Time had stopped. And I don't mean it in some poetic, metaphorical way. I mean literally stopped.
Kaelith's arrow hung in mid-air, feathers trembling as if caught in some invisible wind that had forgotten how to blow. Sir Quacksalot hovered mid-quack, his beak frozen, a tiny droplet of spittle suspended in perfect defiance of gravity. Even the Purge Host, threads taut and poised, seemed to hesitate, caught in the pause that had swallowed the universe whole.
Everything had stopped. Everything. Except me.
The system's choices hovered before my eyes like a challenge carved in neon light:
[Submit. Be taken. Discover the truth.]
[Resist. Risk deletion.]
They radiated pressure—oppressive, suffocating, a weight that pressed into my chest and made my muscles twitch as if some invisible current had grabbed hold of my bones.
I opened my mouth, but the words that came out weren't words. They were jagged, fractured, alien shards of sound that didn't feel like mine.
"Submit… resist… is that all?" I muttered, forcing a laugh that cracked like broken glass in the frozen air. "Come on, GlitchOS… you know me. I don't play by menus."
The shard in my chest throbbed violently. Heat radiated outward like molten metal burning through every nerve ending—but it wasn't just heat. It was idea, pure, clawing thought, whispering possibilities the system wasn't even designed to comprehend.
And then, as if in answer, the system sputtered.
[Error: Anomaly refusing binary choice.]
[Recalculating…]
[Warning: Unauthorized Path creation in progress.]
My stomach dropped. The Watcher's colossal eye narrowed above, its iris spiraling like a black hole, pressing down on me with a weight that felt like it could collapse the very synapses of my mind. Curiosity. Malice. Something darker. All folded into that gaze.
"Damn right I push back," I growled, fists clenching until my knuckles whitened. "If you're gonna treat me like a bug… then watch me crash your whole operating system."
And then… a new option blinked into existence, floating there like some cruel afterthought.
[New Option Unlocked: Choice C – Rewrite. Forge a path outside the system.]
My breath caught. "…What the hell does that mean?"
The shard answered. My vision fractured into three separate screens, each one vibrating with its own discordant rhythm:
One showed me chained, dragged helplessly toward the endless eye, Kaelith screaming my name, Sir Quacksalot snapping futilely at threads of broken light.
Another showed me resisting, every molecule of my body shredded frame by frame into static until nothing remained but silence.
The third… was blank. Void. Empty. White.
A hiss rattled inside my skull, sharp as steam escaping a broken boiler.
[Warning: Path instability – 99.97% failure.]
[Proceeding may result in… undefined outcome.]
Kaelith's frozen face hovered in my vision. Eyes wide, lips parted, calling my name across a rift I couldn't touch. I wanted to reach for her, but my hand passed through like smoke.
Sir Quacksalot, ever the ridiculous little anchor, glitched. His frozen quack shivered, one tiny eye flicking toward me. For a single, impossible heartbeat, it blinked.
I laughed. Hoarse. Wild. "…Figures. The duck knows better than all of you."
Without hesitation, I slammed Choice C.
The world exploded.
Frozen air shattered like glass under the strike of a hammer. Kaelith gasped mid-breath, stumbling back, arrows scattering uselessly to the fractured ground. Sir Quacksalot quacked again, snapping through yet another binding thread with teeth that shouldn't even exist. The Purge Host staggered, its woven light unraveling, symbols flickering in panic as though reality itself had betrayed it.
And somewhere deep inside… the system screamed:
[Error: User has created unauthorized path.]
[Emergency rollback initiated—]
"No." My voice was low, raw, a growl that vibrated through my chest. I gripped the threads still coiled around me. Pixels peeled from my skin. Bones hummed with static. Yet my resolve burned hotter than the corruption surrounding us.
"You don't roll me back," I snarled. "I roll you."
I yanked at the threads with everything I had. They didn't snap. They rewrote, transforming into barbed strands of glitching light, sparking with raw data fire. The Purge Host screamed—not a sound, not in any normal sense—but a scream of pure corrupt code, glitching as it tried desperately to parse what had just happened.
The world didn't just restart. It shivered, like reality had taken a deep, shuddering breath, uncertain if it even wanted to continue. Shards of frozen air fell like splintered glass around me, reflecting the chaos in fragmented, broken light.
I could feel it—the shard pulsing inside me, alive, impatient, like it was laughing at the system's rules while I held it in my chest. My hands burned, fingertips splitting into jagged afterimages before snapping back. Every nerve screamed. Every heartbeat pounded like a drum of war.
