Zone 12 wasn't on any updated map.
The city marked it as structurally collapsed and digitally sealed—unsafe for any personnel. Most locals assumed it had already fallen into the Nullscape completely.
But as Kael and the others walked toward the zone's edge, they found the truth was worse.
It was still standing.
Just… wrong.
"What is this?" Mira asked, watching a flickering streetlamp pulse between colors that didn't exist.
"Time loop distortion," Juno replied, scanning the intersection. "Like the frame of reality here is cracked."
The buildings weren't decaying—they were stuck. Frozen mid-glitch. A coffee shop sign flickered between three languages. A traffic drone looped the same two meters over and over like it had forgotten how to stop.
Ryke walked ahead, his core active beneath the surface. His presence grounded them—even as the world around them trembled like it was being rewritten.
Kael hung back.
The further they walked, the more his core buzzed.
Not in pain. Not in warning.
In recognition.
Like the zone itself remembered him.
They stopped at a sealed stairwell where the Obelisk ping had last surfaced. A thick iron blast door covered in warning glyphs stood half-welded shut.
Kael reached for the control panel.
"Don't," Ryke said.
Kael paused. "We came here for the signal."
"I know. But if that door opens, we're all in it together."
Kael looked at Mira. She gave a little nod.
Juno's grip on her blade tightened. "We go in fast. Out faster."
Kael took a breath and slammed his hand into the override.
The door groaned.
Then opened.
The hallway beyond wasn't part of Lunaris.
It couldn't be.
The walls pulsed with code. Red script crawled over them like veins, shifting as they walked past. Lights turned on before they stepped, then died behind them. Kael's ears rang constantly.
But worse—there were voices.
"It's not your fault."
"You should've stayed behind."
"Where were you when they died?"
Kael stopped, blinking hard.
No one else had spoken.
But the voice was familiar.
His sister's.
Mira reached out and grabbed his wrist.
"Don't listen to it."
"It's not real," Kael whispered.
"No. But it knows what is."
They reached the final chamber.
A massive vault door was embedded in the far wall, surrounded by black roots of exposed data cables. The ground here was warm.
And in the center of the room?
A single figure.
Small.
Still.
A child.
Wearing an old EXE interface suit.
Helmet off.
Eyes blank.
Kael stepped forward slowly.
The others didn't move.
"Hey," Kael said, voice barely above a whisper. "You okay?"
The child looked up.
And smiled.
But there was no soul in it.
Only static.
The core in Kael's hand surged—hard.