The city was supposed to be perfect.
At least, that's what they said. Every broadcast, every glowing banner that floated in the skies of the New Dawn repeated the same message—Harmony Achieved. Humanity and Core in Unity. But if you looked closer, if you really listened, you could hear the cracks.
The hum beneath the streets was no longer steady. The golden veins of energy that powered the city flickered, dimmed, then returned, as if the Core itself was uncertain.
I walked along the bridge that arched over the Reflecting River, watching my reflection shimmer between flesh and light. Sometimes my face blurred for a moment, like the data inside me couldn't decide what version of me it wanted to project.
The cat followed silently, tail swaying. "You feel it too, don't you?" it asked.
I nodded. "The Core's pulse—it's weaker. And the citizens… they're changing."
In the distance, a group of children played in the park. One of them suddenly froze mid-laugh. His body turned faintly transparent before solidifying again. The others didn't even notice. They just kept playing, as if a flicker in reality was nothing new anymore.
"We've merged too much," I muttered. "The balance is unstable."
The cat jumped onto the railing beside me. "Or maybe something's trying to pull it apart."
That thought lingered longer than I wanted. Ever since the merge, I had felt a faint presence—something just outside perception. A shadow that didn't belong in the light.
I headed toward the Central Spire, the tallest structure in the city and the point where the Core's consciousness resonated strongest. The guards at the gate nodded respectfully as I entered, their eyes glowing faintly with the same pale hue that marked every hybrid being.
Inside, the Spire was quiet. Too quiet. The hum of energy was faint, like a whisper in an empty hall.
I placed my palm on the Core's crystal interface. It flared briefly, scanning my signature.
"Core access granted," a neutral voice said.
"Show me system stability," I ordered.
A projection appeared in the air—lines of data forming a sphere. Half of it pulsed steady gold. The other half was fractured, shifting with static.
"What is that?" I asked.
"Unknown interference detected," the Core replied. "Origin… undetermined."
My heart sank. "External or internal?"
"Neither," it said. "The interference exists within the merged layer."
That meant it wasn't from outside the world—it was part of it. Something born from the merge itself.
The cat's ears twitched. "You created something new, Architect. And it doesn't like sharing reality."
A sudden pulse of dark light rippled through the room, knocking me back. The holographic sphere shattered, and the air grew cold.
For just a second, a figure appeared within the static—a silhouette of shifting lines, its eyes glowing like fractured glass.
"Who… are you?" I whispered.
The figure tilted its head. When it spoke, its voice echoed like mine but hollow.
"I am what you left behind."
Then it vanished.
The Core's voice trembled for the first time. "Entity designation: Null Fragment. Purpose: unknown. Containment: failed."
The cat looked at me, eyes wide. "Looks like your perfect world just got its first ghost."
I stood slowly, staring at the broken projection. Somewhere deep inside the city, something was waking up—something that remembered the old worlds too well.
And it wanted them back.