Rain poured in code-shaped droplets, each splash on the ground leaving behind symbols that flickered before fading. The city was quieter now, as though it too held its breath.
Isaiah had returned to the datawell alone. No sign of the masked enforcers. No sign of Unit-731. Only echoes.
He held in his palm the corrupted drive—the one pulled from the spine of the silent body in Chapter 7. His fingers trembled as he connected it to the abandoned interface. The screen blinked once, then again.
> "Welcome, Child of Reversal. The Terminal sees you."
A thousand lines of binary streamed across the screen, rearranging into words that spoke directly to him. Isaiah's breath hitched.
> "There is no healing without destruction."
His father had once told him that phrase. But his father died during the Infodrain Riots. Or so he believed.
A new screen flickered on.
> Subject: Isaiah Omeke. Inheritance pending.
Warning: The code in your blood is not from this world.
"What do you mean?" Isaiah whispered, as if the machine could hear him.
But it could.
> We have seen your threads across timelines. You are not one. You are a composite of many. Broken code stitched into flesh.
His mind began to twist. He stumbled back from the screen as the room's walls began shifting, digital panels forming grotesque human faces that whispered in sync:
> "Cleanse or collapse. Choose."
A pain seared through Isaiah's skull. His memories weren't his. His nightmares weren't dreams. They were encrypted echoes of a parallel life—where he had once been a god… and a destroyer.
His shadow flickered—splitting for a second into three separate outlines. One looked like him. One like a stranger. The third wore no face at all.
He screamed.
---
Far away, the woman in the white coat watched the readings spike.
"Begin phase two," she said into her headset. "The Healer is cracking."
The man beside her, eyes replaced with fiberoptic wires, nodded. "We've unlocked the God Terminal. He'll remember everything soon."