened. His heartbeat synced violently with the Anchor Core, and for a fleeting second, panic prickled at the edges of his mind. Too many fragments, too many possibilities, too many selves. But then, a strange clarity cut through. This chaos is mine.
The Duck Emperor hiss-quacked, feathers bristling, diving into the first line of mirror Erevans. Its quacks sounded like golden war cries, every strike precise, cutting down one of the reflections before it could react. Loyal. Absurd. Terrifyingly effective.
Erevan drew a ragged breath, Codex in hand, sparks of red, blue, green, violet, black dancing across his skin. The fragments inside him twisted and collided, shouting, pleading, laughing—but he silenced them with a thought. I am Erevan. All of you exist because I allow it.
He slammed the Codex open. Pages spun like rotating blades, symbols tearing through the air, striking the mirror Erevans before they could even lift a hand.
Fragment Surge Activated
Randomized Ability: Omni-Arsenal – Summon weapons and powers from multiple identity fragments simultaneously
Blades, rifles, shields, glyphs, and impossible tools of war materialized in his hands. Each movement was instinctive, preemptive. The mirror Erevans tried to copy him, to fight back, but every motion he made bent reality itself. Weapons were everywhere at once, a chaotic symphony of destruction under his command.
One Echo lunged with a glowing Codex. Erevan whipped a strand of pure light around it, yanking the figure backward. It shattered into fragments, absorbed seamlessly into his own system. Another launched glyph-shards midair; he caught them instinctively, reshaping the energy into a beam that vaporized three more at once.
The chamber trembled under each strike. Stone-circuit floors cracked, walls rippled, static danced in visible strands. The Duck Emperor streaked through the battlefield, cutting down guardians, blocking glyphs, quacking in perfect rhythm with Erevan's attacks.
Erevan laughed, ragged, sharp, thrilling. "Come on! All of you! Try me!"
Fragments shifted and merged inside him—a fire-wielding version, a marksman, a void-fighter—all lending skills, instincts, memories. He felt whole and fragmented at once, chaotic and alive.
Fragment Surge Activated
Randomized Ability: Hyper-Reflex – Predict and counter enemy actions before they happen
Time itself warped. Blades swung, spells fired, attacks arrived and vanished before they existed. Every mirror Echo, every guardian that tried to breach him, was shredded into code fragments mid-strike.
System Points ticked upward relentlessly. Stability fluctuated wildly. Each surge of power made him more dangerous, more unpredictable… more human. He wasn't overwhelmed. He had learned to dance with chaos, let it flow through him, and mold it with instinct and will.
Erevan raised the Codex high, glyphs exploding outward in a blinding cascade of light.
Codex Command: Absolute Synchronization
The fragments, the Echos, the shards of power coalesced. Not to replace him, but to answer him. Wolves, spiders, and hybrids disintegrated in seconds. Mirror Erevans lunged, but now moved as his extensions, striking their own kind to create order in the storm.
The chamber quaked. Walls rippled like liquid, light bending around raw energy. The Anchor Core pulsed in perfect sync with his heartbeat. Static danced in arcs, golden and blue, forming threads of tangible power.
The Duck Emperor roared, part quack, part war scream, diving into the largest guardian. Feathers ignited into searing golden blades. The creature shattered under the assault, dissolving into a storm of sparks.
Erevan dropped to one knee, chest heaving. Codex humming, glowing, alive in his hands. The fragments whispered, shouted, screamed—but he silenced them with a thought. I am Erevan. You exist to enhance me, not replace me.
He rose, rifle in hand, blades floating around him, glyphs orbiting like moons. "Let's finish this," he said, voice steady, human, sharp. "All of you, together. Let's see what chaos looks like under my control."
The army surged. Guardians howled. The chamber exploded in motion. Blinding energy, sharp light, shards of code, glyph-laced detonations, the Duck Emperor's golden arcs slicing through the horde—it was a symphony of destruction.
Erevan's laughter cut through the chaos, half-mad, half-exhilarated. Codex flared violently. Fragments surged in perfect, chaotic harmony. He wasn't fighting anymore. He was conducting the storm.
System points, stability, power, and chaos became one. He was the Glitched Anchor—the chaotic epicenter of every fragment, every Echo, every possibility—but still undeniably human. Undeniably Erevan.
And for the first time, the chamber felt like his.