The purge began in silence.
No war cry. No warning. Just a surge of corrupted shadows, moving like spilled ink across the fractured land, their limbs stretching in unnatural angles, mouths twitching with static screams.
Clyde stood firm, each breath slower, heavier, but deliberate. Rhea was beside him, blades drawn—not made of metal, but of hardened light, forged from the remnants of old code she salvaged in secret.
"You sure about this?" she asked, not looking at him.
"No," Clyde replied with a faint grin. "But I'd rather disappear fighting than exist as a lie."
The first wave hit.
Clyde ducked low, sweeping his leg across the glitch-beast's jagged ankles, watching it shatter into shards of red data. Another lunged, but Rhea was faster—her blade slicing through the creature like slicing through silk.
More came.
Dozens.
Hundreds.
Every time they fell, the sky above groaned, trembling like it was holding back tears. The Architect watched from the distance, hands clasped behind his back, like a disappointed teacher watching his students fail the final test.
"You're delaying the inevitable," he called out.
Clyde didn't answer. Not with words.
He launched himself into the fray, fists cracking through code and illusion alike. Each strike brought back something—flashes of memories erased, rewritten, buried. His sister's laugh. The old bike ride at dusk. A promise made under fake stars. He wasn't just fighting the enemy.
He was fighting to exist.
Rhea moved like a storm beside him—quick, precise, furious. Together, they weren't just survivors. They were proof that even broken things could still stand tall.
Then, a burst of white light.
A figure emerged from the ripples of collapsing space—a young girl. Pale eyes. A soft hum surrounding her like wind chimes in a forgotten dream.
Clyde froze.
"...Nova?" he breathed.
The Architect narrowed his eyes. "She is not yours to remember."
But Clyde was already running.
The girl reached out. Her small fingers trembled as she touched his chest.
A pulse.
Suddenly, the world stilled.
Every glitch froze.
Every sound faded.
Nova's voice, soft as dust, echoed: "You broke through the system. That means... you're the variable. The one he couldn't predict."
Clyde's eyes burned.
And for the first time, the Architect stepped back.