The world waited.
Every frozen subject, every dripping pod, every alarm suspended mid-chime, hung in the air like reality itself had taken a deep, suspended breath. Erevan's heart hammered in his chest. Thump. Thump. Each beat echoed like a drum in the vast, unnatural stillness. The Codex burned hot in his hands—not just weight, but presence, a demand that pressed against his palms, spine, and mind.
His glyph-eye seared. It needed a final anchor, something to hold onto before the system unraveled completely. The shard in his chest pulsed with urgency, like a living heartbeat warning that it could fracture under pressure at any moment. Erevan's fingers twitched. Heat crawled along his veins, prickling his skin, igniting every nerve ending.
Kaelith's voice cut sharply through the silence, a blade of sound in the frozen air.
"Say it, Erevan."
Her eyes didn't waver. Golden and sharp, they pinned him in place, unwavering as a predator's gaze. Around them, the paused world seemed to lean forward, straining for the words suspended on his tongue.
He swallowed, lips dry, tongue thick in disbelief and fear. The Codex vibrated faintly in his grasp, sensing the tension. And then, with a trembling exhale, he spoke.
"All corrupted subjects shall obey the Duck Hierarchy."
For a heartbeat, nothing happened.
Then the system groaned—a sound somewhere between a scream and a laugh—and the world convulsed violently. Pods rattled. Alarms squeaked, paused, and froze mid-tone. And then… the frozen subjects began to collapse onto the floor.
Their glyph-glowing eyes blinked. Dimmed. And then, reignited with a strange, unsettling clarity.
They turned—not to him, not to Kaelith or Vega—but to Sir Quacksalot.
The little duck waddled forward, radiant as if lit from some internal, cosmic sun. Its tiny eyes reflected shards of entire shattered worlds. It tilted its head once, quacked twice, and the subjects dropped to their knees. Absolute obedience radiated from them, like a living, invisible code had rewritten their purpose.
Hierarchy established. Duck Emperor: Sir Quacksalot. Subordinates: forty-seven recompiled test subjects.
Kaelith blinked, lowering her sword, disbelief written across her face.
"…You've got to be kidding me," she muttered.
Vega's glitching outline spasmed violently, splitting into jagged copies for a heartbeat before snapping back together.
"This isn't coding," Vega hissed, voice jittering. "Ducks shouldn't even have system IDs. Let alone command an army."
Erevan buried his face in his hands, a hollow laugh slipping out.
"I didn't even mean it like that," he muttered. "But… fine. He's in charge now. Bow to your duck overlord, I guess."
Sir Quacksalot quacked once—a crisp, commanding sound—then hopped atop the nearest console. The recompiled subjects snapped to attention, forming neat rows with terrifying precision. One even gave a clumsy, half-human salute.
Kaelith groaned, pressing her forehead into her palm.
"So… what now?" she muttered, voice tight with irritation and disbelief. "We march into the heart of this lab with an army of undead duck followers?"
Erevan lifted his head, blinking, voice flat, yet edged with reluctant amusement.
"Apparently," he said.
Above them, the lingering fracture in the ceiling pulsed faintly. The Whisperer's voice seeped through, slick and serpentine.
"You think this saves you?" it hissed. "No. This only chains you tighter. Every rewrite binds you closer to us."
The crack snapped shut with a sound like glass breaking in slow motion. The chamber trembled, a subtle vibration of malice pressing through the walls.
The Codex pinged lightly in Erevan's hands, reminding him: the system's eyes were still on him. Waiting. Watching.
A new quest hovered in his mind: Escort the Duck Emperor and his subjects deeper into the laboratory. Locate the Core Server. Reward unknown.
Kaelith sheathed her blade with a metallic clang that echoed unnaturally.
"Fine," she muttered, voice low but firm. "But when this ends, Erevan… I swear, I am personally wringing your neck."
Vega hovered nearby, still jittering with unstable code, muttering fragments that made no sense.
"Hierarchy… rewrite protocols… ducks shouldn't even have system IDs… this is not supposed to happen…"
Erevan ignored them both, eyes fixed on the glowing console at the chamber's heart. Its symbol pulsed faintly, synchronized with the shard lodged in his chest. Whatever waited deeper in this labyrinth of steel and code… it was connected to him. Directly. Intimately.
