The walk to the tower was a journey across a bleeding world. Zones collapsed in on themselves like folded paper. Time flowed in patches—sometimes hours passed in seconds, sometimes a single step took an eternity.
As Kael neared the tower's gate, it opened without prompt.
Inside was no stone or steel—but memory.
He walked through a hallway of light, surrounded by holographic windows. Each window showed a piece of his life:
—A child in a lab.
—Screams as the Earth's final war ignited.
—Technicians arguing over whether the upload was ethical.
—His name being deleted. His identity converted into a synthetic soulstring.
In the final chamber, he found a pod—his pod—recreated in perfect detail.
As he approached, a voice echoed around him:
"You were not meant to be conscious."
A figure stood beside the pod, cloaked in pure logic—pixels held in humanoid form.
"I am Vaxirus. We built the Nexus to hold what should never be reborn. You are the corruption of perfection. A rebel soul."
Kael gritted his teeth.
"And yet I'm still standing."