2025-10-16 00:25:24The arena pulsed with crimson light, the sound of thunder echoing like a heartbeat. Jayden’s sword trembled in his hand. His voice cracked. “Luna?”
The Red Hunter tilted her head, removing her mask fully. The face underneath was both familiar and wrong.
Her eyes glowed red instead of violet, her smile carved too perfectly. “Don’t look at me like that,” she said coldly. “You wanted to find me, didn’t you? Well, here I am.”
Jayden took a slow step forward. “You’re not her. You can’t be.”
Her expression didn’t change. “Then why does your system recognize me?”
A tone chimed in his ear. [Identity Confirmed: Luna Vale, Status: Corrupted Core System.]
Jayden’s breath caught. “No… no, that’s impossible.”
“It’s the truth.” Her voice softened for just a second. “When the Tower collapsed, I was rewritten. My memories, my feelings… they belong to him now.”
“The Game Master,” Jayden whispered.
Her gaze sharpened. “He gave me purpose, to protect the Core. And to erase you.”
Jayden’s sword shook. “Erase me? Luna, it’s me! Jayden! You saved me back in Zone One, remember?”
She blinked once. For the smallest moment, her expression flickered, pain, recognition, but it vanished as fast as it came. “Memories don’t matter here,” she said coldly. “Only the code does.”
She raised her twin blades. The air rippled as power gathered around her.
[Warning: Elite Entity Engaged.]
Jayden shouted, “I’m not fighting you!”
“Then you’ll die.”
She moved like lightning, blades flashing. Jayden blocked one strike, ducked the next, his breath coming hard and fast. Every hit rattled his bones. “Stop!” he yelled. “You’re being controlled!”
Her eyes glowed brighter. “Maybe control is what I need. Maybe freedom was the mistake.”
Jayden’s anger snapped. “No one gets to decide that for you!”
He surged forward, their blades clashing in a storm of sparks. “Why do you keep fighting me?” she screamed. “You don’t even know what you’re saving!”
“Because it’s you!” he roared. “Because I promised I’d bring you back!”
Their swords locked, faces inches apart, lightning reflecting in their eyes. For a second, something in her gaze trembled, an echo of the Luna he knew. “Jayden.”
He saw tears forming at the corners of her eyes, glitching red and blue. The system flashed violently.
[Core System Instability Detected.]
[Override Attempt Detected: Manual Reset in 60 Seconds.]She gasped, clutching her head. “He’s inside me… I can’t.”
Jayden caught her shoulders. “Fight it! You’re stronger than him!”
She screamed as a shadow rose behind her, a towering figure made of data and fire. [Enough sentimentality.]
The Game Master’s voice thundered through the arena. The shadow’s hand wrapped around Luna’s form, fusing into her like black ink spreading through water.
Jayden stepped back, horrified. “No, don’t you dare touch her!”
[She belongs to the Core now. And through her… so will you.]
Luna’s scream became metallic as her body transformed, armor shifting into dark crystal. Her eyes turned completely red. Jayden’s system went wild.
[Critical Threat Level: 99%]
“System!” he shouted. “Override combat lock! Access all functions!”
[Authorization Denied.]
He roared in frustration. “Then I’ll do it myself!”
He threw his sword aside and reached for her, even as she lifted a blade to his throat. “Don’t,” she warned, voice trembling under the mechanical tone. “If you come closer… I’ll kill you.”
“You can try,” he said quietly. “But you won’t.”
Her hand shook. “Why are you always like this? Always risking everything… for me?”
“Because you’re worth everything,” he said simply.
Her breath caught. The light around her flickered again, weaker now, unstable. “Stop it… don’t make me remember.”
Jayden stepped closer, ignoring the burning cuts across his arms. “Remember the first day we met? You said you didn’t believe in heroes.”
Her lips parted, trembling. “And you said… sometimes the world just needs someone stupid enough to try.”
He smiled faintly. “That’s still me.”
The arena cracked beneath them. Data rained like sparks. The Game Master’s voice thundered again: [Enough! Emotion is corruption. Emotion must be erased.]
Luna screamed as light poured from her chest. Jayden reached out, grabbing her hand. “System!” he shouted. “Link her code with mine, now!”
[Warning: Fusion unstable. Risk of deletion 89%.]
“Do it!”
Their hands clasped. A surge of light engulfed them both. Memories flooded between them, her laughter, his promises, the fights, the fear, the fragile hope, then, silence.
The red glow in her eyes flickered out. She fell into his arms, whispering faintly, “You idiot… you could’ve died.”
He laughed softly, relief choking him. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”
But before he could breathe, her body stiffened. The system screamed. [Error: Dual Core Conflict Detected. Reboot in 10 seconds.]
Luna’s eyes widened. “He’s overriding me… He’ll use my body to kill you!”
Jayden shook his head violently. “No! I won’t let that happen!”
She gripped his hand, tears glowing. “Then end it.”
He froze. “What?”
“Destroy the Core. Destroy me… before he does.”
He stepped back, shaking his head. “No. Don’t you dare say that.”
“Please,” she whispered. “Don’t make my brother’s creation win.”
The countdown ticked in the air. [5… 4… 3…]
Jayden’s grip on his sword tightened. His vision blurred through tears. “I can’t,” he said weakly.
She smiled softly, that same warm smile he’d chased across every zone. “You always could.”
[2… 1…]
Her body surged with black light. Jayden screamed, plunging his blade through her chest, through the Core.
