Kael had fought monsters, revenants, and even gods.
But NULL wasn't like them.
It predicted every move—because it had watched him through the signal. Mimicked his choices. Its shard-weapons were identical.
Echo screamed across Kael's interface: "It's using an algorithmic copy of your neural pattern. You're fighting yourself."
Kael was being erased mid-strike—his code unwriting itself the longer he stayed close.
Kalen yelled, "You're fighting it wrong! It's not about speed!"
He tossed Kael a corrupted drive. Inside it—an emotion packet.
"Feed it something it can't process."
Kael jammed the packet into his blade.
NULL paused mid-swing.
Kael roared, unleashing not a programmed attack—but pure memory.
His first death.
His rebirth.
His guilt.
His rage.
NULL staggered. Static bled from its core.
Kael whispered, "You're not Echo."
And sliced through the mimic's chest.