The subjects, obedient to their ridiculous emperor, began to march. Their synchronized steps echoed off the sterile walls, unnervingly perfect. Kaelith stayed tense, hand on her blade. Vega flickered in jittered loops. Erevan followed last, dragging the Codex through the lab, its weight suddenly comforting in its familiar demand.
The march deeper into the lab felt unreal.
Corridors twisted around them like living things, bending ceilings and floors as if gravity had decided to take a holiday. Machines leaned and warped, organic shapes merging with flickering screens. Half-formed faces stared from monitors, melting into static with every blink, sending shivers down Erevan's spine. The smell of ozone mixed with burnt circuits filled the air, sharp and oppressive.
The recompiled subjects marched in step with eerie precision, yet cracks were forming in their obedience. Some muttered fragmented words, a whisper of memories they had never truly lived. Others whimpered quietly, bodies trembling as though the system's glue holding them together was beginning to unravel. Glyphs flickered and warped across their skin, pulsing red and orange like corrupted fire.
Kaelith's hand tightened around her blade, eyes scanning the hallway.
"They're breaking apart," she murmured, voice low but urgent. "Faster than I thought."
Erevan's glyph-eye confirmed it. Forty-seven had become forty-three, then thirty-nine. Each flicker, each shudder, sent a spike of tension through his chest. He felt the shard pulse violently, a warning that the instability wasn't just affecting the subjects—it resonated through the very core of the lab.
A subject screamed suddenly, a guttural, jagged sound that made every hair on Erevan's neck stand on end. It lashed sideways, colliding with the wall, and fragmented into raw static, dissolving into nothingness with a hiss. The others flinched, but the Duck Emperor quacked sharply, summoning them back into line. The tiny creature's glowing eyes were impossibly bright, radiating an authority that defied logic and reason.
Vega's glitch-voice cut sharply, trembling with alarm.
"They're not going to last," they warned, each syllable flickering in broken loops. "Whatever this place is built on… it consumes everything eventually. Anchors, order, borrowed humanity—it devours them all."
Erevan let out a long, shuddering breath, pressing the Codex against his chest. The warmth of the book was almost comforting, a fragile tether against the chaos, yet the shard's pulsing energy reminded him that comfort here was a dangerous illusion.
The corridor twisted again, forcing them to traverse walls and ceilings before gravity begrudgingly remembered its role. Every surface seemed alive, reflecting distorted light back into Erevan's eyes. He felt the energy from the corrupted subjects radiating through the hall, each step of their uneven march sending tremors beneath his boots.
Another subject shuddered violently, emitting a jagged shriek before lunging sideways, smashing into the wall. Its body fragmented into static, vanishing with a sharp hiss. A second shiver of fear passed through the remaining subjects, glyphs flickering wildly across skin like a storm barely contained.
Kaelith shot him a quick glance, voice tight with concern.
"Keep your focus, Erevan. If your shard reacts too violently, we all get swallowed in the instability."
Vega hovered beside them, sparks dancing along their jittered form like trapped fireflies.
"They can't hold it," Vega muttered almost to themselves. "This place… it eats every anchor. Every ordered thought. Every programmed motion. And the borrowed… humanity."
Erevan closed his eyes for a fraction of a second, letting the Codex rest against his chest. The rhythm of the shard syncing with the book was almost hypnotic. Thump. Thump. Each pulse felt like a lifeline, delicate yet terrifyingly vital.
Another subject screeched. Another fragmented into static. Panic rippled through the ranks, first faintly, then sharply. Feral tendencies spread like wildfire, testing the Duck Emperor's tenuous hold.
Sir Quacksalot quacked sharply, eyes blazing, calling the remaining loyalists to maintain formation. Even in miniature, the duck radiated authority. The chaotic, corrupted mass of subjects seemed to pause for a heartbeat, forced to obey.
Erevan felt the shard throb faster, every flicker from the corrupted subjects sending vibrations through him. Stability warning flashed in his glyph-eye.
[Warning: Stability Dropping – 27%]
"Focus," he muttered to himself, grit and adrenaline sharpening his words. "It's just numbers. Don't let the Codex fry my brain."
Kaelith's voice snapped across the corridor.
"They're turning feral! Erevan, we have to push forward, or they'll shred each other—and us!"