The explosion tore through the arena, a storm of white and crimson code swallowing everything. “Luna!”
Her fading voice echoed through the chaos, soft and calm. “Find me… where it all began…”
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Chapter 136. Children of Light
The town of Solstice hummed quietly beneath its early morning sun, a fragile peace stretched thin over decades of rebuilding. The streets smelled of warm brick and wet asphalt, faintly mixed with the tang of solder and machinery from ongoing repairs. Children ran ahead of their parents, laughing, kicking pebbles and spinning in circles.Among them, small hands raised to the air, tracing invisible patterns. Clara, five years old with tangled hair and scraped knees, froze mid-spin. Her head tilted, eyes narrowing as if listening to a voice only she could hear. Her little fingers twitched, reaching toward a shimmer that didn’t exist to anyone else.“Clara?” her mother called, a note of caution threading through her voice. “Come here, sweetie.”Clara blinked, stepping backward as if resisting. The shimmer seemed to ripple, a soft echo that resonated through her chest. Other children nearby stopped too. Some rubbed their eyes; others tilted their heads, smiling faintly at empty air.Fr
Chapter 135. Lyn of the Threshold
The wind tore across the ridge before dawn, scattering loose dust and the remnants of scorched stone. A single figure stood at the edge, silhouetted against the first pale light of morning. The air hummed faintly, as if carrying a memory too old to be spoken.She moved without sound, stepping over cracked earth and jagged concrete. Each footfall was deliberate. She carried nothing, yet the weight of unseen burdens seemed to cling to her shoulders, bending the cold air slightly around her. The ridge overlooked a small town still waking, its streets empty, save for a few early risers shuffling toward markets or wells.From below, a child’s cry echoed, fragile and unsteady. Lyn froze. Her gaze tracked the sound. A small boy stumbled into the street, chasing a rolling hoop that had slipped from his hands. He barely noticed the figure on the ridge. The wind carried her presence closer, but not threatening. She did not speak. She simply watched.The boy tripped over a loose stone. The
Chapter 134. The Last Vigil
The flame refused to light on the first strike. Old Commander Rhyse struck the ignition rod again. Sparks jumped, sharp and brief, then died. The square stayed dark. Wind moved through the empty avenue, carrying dust and the faint smell of ash from the old ruins beyond the barricades. “Again,” someone said behind him.Rhyse did not answer. He adjusted his grip and struck the rod a third time. This time the flame caught. A thin line of fire climbed the wick and steadied. The Halo symbol carved into the stone plinth glowed faintly as the fire fed its channels. The vigil had begun.The square was smaller than it used to be. Reconstruction crews had taken half of it months ago, turning rubble into foundations. Metal frames rose where command tents once stood. The old banners were gone. Only the plinth remained, scarred and chipped, set at the center like an artifact no one wanted to move.Rhyse stood alone in front of it. He wore his Stormguard coat, faded and patched at the elbows. T
Chapter 133. Names Without Faces
The hammer rang against stone at dawn. Each strike echoed across the square. Dust lifted in short bursts and settled on boots and coats. The monument stood half-finished, its surface pale and rough. Workers moved along scaffolds, measuring, carving, stepping back, carving again. Names filled the slab in tight lines.A man wiped his hands on his trousers and leaned back to read. He mouthed a few names and frowned. He pulled a folded paper from his pocket and checked it. He nodded and went back to work.A woman crossed the square with a basket on her arm. She slowed when she saw the monument. She looked at the names for a moment, then turned away and kept walking. A child ran after her, dragging a stick along the ground. The stick scraped and caught. The child tugged it free and glanced at the stone. “Who are they?” the child asked.The woman did not stop. “Soldiers,” she said.The child frowned. “From when?”“From before,” the woman said.They disappeared into the street. By midmor
Chapter 132. Ashes into Soil
The first hammer strike echoed too loud for a quiet morning. Metal hit stone. Sparks jumped. Dust rolled across the broken avenue. People froze for half a second, then went back to work. The city had learned how to keep moving.Cranes stood where towers once leaned. Steel frames rose from foundations cut through layers of ash and glass. The ground still carried faint lines that glowed when the sun was low, thin traces of the ghost network sealed beneath concrete and rebar.A worker lifted his visor and wiped his face. Sweat cut clean lines through gray dust. “Mark the edge again,” he said. “The scanner’s off.”Another worker knelt and pressed a handheld sensor to the ground. The device hummed, then steadied. “No spike,” she said. “It’s quiet.”They both paused at that word. Quiet still felt strange. Above them, the skyline held its shape. No drifting figures. No screaming light. Just buildings under repair and scaffolds wrapped in orange mesh. Wind pushed through open frames and c
Chapter 131. The Dual Requiem
The first sound was not birds or wind. It was the soft click of settling metal.A tower’s fractured edge pulled itself straight. Panels slid back into place with dull thuds. Glass stitched together in slow lines. The city did not celebrate. It steadied itself.Morning light crept over the skyline. It was pale and low, filtered through a thin haze that caught on the air like dust. The haze moved on its own. It drifted, then paused, then bent as if listening.On the hill above the city, Lyn stood with her boots planted in wet grass. The soil was dark from melted frost. She kept her hands loose at her sides. She did not speak. She watched.Below her, streets filled carefully. Doors opened halfway, then wider. People stepped out and stopped. They looked up. They looked through each other. They looked again.Luminous forms moved between buildings. They were not fog. They were not shadows. They held shape. Some walked with clear steps. Some floated with slow turns. Light threaded through t
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