I grinned through the pain, blood trickling from my ears and mouth. "Well," I muttered, voice hoarse, "looks like I just upgraded from glitch to admin."
Threads of corrupted code surged toward me from the beyond-Watcher rift, snapping, lashing, trying to bind, erase, delete. I didn't flinch. I didn't dodge. I rewrote.
The shard flared. A pulse of jagged, chaotic energy erupted from my chest. My hands moved instinctively, tearing at the lances of corrupted light. The threads shattered mid-air, each fragment exploding in cascades of raw digital fire.
Pathbreaker activated.
Time stuttered. The ground quaked beneath my feet. Fragments of the Purge Host's remains lifted, orbiting around me like shattered satellites caught between existence and void. The Purge Host screamed—not in sound, but in corrupted pulses of failing code. It faltered. Its woven light tangled on itself, struggling to comprehend the impossible.
Kaelith stumbled back, eyes wide as she tried to comprehend what she was witnessing. "Erevan… you're… you're rewriting it. Not just fighting… you're rewriting it!"
I laughed, ragged, wild. "Yeah. Don't worry. Still me… mostly."
Sir Quacksalot hopped atop one of the floating shards, quacking like some tiny, absurd king surveying his conquered realm. Somehow, in all this chaos, that little duck remained my constant. And I… I had just become its god.
From the beyond-Watcher rift, the impossible forms paused, hesitate flickering across jagged patterns of static light. Threads of corrupted energy twitched, recalculating, as if the universe itself was blinking, unsure how to process what I'd just done.
I flexed my fingers. Pixels cascaded off them in glittering streams, like fireflies caught in a storm. Every motion I made was a command. Every glance, a rewrite.
The system's whisper was softer now, almost hesitant:
[Pathbreaker… cannot be allowed.]
[Countermeasures initiating.]
I smirked, blood dripping from my lips. "Bring it on," I muttered. "I'll break every path you throw at me."
The beyond-Watcher entities lunged, cascading threads snapping toward me like jagged whips of corrupted reality. I didn't dodge. I didn't attack. I commanded.
Each swing of my arm tore apart the threads, disintegrating them into harmless shards of failing code. A single gesture annihilated a jagged entity entirely, its fragments blinking out in high-pitched digital screams that I could feel rattling the back of my skull.
Kaelith gaped. "Erevan… you're… erasing them! Not just surviving—they're gone!"
I smirked again. "Told you. I don't do normal."
Sir Quacksalot quacked, puffed up, triumphant, as if he'd been waiting for this moment all along.
Above, the rift pulsed again. Voices whispered, layered, human, alien, and distinctly not part of the system:
"…Containment failure… impossible anomaly… must escalate…"
"…Do not engage directly. Observe. Adapt… wait—did it just—?"
I blinked, letting my gaze sweep the fractured sky. "Well, hello there," I said, raising a bloodied hand toward the rip. "Welcome to my nightmare."
The shard throbbed violently, energy coursing through me like molten steel in my veins. My right eye glowed with the same symbols that had once marked the Purge Host. Pixels flickered across my skin, separating and snapping back, as if even my body was learning to bend the rules I now commanded.
Kaelith grabbed me by the shoulders, voice trembling. "Erevan… do you understand what you're doing? Every second you push… you're tearing through layers of the system it took eons to construct!"
I grinned, sharp, almost feral. "Layers? Ha! Layers are for cakes, Kaelith. Not me."
A flick of my hand shattered the threads lashing at me. Every entity, every corrupted fragment, every pulse of beyond-Watcher light bent to my will. I wasn't destroying them—I was rewriting reality itself, bending corrupted code to follow my command.
Sir Quacksalot quacked, indignantly proud. I laughed. "Yeah, yeah, you're my little co-admin, buddy. Don't get used to it."
Above, the rift pulsed once more, threads hesitated. Even the beyond-Watcher entities paused. Perhaps for the first time in countless cycles, they were calculating… uncertain… maybe even afraid.
And I realized, standing amidst shattered reality, blood and glitching symbols streaking my skin, that I wasn't just surviving anymore. I was bending the rules.
The sky above had become a living fracture, a jagged wound leaking impossible light and whispers of broken code. Shadows of the beyond-Watcher entities shimmered, twisted fragments of corrupted reality dancing like marionettes with broken strings. Every step I took felt heavier, yet somehow freer, as though I were walking both inside and outside the rules at the same time.