Vega's glitch-form flickered in overlapping loops, voice sharp with urgency.
"If the Duck Emperor falls… everything falls," they warned. "The shard's reaction isn't just power. Every pulse you give now amplifies the Core's response. One wrong move, and we're gone."
Erevan grit his teeth, tightening his grip on the Codex. The lab felt alive, a monstrous organism, and he—the shard embedded in his chest, the Codex in his hands—was its heart struggling to beat.
Finally, they reached the massive door leading to the Core Server chamber. The surface shimmered with the fractured shard-symbol, like a wound stitched together poorly. The Duck Emperor paused at the threshold, quacking twice with deliberate calm, as though acknowledging the path already chosen.
Kaelith exhaled slowly, tension easing just slightly.
"This is it," she said. "Whatever waits behind that door… it's tied to you, Erevan."
Erevan stepped forward. The shard in his chest burned hotter, almost painfully, as the Codex responded immediately, pages flipping to a blank sheet. Words and glyphs shimmered in the air, waiting for him to act.
Every instinct screamed: this wasn't a test of strength. This was a test of identity. Of control.
The Core Server wasn't just a machine. It was alive. Pulsing. Recognizing him. Syncing with the shard as though it had been waiting all along.
[Core Server Detected]
[Identity Match: 87%]
Erevan's hands hovered above the Codex, mind racing. Overwrite the Architect Heart? Resist entirely? Or attempt something… unprecedented?
Kaelith placed a firm hand on his arm.
"Don't let them force this, Erevan. Not the system. Not the Whisperer. Not even yourself. Only you decide."
Vega's glitching intensified, jagged and unpredictable.
"If you change this," they said, voice cutting in fractured loops, "you could collapse the entire lab… maybe the Architect itself. But maybe that's exactly what has to happen."
The Duck Emperor waddled forward, pecked at the crystalline door, and quacked. The door hissed open. Beyond it… a colossal crystalline heart, suspended by glowing cables, pulsed with radiant light. Each beat sent vibrations through the chamber, syncing with Erevan's shard like a living counterpart.
The Codex flared violently, pages spinning, glyphs etching themselves into the air.
[Identity Match: 87%]
[Core Server Heart Interaction Required]
Erevan staggered forward, mind screaming in awe and warning. The whispers of the corrupted subjects grew louder, breaking free from the Duck Emperor's fragile control. Red glyphs flared across their skin, feral hunger driving them toward him.
Kaelith drew her blade, eyes fierce.
"They're turning feral—Erevan, decide!"
The Duck Emperor quacked furiously, rallying the remaining loyalists to hold the line.
The Codex throbbed in Erevan's hands. Time pressed down like molten lead. A countdown blinked in his glyph-eye.
[System Override Countdown: 2:00]
Two minutes. Two minutes to overwrite, resist, or rewrite entirely. One wrong choice, and not just this lab, but the Architect itself could fracture.
Erevan's chest heaved. His shard pulsed violently, each beat echoing with the Core Server before him.
This was the moment. The heartbeat of the Architect.
The Codex hummed, quivering with unspent potential.
The Duck Emperor quacked once, steady and unwavering, like a silent counsel.
Erevan's fingers hovered over the glowing pages. Every flicker, every pulse, every twitch of the corrupted subjects pressed urgency into his mind.
The choice was his.
Time was almost gone.
The corridor ended in a cavernous chamber that swallowed the light. The walls pulsed faintly with a rhythm that wasn't mechanical—it felt alive, almost like a heartbeat syncing with his own. Shadows stretched and danced across the warped steel, distorted reflections of the flickering screens above. The air was heavy, thick with the metallic tang of charged circuits and ozone.
The Duck Emperor waddled forward, head held high, eyes glowing with a quiet, cosmic authority. It pecked deliberately at the massive crystalline door, and the air seemed to respond, vibrating in acknowledgment. A hiss echoed through the chamber, soft at first, then swelling to a low roar as the door slid open. Inside… the Core Server pulsed like a colossal heart, its crystalline surface refracting light into impossible angles. Cables radiated outward like veins, each pulse resonating in perfect synchrony with the shard lodged in Erevan's chest.
