The moment the blades collided,reality split.
Not shattered —split — into fragments of memory layered over each other, folding time and identity into a looping dream neither version had full control over.
Kairo blinked.
The atrium was gone.
Replaced by something else.
A subway car.A hospital bed.A tower rooftop in the rain.A street filled with corpses wearing his face.
And standing in each of them —was the Echo.
Same blade.Same hate.
But in each place,his words were different.
"You let Astra die.""You ran from Elen.""You watched Skarn burn and didn't speak.""You lived. I suffered."
Kairo swung his drift knife — but his arms were heavy.
In this dream-space, the weight wasn't physical.
It was emotional.
Every memory weaponized.
Every mistake replayed.
The Echo's next strike knocked Kairo through another layer of thought.
He landed on a bedroom floor, dimly lit.
Posters on the walls.
A window cracked open.
Faint rain.
He knew this place.
His childhood room.
He turned—
And saw a boy sitting on the edge of the bed.
White hair.Blank eyes.Tears silently falling down his face.
Kairo stepped toward him, slowly.
"Who are you?"
The boy didn't answer.
Just pointed at the mirror on the wall.
Kairo looked.
And saw nothing.
His reflection was gone.
Erased.
He staggered back — and the dream twisted again.
CLASH
The real Echo was there again — blade raised —driving Kairo back through collapsing memories.
"You don't exist!" the Echo roared.
"You're a leftover error from a Layer that doesn't even run anymore!"
Kairo gritted his teeth.
Fought back — blocking a low swing, sliding under the next.
"I'm not perfect," he said. "But I'm still here."
The Echo snarled.
"Not for long."
He launched a brutal series of attacks —Each one dragging Kairo through memory echoes:
A kiss that never happened.
A promise he broke.
A message from Astra he never answered.
A flower he forgot to water.
Each cut stole something.
But then—
Kairo stepped through one memory he did remember.
And it hurt less.
It was the first time Astra said his name.
Not "Hey."Not "You."
She had whispered it during an old storm."Kairo."
That memory glowed.
Bright.
Stronger than the dream noise.
The moment anchored him.
His knife surged with light — raw resonance, fueled not by hate…
…but by choice.
Kairo struck back —cutting across the Echo's shoulder.
The memory bled.
"You're right," Kairo said, breathing hard.
"I didn't deserve to survive."
The Echo paused.
Eyes narrowing.
Kairo raised his blade.
"But I did anyway."
"And I'm not wasting it."
The world cracked.
Shattered.
All the memory-rooms collapsed in on themselves.
Kairo and his Echo were pulled back to the real atrium.
The blades locked again.
This time, equally.
The Echo staggered.
His arm trembled.
For the first time —he looked afraid.
"You… stabilized the drift," he muttered.
Kairo nodded.
"I remembered something real."
The Echo looked down at his blade.
Back at Kairo.
For a long, long second…
He just stood there.
Then dropped the blade.
Silence.
Breathing.
Rain began falling through the cracked ceiling above them —echo-weather from a damaged Layer.
The fight was over.
But the damage remained.
The Echo turned away.
"Don't think this makes you better."
"I don't," Kairo said softly.
"I just think… maybe we both wanted to survive the same thing."
The Echo didn't reply.
He stepped into the corridor behind him.
Paused.
Then said, quietly:
"If you hear a voice call you 'Fracture Zero'…"
"Run."
And he was gone.
Astra approached, quiet as the rain.
Kairo sat down heavily.
Stared at the drifting knife still buzzing faintly in his hand.
She said nothing.
Just sat beside him.
They watched the rain.
The glitch flower in the corner bloomed again.
Two petals this time.
One for each of them.
Kairo leaned his head back.
Closed his eyes.
"I think I just fought my fear of myself."
Astra nodded.
"And?"
He smiled — tired, broken, real.
"I didn't win."
"But I'm still here."