The final hatch opened not onto a bridge of consoles and view-screens, but into a sanctum.
It was a vast, spherical chamber at the very pinnacle of the Abyssal Heart. The walls were a transparent bio-crystal, offering a panoramic, terrifying view of the Corrupted armada swarming like locusts against the star-flecked void of the Shattered Expanse. In the distance, the first glittering lights of the Ordered fleet were just appearing.
At the chamber's center, on a raised dais of fused bone and neural tissue, stood Admiral Nox.
He was Nightmare-Class, and it showed. He stood three meters tall, his form an elegant, terrifying fusion of ancient battle-armor and living Corrupted anatomy. One arm ended in a blade of solidified void, the other in a cluster of manipulator tendrils. His face was handsome, almost regal, but his eyes were supernovae of cold, intelligent violet light. A cloak of shifting shadow billowed behind him, connected to the very walls of the sanctum. He was the ship.
Before him, floating in a stasis field, was the Soul-Scrambler Charge.
"I had it brought here," Nox said, his voice a deep, calm vibration that resonated in their chests. "A waste of good soldiers, sending them to die retrieving it from you. It is, after all, the reason you are here."
He hadn't turned around. He was watching the armada.
"You are punctual. The Ordered fleet is right on schedule. Predictable." He finally turned. His gaze swept over them, lingering on Echo. "The Hemophage Sovereign. And his… collection. I have studied your battle data from Mycelia Prime and Kaleidos. You fight with a passion Order has forgotten. It is admirable."
"We're here to stop you," Echo said, his blade igniting with a snap-hiss.
"Stop me?" Nox chuckled, a sound like grinding planets. "You misunderstand. You are not here to stop the attack on Astra Prime. That is merely the backdrop. You are here for my evaluation."
He stepped down from the dais. The air thickened with pressure. "The Legion consumes. But mindless consumption leads to stagnation. We must evolve. To do that, we need new templates. New blood." His eyes burned into Echo. "Your bloodline is a unique mutation—a force of Order that operates on a primal, biological level we lack. I wish to acquire it."
"You can't corrupt me," Echo snarled.
"Corruption?" Nox waved a dismissive tendril. "A crude tool. I seek integration. Your body, your power, your bonds—perfected and made eternal within the Legion. You will be the blueprint for a new generation of Corrupted: ones who can command life as well as consume it."
He gestured, and the walls of the sanctum shimmered. Five figures stepped from the shadows. They were not Corrupted.
They were Echo, Leyla, Mira, and Ryn.
Perfect, silent copies. Replicants made of shimmering, viscous biomatter.
"My latest prototypes," Nox said. "Programmed with all your observed combat data. Defeat them, and you prove your worthiness to be the template. Fall to them… and your essence will be extracted from your broken bodies all the same."
The replicant Echo smiled, a hollow mockery. Its eyes glowed solid crimson.
The real Echo looked at his team, seeing his own determination mirrored in their eyes. They were outnumbered, deep in the belly of the beast, facing a Nightmare-Class entity and copies of themselves.
There was only one path.
"Fight as one," he said, the bond surging between them, a constellation of trust and power. "And show him what he can never copy."
The replicants charged.