The path to the Core Archive was buried beneath the remnants of a forgotten city—one that seemed suspended in a limbo between code and concrete. Buildings blinked in and out of existence, roads shifted like puzzle pieces, and shadows moved even without light.
Clyde and the woman, now finally introducing herself as Rhea, traversed this broken landscape in silence, their eyes constantly scanning for anomalies.
"You said they modeled the rewrite around me," Clyde broke the silence. "What does that mean?"
Rhea hesitated before answering. "You weren't just another test subject. You were the prototype. The first conscious vessel."
Clyde blinked. "What, like... a blueprint?"
"Yes," she said, glancing at him. "They built the framework of Legacy Rewrite using fragments of your psyche. Emotions, memories, decision patterns. Every rewrite cycle—every failed subject—was meant to test a different version of you."
Clyde felt a pit form in his stomach. "So those… other versions of me…"
"They're not just doppelgängers. They're echoes. Glitched reflections that couldn't survive the reset."
Suddenly, the ground beneath them pulsed with light. Lines of glowing data formed a circular platform beneath their feet, and from the shifting mist ahead, a structure emerged.
The Archive.
It wasn't a building in the traditional sense. It was a tower of light and shadow, suspended in the air, rotating slowly, like a digital monolith. Runes danced along its surface, encrypted and alive.
"We're here," Rhea whispered. "But if we're accessing it… we won't be alone."
Clyde stepped forward, every part of him screaming that this was a trap—and yet, something deeper urged him on.
They entered the tower.
Inside, silence ruled.
Rows upon rows of floating data tablets surrounded them. Memory fragments flickered—flashes of experiments, screams, rewrites gone wrong. Clyde touched one, and an image appeared: a child in a white room, eyes closed, surrounded by holographic figures.
Him.
"You were engineered to adapt. But they pushed too far," Rhea murmured.
A sudden tremor shook the Archive. Lights dimmed. From the darkness above, something began descending—slow, steady, humming with raw power.
Another Clyde.
But different.
His eyes glowed with burning white code. His form was solid, perfected. No glitches.
"I am the finalized build," it said in a voice that echoed through the chamber. "And your existence… is a flaw."
Clyde took a step forward, fists clenched. "Then let's see what a flaw can do."