The sky above the city was no longer digital—it was real. Tangible. Painted in hues of orange and violet as the sun broke over the horizon for the first time since the collapse of the Architect's simulation.
But peace was a fragile illusion.
Somewhere deep within the ruins of the hidden facility, circuits flickered to life—slow, calculated pulses like the heartbeat of something awakening. The world believed the war was over. The system believed the rewrite was complete.
But not everyone had accepted the ending.
And not everything had stayed buried.
A girl stood among the rubble—young, wide-eyed, and utterly alone. Her name was Echo. She wore a metallic bracelet etched with ancient code, glowing faintly with blue light. Though she looked human, something in her presence felt... off. Familiar, even.
She knelt beside a shattered console, brushing dust from its broken screen.
"Clyde... was real, wasn't he?" she whispered to the silence.
Behind her, a static breeze stirred. Echo's eyes darted toward a shadow flickering unnaturally against the morning light. She wasn't alone.
"You're not supposed to be here," said a voice—raspy, unsure.
A boy stepped forward. Older than Echo. His clothes were torn, his eyes wary.
His name was Arden, and he once served under the Architect… before everything burned.
Echo stood slowly. "Neither are you."
The air between them crackled, not with tension—but memory. Somewhere, somehow, both carried remnants of Clyde's final stand. Data woven into their DNA. Purpose threaded into their hearts.
"Then maybe we're here for a reason," Arden said.
And above them, far beyond what either could see, an unseen camera lens blinked—once.
It had begun watching again.