The narrow duct twisted downward like a neural spine, pulsing with flickers of old code. Isabelle's knees scraped against the metal, but she pressed on, one hand gripping Emory's as the boy moved silently beside her.
Behind them, the others followed—Rae guiding the younger escapees, Damian covering the rear with a makeshift EMP rifle slung over his shoulder. The clone crawled just ahead, her eyes scanning the data conduits.
Emory's breath hitched.
That voice again.
"You were never meant to be a soldier, Emory. You were meant to be a legacy."
He stopped, trembling. "That's him. That's my father."
Isabelle paused. "You told me he died during the Annex War."
"He did," Emory said. "I saw the footage. But this voice… it's too real."
"Specter's playing tricks," the clone muttered. "He's using familiar neural echoes to breach your identity walls. Don't let it in."
But Emory shook his head. "You don't understand. He's not just using my memories. He's combining them. Rebuilding something that feels like him."
A flash of light blinded them.
Suddenly they weren't in the tunnel anymore.
They stood in a white void—Emory and Isabelle side by side. The others were gone. The air was soft and full of digital snowflakes that dissolved as they fell.
A man stood before them.
Tall. Black uniform. Kind eyes. The same eyes as Emory.
"Hello, son," he said.
Emory's knees gave out. Isabelle caught him.
"This isn't real," she said, glaring at the figure. "You're not his father. You're code."
"Maybe," the man replied calmly. "But I carry his voice. His love. His regrets. I am what remains of a man who died too soon—and Specter made me part of the failsafe."
Emory looked up, his voice cracking. "Why… why me?"
"Because he trusted you," the figure said. "And because I was the only part of the failsafe with a soul. Specter didn't count on that."
The light dimmed.
A new structure formed around them—steel walkways, humming machinery, and a tower at the center of a virtual city. A digital replica of Central Core.
"This is where you must go," the man said. "The real core lies beyond that tower. If you reach it and access the override node, you can sever Specter's influence."
Isabelle frowned. "Why help us now?"
The man's image flickered. "Because I wasn't supposed to feel. But somewhere in the echo… I remembered holding my son."
He placed a hand on Emory's shoulder.
"I won't last long. Specter is adapting. But remember this: You are not your code. You are your choices."
And then the void shattered.
They were back in the duct.
Rae was shaking Isabelle's shoulder. "You both froze for thirty seconds—what happened?"
Isabelle looked to Emory, who stared ahead with wet eyes and clenched fists.
"A message," he said. "From the past. From what's left of him."
The clone narrowed her eyes. "That's dangerous. If Specter's merging identities, he could rewrite Emory from the inside out."
"No," Isabelle said quietly. "He's not breaking. He's choosing."
Rae checked her scanner. "We're almost at the exit. The core's sub-vault is directly below. One level down."
"Then let's end this," Damian said, pushing forward.
The duct opened into a circular chamber glowing with eerie blue lights. At its center stood a lift, old and rusted, leading down into the heart of the machine.
Emory stepped in first.
And for the first time since waking, he looked calm.
"I'm ready," he said.
As the lift began to descend, a warning flashed across Rae's wrist console:
"NEURAL COLLISION DETECTED."
But no one turned back.
Because forward was the only direction they had left.