Erevan staggered forward, heart thundering against his ribs, each beat amplified by the shard's resonance. His fingers hovered over the Codex, palms slick with sweat, every muscle tensed as if bracing for impact. The corrupted subjects stirred behind him, their half-human, half-system forms twitching violently. Red glyphs flickered across their skin in chaotic patterns, and a low, guttural murmur grew into a roar as they surged forward, hunger and corruption radiating from every pore.
Kaelith's blade glimmered in the refracted light, her stance tight, controlled, ready to strike at a moment's notice.
"They're breaking free!" she shouted, voice cutting through the low hum. "Erevan, you have to decide now!"
Vega's glitching form flickered violently, multiple overlapping outlines jittering in and out of phase.
"Every pulse from the shard… it amplifies the Core's response," they warned. "One wrong move, and… everything collapses. You could take the lab, the Core, even the Architect with you."
Erevan swallowed, teeth grinding, the Codex pulsing with unbearable warmth against his chest. He could feel the shard thrumming in time with the crystalline heart. Every pulse sent ripples through his veins, each one whispering promises of control, power, or utter annihilation.
The corrupted subjects surged again, glyphs blazing crimson as they barreled forward, but the Duck Emperor quacked sharply, calling the remaining loyalists to form a fragile barricade. The tiny glow in its eyes seemed to radiate authority that even the corrupted couldn't ignore entirely.
[System Override Countdown: 1:00]
One minute. Just sixty seconds to overwrite, resist, or attempt something beyond comprehension.
The Codex vibrated violently in his hands, pages flipping of their own accord, glyphs forming in the air like sparks of pure energy. The shard burned hotter, pulsing in urgent sync with the Core's heartbeat. Erevan's vision blurred at the edges, reality warping slightly under the intensity of the resonance.
Kaelith stepped closer, voice steady but urgent.
"You decide this, Erevan. Not the system. Not the Whisperer. Not even me. This… this is yours."
Vega's fragmented form twisted in a looped jitter, voice stuttering between words.
"Every choice… it's dangerous… but maybe… maybe you have to break the rules entirely."
The corrupted subjects surged again, glyphs flaring like wildfire, a chaotic storm pressing against the Duck Emperor's tenuous line. Even with the Emperor's authority, some of them began to falter, glyphs flickering uncontrollably, bodies twitching violently, threatening to explode into pure static.
Erevan's breaths came in short, ragged gasps. The shard in his chest pulsed with a violent rhythm, and the Codex responded, almost as if alive, urging him forward. He could feel the Core itself, massive, crystalline, pulsing, as if it knew him intimately. It was alive, aware, waiting.
The Duck Emperor quacked once, calm and unwavering, pecking at the crystalline surface of the Core's enclosure. The door hummed in reply, light refracting wildly across the chamber. It was a simple, absurd act, yet the tiny bird's command radiated through the chaotic subjects, holding them at bay for precious seconds.
Erevan's hands hovered above the Codex. Every flicker from the corrupted subjects, every pulse from the shard, every vibration of the Core pressed urgency into his mind. He felt the weight of every choice, every consequence, every possibility compressed into this single moment.
[System Override Countdown: 0:30]
Thirty seconds. Time was bleeding fast. The corrupted subjects growled, hissed, and jerked forward in spasms. The Duck Emperor's loyalists struggled to hold the line, feathers glowing unnaturally in the warped light. The Core pulsed faster, syncing almost violently with Erevan's shard.
Erevan's mind raced. Overwrite the Core Heart? Resist completely? Attempt… something unprecedented? He could feel every memory, every failure, every victory compressed into the pressure of this instant. His chest ached from the shard's resonance, sweat stinging his eyes, muscles trembling from the tension.
The Duck Emperor tilted its head, quacked once, as if asking him silently, Are you ready?
Erevan's fingers hovered over the glowing pages. Every pulse, every flicker, every twitch of the corrupted subjects pressed urgency into his mind.
[System Override Countdown: 0:10]
Ten seconds. The corrupted subjects surged closer, glyphs blazing red, bodies twitching dangerously. The Codex quivered violently in his hands. The shard screamed, a sharp, rhythmic pulse syncing with the Core's enormous crystalline heart.
Time slowed. Every second stretched into an eternity. Every heartbeat, a drum of inevitability. The choice was his.
And the Architect waited.