The world was quiet again.
Not still — but quiet in that wrong way, like a lull before a scream. The mirror-faced god stepped forward through the wreckage of Phase One, unbound now by dimensional distortion.
It no longer flickered.
It existed.
Every inch of its form reflected Saylor Cogni — not as he was, but as he could have been: crueler, cleaner, perfect in posture, draped in black architecture stitched with glowing names.
His own abilities pulsed back at him — Mimetic Spin, Rift-Step, Phantom Echo — but refined, sharpened.
> "It's you," Brant said. "Isn't it?"
Saylor stared at the god. "No."
He stepped forward, each footfall lighting the cracked ground.
> "It's what the system thinks I'll become."
The god raised its head.
It did not speak aloud — but its mirror-face rippled, and across every shard of the broken Field, a single message appeared:
> PHASE TWO ACTIVE: THE ASCENDED COPY
RULE: THE SELF MUST FIGHT THE SELF.
---
Split Mechanics Engage
A second Saylor materialized beside each of the surviving players — distorted versions of themselves, drawn from their suppressed thoughts, past mistakes, and denied desires.
Lucia's double was drenched in dried blood, her chain a barbed crown.
Brant's wore riot gear — a walking inferno of repressed anger.
Veyra's was blindfolded, smiling.
"Shadow projections," Saylor growled. "But enhanced. Synced with our worst impulses."
Lucia's voice cracked. "So if we lose…?"
"We become them," Veyra finished. "Permanently."
Then the Ascended Copy lunged.
---
Saylor vs. The Ascended Copy
The battlefield bent to their wills.
Reality warped — no more physics, only intention.
Saylor struck first — a triple-Rift echo sequence that would shatter most gods.
The Copy mirrored it, not just dodging — but preempting the strike, using Saylor's own trajectory.
They clashed in a spiral of distorted time, the Copy moving with flawless precision, always one second ahead.
> Because it doesn't hesitate, Saylor realized.
Because it never doubts. Never questions. It is the version of me that accepted the game completely.
---
Elsewhere: The Others Fracture
Brant's clone overwhelmed him early — brutality against brutality. Brant went kinetic, detonating himself midair to slow his mirror's approach, but the Copy didn't stop.
Lucia fell to her knees as her chain betrayed her — wrapping around her throat, whispering, "You liked the violence."
Veyra stared at her reflection — her blindfolded twin murmuring all her secret thoughts aloud before she could act.
The Hidden God fed on hesitation.
And the Field itself reflected that doubt.
---
The Turn
Saylor disengaged with a Rift-rollback.
His breaths came in shudders. The Ascended Copy wasn't tiring. It never would.
He looked around.
Brant was pinned.
Lucia gasped through blood.
Veyra was frozen in psychic feedback.
And the god just watched — feeding.
Saylor reached inside himself — not for power, but for the Memory Core.
The glitched construct pulsed, still active. Still fractured.
> Use me, a voice whispered. Not his.
Use everything.
Saylor gave in.
He let every synced ability fire at once. Every stolen ticket. Every god fragment. The pain was indescribable — his veins screamed open, eyes cracked like glass.
But he didn't stop.
He screamed:
> "I'VE BEEN ALL OF YOU!"
> "I'VE BEEN KIND, I'VE BEEN BROKEN, I'VE BEEN HATED, I'VE BEEN ERASED—AND I'M STILL HERE!"
The Memory Core surged.
And all the true memories returned.
The moment Angela left.
The letter beneath his door.
The silent click of his apartment door closing for the last time.
His core self.
Not perfect.
But real.
---
The Break
The Ascended Copy paused.
For the first time… it hesitated.
Saylor saw the flicker of self-doubt.
He capitalized.
Rift-blinked behind it.
Spoke one true sentence.
> "You're not me."
And drove the False Salvation ticket into its chest.
The Copy shattered — exploding into unbound code and spiraling glyphs of erased memories.
The Hidden God reeled.
Its connections frayed.
The other copies — weakened.
Lucia's clone dissolved into steam.
Brant headbutted his to ash.
Veyra stared at hers and whispered, "You'll never define me," before it bled into mist.
---
The Hidden God Screams
Its face shattered.
No longer a mirror — now just screaming mouths, all trying to imitate a name.
> "SAY—LOR—CO—GNI—"
But the name refused to be said.
The system cracked again.
The Field bent inward.
> PHASE TWO: TERMINATED.
> FINAL PHASE APPROACHING: THE UNWRITTEN END.