The next day began before sunrise.
Kael was already awake when the summons came — a single message flashing on the wall crystal: Report to the Resonance Chamber.
Lucen cracked one eye open. "You're getting way too many private invitations from old men in robes."
Kael grunted. "You jealous?"
"Mostly concerned."
Ryn sat up, hair pointing in all directions. "If you die, I get your boots."
Kael gave a weak grin. "Fair deal."
He left the dorm and walked through the empty halls. The Resonance Chamber was deep under the academy's core tower — a place most students didn't even know existed. When he entered, the door sealed behind him with a hiss.
The room was circular, built entirely of stone and glass. Blue circuits ran through the floor like veins, converging at a raised platform.
Headmaster Varrin stood waiting with three technicians and a tall woman in uniform. Her hair was tied into a neat braid, eyes sharp enough to cut glass.
"Kael," Varrin said, "this is Captain Elara. She oversees containment. You'll behave as though she's always one breath from stunning you."
"Comforting introduction," Kael muttered.
Elara didn't react. "If I need to use the stun rod, you won't hear it coming."
Varrin smiled faintly. "She's very good at her job."
The technicians checked the monitors while Varrin motioned Kael toward the center of the platform. "Stand there. Let the Crest align with the core nodes. We'll begin with low output."
Kael exhaled and stepped in. As soon as his foot touched the central circle, the Crest on his arm began to glow, syncing with the chamber.
> System: Deep Sync channel detected.
Proceed with memory extraction?
He nodded once. "Do it."
Light flooded the room.
It wasn't like the usual flicker of his Crest — this was a river pouring through his veins. His mind stretched, pulled in every direction at once.
Then came the voices.
Whispers, thousands of them. Layered, tangled, desperate.
They lied to us.
We built their empire.
They erased our names.
Kael clenched his fists. "Too many—"
Varrin's voice echoed faintly through the static. "Focus on one source. One thread. Don't let them all in."
He tried. He reached through the noise, searching for something solid. One whisper grew clearer.
Kael.
He froze. That voice wasn't one of the lost Mimics. It sounded older. Familiar.
The light shifted. He saw an image — a man in a lab coat, sitting before a terminal, typing with shaking hands. The screen behind him showed the Crest symbol.
> "Project DRV-01: Subject stable. Genetic resonance confirmed. Transfer to containment postponed until child birth verified."
Kael's heart slammed against his ribs. The man looked straight toward the viewer, eyes tired but intent.
> "If you're seeing this, you carry my mistake. The Crest isn't meant to copy. It's meant to rewrite. Don't let them use you like they used me."
The memory glitched. Kael tried to hold onto it, but the image dissolved into static.
"Wait— who are you?" he shouted.
A single word echoed back before everything went dark.
> "Father."
The connection snapped. Kael fell to his knees, gasping for air.
The technicians rushed forward, but Elara stopped them with a hand. "Vitals?"
"Stable," one said. "But his mana output spiked off charts."
Varrin knelt beside Kael. "What did you see?"
Kael's throat felt raw. "My father. He— he worked on the project."
Varrin didn't look surprised. "That confirms what we suspected."
Kael looked up, anger flickering in his eyes. "You knew."
"I had data," Varrin said calmly. "Now I have proof."
Kael stood, voice sharp. "You used me as a test."
"We needed to know how far the system had advanced. And now we do."
He wanted to punch the old man. The only thing stopping him was how steady Varrin looked — not smug, not cruel, just... inevitable.
Elara stepped forward. "He's not stable enough for a second test."
Kael snapped, "Try me."
She raised an eyebrow. "You just passed out."
"Then I'll pass out twice."
Varrin lifted a hand. "Enough. Rest for now. What matters is that your father's code still exists somewhere. Find it, and we'll know how to control the system before it consumes the academy."
Kael's laugh came out flat. "You don't want control. You want a weapon that learns."
Varrin's silence was answer enough.
Elara guided him out, though her grip was more iron than friendly. "You handled that better than most," she said once the doors shut.
Kael looked at her. "That supposed to be praise?"
"Observation."
He smirked faintly. "You talk like him."
"I don't have time for small talk," she said. "But if you plan to tear the place apart, give me a minute's notice."
"Why?"
"So I can stand somewhere with a better view."
Her mouth twitched — almost a smile, almost not.
When Kael returned to his dorm, Lucen and Ryn were waiting, both clearly pretending they hadn't been pacing for hours.
Ryn asked first. "You alive?"
"Mostly."
Lucen eyed him. "You look like someone tried to plug lightning into your skull."
Kael dropped into a chair. "Not far off."
They waited. He told them about the vision — his father's message, the word rewrite, the warning.
Lucen whistled low. "So your old man built the Crest that's eating the world. Nice family legacy."
Ryn crossed her arms. "What did he mean by rewrite?"
Kael stared at his hand. The Crest flickered once. "I think... it doesn't just copy skills. It changes them. Maybe even people."
Ryn frowned. "As in?"
"If it wanted to, it could reshape a person's mana signature — overwrite who they are."
Lucen muttered, "That's not creepy at all."
Kael leaned back, mind still spinning. He could almost hear that whisper again — Don't let them use you like they used me.
> Mimic Soul — Sub-Mode expanding.
Rewrite Threshold: 1% initialized.
He exhaled. "Too late, Dad. I think it's already started."