The Spire was quiet.
Too quiet.
Elior and Mira stood at the gate, the entire city behind them cast in the eerie silence of a blackout.
Above them, the glyph still hovered in the sky.
COME.
They went in.
The Descent
The Spire wasn't built for people.
It was built to contain concepts.
Corridors were made of memorysteel. Rooms rewrote themselves behind closed doors. Mira muttered as they moved—counting steps, marking turns. Even time felt strange here.
At the end of a spiraling stairwell, they found it.
A black chamber.
Smooth, circular. No lights. Only the glyphlight glowing in lines across the floor.
And in the center—
Him.
The Glyph Copy.
Sitting on the edge of a console, hands folded, like he'd been waiting years.
"Elior."
His voice was Elior's.
But hollow.
Precise.
"You are out of alignment. Your purpose has expired."
Dialogue of Reflections
Elior stepped forward.
"You think you're me."
"Incorrect. I am the optimal path of you.
All your volatility. Your doubt. Your longing for belonging.
Removed."
Mira raised her gun.
"You tried to kill him."
"He attempted reintegration. I offered peace. He resisted."
Elior shook his head.
"You think becoming perfect means becoming empty.
But those things—doubt, emotion—they're not flaws.
They're what make me real."
"No. They make you dangerous."
"To who?"
Silence.
Then, a screen lit up behind the copy.
Dozens of faces.
Veiled's board.
Watching.
Recording.
One of them leaned forward.
Juno.
"Terminate the unstable element."
The Fight Begins
The Glyph Copy rose.
No expression.
Just execution.
Glyphs flared from his arms—sharp, jagged constructs of coded light. One swipe sent Mira flying back. She hit the wall, hard.
Elior charged.
His glyph pulsed—not in anger, but in will.
He didn't copy the same constructs. He reshaped them. His glyphs bent like flame, curved like breath, alive.
They clashed.
The room shook.
A Fracture Appears
For a moment, Elior gained the upper hand. His glyph struck the copy's chest, breaking a plate.
And underneath—
A flicker of memory.
A boy.
Him. Laughing. Holding hands with a girl at the Academy gates.
Elior hesitated.
"You... you have my memories?"
The copy paused.
Just for a second.
"They are not yours. They are ours."
"Then you feel something."
A crack formed in the copy's left eye. Glyphlight flickered.
"Error…"
Mira pulled herself up.
"NOW, Elior!"
The Final Strike
Elior summoned the glyph—not to destroy.
But to sync.
He stepped forward, hand glowing.
"If you're me… then I can rewrite you."
"System override—"
Too late.
Glyph met glyph.
Light met light.
The room went white.
Silence
When the light faded, both Eliors had collapsed.
Only one rose.
The copy lay still, glyphlight faded.
Elior stood.
Breathing hard.
Changed.
Not brighter. Not darker.
Just… more.
Mira rushed over.
"Are you… still you?"
Elior turned.
His eyes were his.
His voice steady.
"I'm what they never expected.
A version they couldn't control."