Silence fell over the remnants of the battlefield.
Clyde stood in the center of the now-purged system core—its chaotic storm of data had settled into a serene, glowing sphere suspended in the void. The Original Rewrite stood before him, her gaze unreadable.
"You have two options," she said. "Rebuild the world in your image… or end it all. No more reboots. No more cycles."
Nova limped beside him, clutching her side, bruised but alive. "This is your call, Clyde. We didn't come this far for someone else to choose for us."
Rhea placed a hand on his shoulder, eyes firm. "Whatever you decide… we'll face it together."
The Original tilted her head. "But understand: rewriting reality means you become the Architect. Keeper. Prisoner. God."
Clyde looked at his hands—once trembling with fear, now steady with resolve. "All I ever wanted was to know the truth. Not to be a god… but to be free."
The sphere pulsed, waiting.
He took a deep breath.
Then, he reached toward it.
FLASH—
Visions exploded in his mind. Alternate timelines. Echoes of every Clyde that ever lived. In one, he was a villain. In another, he was never born. One version screamed endlessly in a loop. One was alone.
But in one…
He saw peace.
Friends. A sunrise. Laughter.
Clyde opened his eyes.
"I'm not choosing to rewrite. I'm choosing to restore. The world doesn't need gods. It needs freedom."
He plunged his hand into the sphere.
Reality buckled.
Light surged outward, cleansing every corrupted line of code. The chamber began to collapse—but not in destruction. It was rebirth. A new sequence began, not written by the Architect… but by human will.
The Original stepped back, smiling softly for the first time. "Then… the cycle ends here."
Everything went white.