Root fell through the Ash Zone like a corrupted save file.
There was no wind. No impact. Just the sense of being yanked out of a page someone was trying to erase—and dropped into another that hadn't been written yet.
When he landed, it was on solid stone. His knees hit hard, scraping through rough, blackened tile. He gasped, lungs aching, Hollow Points flaring like burned nerves under his skin.
Veyr was already standing.
The summon's arms were crossed, suit slightly torn at the shoulder, mask faintly cracked down one cheek. His glow flickered with strain.
"You alright?" he asked without turning.
Root didn't answer immediately. He pushed himself upright, wincing as the last traces of that entity's pressure peeled off his interface. "I think so," he said. "What the hell was that?"
Veyr exhaled like he was about to answer with something sarcastic—then stopped. He tilted his head. "You hear that?"
Root's spine locked.
There was no wind. No footsteps. But he did hear something.
Breathing.
Behind him.
He spun.
But nothing was there.
The arena they landed in was dead quiet. The obelisks from before had vanished. The zone no longer flickered—it had solidified into a clean, blank loading space with no exits. No entrances. Just smooth black tile and white void at the edges.
"Did something follow us?" Root asked quietly.
Veyr didn't respond.
Instead, he moved—faster than Root had ever seen. His hand snapped up, catching a shape mid-air.
It had no body. Just a shadow—a flicker of Root's silhouette, copied perfectly and lunging at his back.
Veyr held it in place, arm trembling. "It's you."
Root's mouth went dry. "What?"
"Not you-now," Veyr muttered. "You-before. Or… you that never was."
The shadow convulsed violently, trying to pull free from his grip. It wasn't a summon. It wasn't even a creature. It was a fragment of narrative memory, leftover from the Ash Zone's rewrite. A piece of a Root that the System had almost created, before Hollow took over.
"Kill it," Root said coldly.
Veyr nodded. "Gladly."
He crushed it in his palm.
The shadow didn't die with a scream. It didn't even resist. It just dissolved—quietly, like it had been waiting to disappear. Like it had known this version of Root had already replaced it.
But even as it vanished, it left something behind.
A new message burned across Root's Hollow interface, flickering blood-red:
[ MEMORYBURN INITIATED. ]
[ ALL FORGOTTEN VERSIONS NOW VULNERABLE TO RECLAMATION. ]
Root blinked.
"…That's not good."
Root stared at the message.
[ ALL FORGOTTEN VERSIONS NOW VULNERABLE TO RECLAMATION. ]
It sat on his Hollow interface like a curse—one he didn't fully understand, but felt real. Too real.
"What does that mean?" he asked, his voice tight.
Veyr didn't answer immediately. He stood still, like he was reading something Root couldn't see. His glow dimmed. "It means the System's not just trying to delete you anymore."
Root clenched his fists. "Then what?"
"It's trying to replace you," Veyr said. "With one of the versions it liked better."
Root went quiet.
For the first time, this wasn't just about Hollow Points or surviving the next zone. This was about identity. The fact that he—Root—wasn't the only possible version of himself. There were others. Classed versions. Normal ones. Chosen ones. Cleaned-up roots that had titles and fated summons and System-approved goals.
And now… the System could access them again.
"They want me out of the story," Root said, his voice steady. "But instead of killing me, they'll just write a different 'me' into the space I left behind."
Veyr nodded slowly. "And if that version finishes your quests, builds your power, and follows the plot… most people won't even notice."
The thought made Root sick.
All this time, he'd been fighting to carve a space for himself—to exist on his own terms. And now he realized: that space wasn't just being erased. It was being recycled.
He might not die.
He might just be forgotten.
"No," Root muttered, his voice like steel. "We're not letting that happen."
Veyr's smile beneath the cracked mask was faint, but there. "Good."
A ripple ran across the floor. The message disappeared—but something took its place.
A quiet notification. Almost invisible.
[ NEW ENTITY FLAGGED IN SYSTEM LOGS: "ROOT_PRIME (Null Class – Unauthorized)." ]
[ SYSTEM HAS INITIATED MIRROR PROTOCOL. ]
Root narrowed his eyes.
"…Mirror protocol?"
"Mirror protocol," Veyr repeated. "They're going to make a perfect copy of you—stats, memories, even your choices. But without me. Without the Hollow. Just the version that never went off script."
Root's hands trembled at his sides, but not from fear. From rage.
"They're building a version of me they can control."
Veyr nodded. "And they're going to send him after you."
The chamber around them began to dissolve.
Not collapse—cleanse. The way a corrupted file is wiped before replacement. Floor tiles were vanishing in orderly grids, like an invisible administrator was formatting the world beneath Root's feet.
"It's already happening," Veyr said. "They're building it now. Piece by piece."
Root didn't move. He let the stillness wrap around him, let the gravity of it all settle. His fists weren't clenched anymore. His Hollow Points had cooled. But something behind his eyes had sharpened.
"They want a cleaner version of me?" he said quietly. "Let them finish it."
Veyr tilted his head. "You sure?"
"Yeah." Root turned toward the fading edge of the zone. "Because I want to see the look on its face when it realizes I'm not the broken copy. It is."
The zone flashed once. A system ping went off—quiet, clinical.
[ ROOT_PRIME: STAGE 1 CONSTRUCTION COMPLETE. LOCATION: MIRROR BASTION. ]
A waypoint appeared on Root's Hollow interface. No quest. No rewards. Just one message:
[ UNAUTHORIZED SELF-DUPLICATION DETECTED.
PROCEED TO ELIMINATE CONFLICTING ENTITY. ]
Root didn't need a prompt.
He was already walking.
"Let's go," he said.
Veyr floated to his side, his glow slowly returning to its vibrant, smirking blue. "You're taking this personal."
"I am this," Root said. "Every rewrite I've made, every sigil I've stolen, every summon they erased—I'm the sum of everything they didn't want."
He looked up at the sky. "And now I get to fight their favorite."
There was no ceremony to his exit. No portal. No fanfare.
Just Root stepping through the final threshold of the Ash Zone with one goal:
Prove that what was broken… deserved to survive more than what was perfect.