Kaelith's hand stayed locked on my shoulder, her eyes wide and trembling, reflecting the chaos above. "Erevan… it's… it's beyond comprehension," she whispered. "You're… you're not just surviving—you're rewriting existence."
I laughed, dry, ragged, but tinged with that reckless spark only chaos could inspire. "Yeah," I said, blood dripping from my lips and ears, "I'm not just surviving. I'm… improvising."
Sir Quacksalot flapped along a floating shard, quacking furiously. Somehow, even he had adapted to this fractured reality. I smirked. "See, Kaelith? Even the duck gets it. Admin privileges, baby."
The beyond-Watcher entities swirled around me, threads snapping, reforming, hesitating with every pulse of energy radiating from the shard. They weren't attacking—not directly. They were observing, calculating, waiting for me to falter.
I flexed my fingers, and the air itself split like broken code. Pixels streamed off my skin in sparkling cascades, merging and twisting into shapes that had no right to exist. Every heartbeat, every twitch of muscle, every breath I drew was rewriting the rules of this corrupted system.
A thread lashed at me. I didn't dodge. I reached out, and it shattered before it even touched me. Another tried, and I bent it into a new shape—a thin ribbon of raw light, coiling harmlessly around my wrist. The entities above recoiled, uncertainty rippling through their fractured forms.
Kaelith's jaw dropped, a gasp escaping her lips. "Erevan… you're… you're bending them to your will! You're not fighting… you're controlling!"
I smirked, letting the shard pulse in time with my heartbeat. "Yeah… let's call it… user privileges."
Sir Quacksalot, my tiny, absurd anchor in this storm, waddled up to my shoulder, feathers ruffling, eyes gleaming. Even in all this chaos, he was still… consistent. And I needed that.
The beyond-Watcher rift pulsed again, jagged threads quivering as if reality itself was holding its breath. Whispers layered upon whispers reached my mind, voices unshaped, alien yet terrifyingly human:
"…Containment failure… anomaly escalating beyond parameters…"
"…Does the system even understand what's happening?… recalibrating… wait—did it just—?"
I tilted my head, grinning despite the blood and glitching pixels streaking my skin. "Well, hello there," I said, voice raw, sharp, dangerous. "Welcome to my nightmare."
The shard pulsed violently in my chest, heat and energy mingling with thought and command, flooding my senses. My right eye glowed with the same symbols that had marked the Purge Host, shifting and flowing like a living language. Every fiber of my being had become a glitch, a wild card in a universe built for order.
Kaelith gripped me harder, voice trembling. "Erevan… do you understand what you're doing? Every second, every move… you're tearing through layers of reality itself!"
I laughed, feral, letting the blood drip, letting the pixels fly. "Layers?" I said. "Ha. Layers are for cakes, Kaelith. Not for me."
I thrust my hand forward, and the threads snapping at me shredded instantly, collapsing into streams of harmless digital light. Every corrupted fragment, every pulse of beyond-Watcher energy, everything bent, snapped, and rewrote itself under my command.
Sir Quacksalot quacked, indignant, proud. I chuckled. "Yeah, you're my little co-admin, buddy. Don't get used to it."
The rift pulsed again, hesitation in its form, calculating, maybe even afraid. For the first time, even these omnipotent observers seemed uncertain.
I breathed deeply, letting the shard's energy flow through me. My right eye burned, my chest flared, and the ground itself vibrated with the pulse of rewritten reality. I realized, in a shocking, exhilarating moment, that I wasn't just surviving. I wasn't reacting. I was shaping the world itself.
Kaelith's grip tightened, awe and fear etched into every line of her face. "Erevan… this isn't just survival anymore," she whispered. "You've become… something else."
I smiled, blood and glitching symbols streaking across my skin, heart hammering. "Something else? Honey… I'm already the glitch in their perfect little system. And now? I'm unstoppable."
The shard pulsed again, jagged text flashing across my vision:
[Pathbreaker status: Active. System override: Ongoing. User authority: Absolute.]
The beyond-Watcher rift flickered, threads hesitated. Even the impossible entities paused, frozen in calculation. And in that moment, I felt it: not fear, not panic, but pure, exhilarating freedom.
I looked at Kaelith, at Sir Quacksalot, at the shattered world around me, and realized…
I wasn't just alive. I was free. And I was just getting started.