The air was sharp, too clean, and carried the faint scent of ozone and freshly cut grass – utterly alien compared to the metallic tang of the academy I remembered. I stood there, right in the center of the Nexus Arena, which, somehow, was perfectly restored. Not a crack in the tiles, no scorch marks from Drax's fire, no lingering echoes of the Glitch Beast. It was pristine, gleaming white under a sky that looked too blue to be real. And the crowd… oh god, the crowd was there. Thousands of faces, all cheering, but none of them, not a single one, holding any recognition for me.
"Hey... who are you guys? And where are we?" Reo's voice, usually booming, was hesitant, confused. He was standing beside me, wearing a standard Nexus Academy uniform, not his Flamebound Guild gear. His eyes, usually so sharp and full of fire, were wide and blank, scanning the arena with no memory of me.
Varn, typically the most composed, looked utterly lost. His mismatched eyes, usually so knowing, were just… empty. "I... I don't know you. Where's Helix Dome? What happened?" he mumbled, his hand instinctively reaching for a spot on his hip where a weapon should have been, but wasn't.
My heart sank, a cold, heavy stone in my chest. It wasn't a nightmare. It was real. The Ascension Protocol had exploded, just like Director Thorne said it would. But it hadn't just destroyed me; it had rewritten the world. And everyone in it. Everyone but me. I was the only one who remembered. The glitch that couldn't be erased.
A booming voice cut through the stunned silence. "Welcome, brave participants, to the 'Path to Apex' tournament! The gateway to Ascension! One hundred souls will enter, but only one will claim the right to stand among the Ascendants!"
A chill ran down my spine. This was the Path to Apex? But we had just finished the Path to Apex, or at least, the one I remembered. This was it again. A loop. A reset. And they didn't even know it.
I looked at Reo, then at Varn. How could I even begin to explain? "My name is Kael Serian," I said, my voice low, strained. "We were just in Layer Null. We were in the Omega Class. We fought in the trials."
Reo just blinked. "Layer Null? Omega Class? What are you talking about? My name is Reo Dran, and I'm a first-year at Nexus Academy." He gestured vaguely at Varn. "And this guy… he just woke up next to me."
Varn shrugged, looking agitated. "Yeah, I remember waking up in a… a lab. They told me I was 'transferred' here for 're-education'. Annoying."
They were saying the same things they had said the first time, before our memories, before our shared experiences. My stomach churned. This wasn't just a reset. It was like they had overwritten a save file, and I was the only one who retained the corrupted data.
The instructor from the previous tournament, the one who always scowled, was back on stage, yelling out names. "First match: Kael Serian versus Anya Volkov!"
My name. Again. They didn't even recognize that I had been through this. Or maybe, the system had just reset the people, not the designations.
Anya Volkov was a tall, imposing woman from a prestigious Combat Guild, covered in intricate tattoos that pulsed with energy. She had a massive axe strapped to her back. Her Contracted Entity, a hulking beast of shadow and steel, flickered beside her. She glared at me, her eyes full of the contempt I remembered from every "elite" student. "Another Omega Class reject? Don't tell me they let the Glitchborn through again." Her voice was like grinding stone.
The crowd roared. The bell rang. "BEGIN!"
Anya charged, axe raised, her shadow beast a blur beside her. She was faster than Drax, more focused. Her attacks were brutal, direct. Each swing felt like it could cleave me in two.
I moved, my body reacting on instinct. My Ascension Protocol hummed, louder than ever. The Codex in my mind was active, a constant stream of data, showing me not just her movements, but the underlying code of her abilities, the vulnerabilities of her Contracted Entity. This time, it wasn't just about understanding. It was about dominating.
Anya swung her axe in a wide, sweeping arc. I didn't try the "Rewrite Delay" trick. I knew her patterns. I knew her "Skill Set Tree." I knew where her balance points were, where her energy would naturally flow.
I used my Void Rewrite with a new level of precision, a tactic I hadn't even consciously realized before. I called it "Rewrite Delay"—not just on the impact, but on the flow of her own internal energy. As her axe swung, I subtly rewrote the very timing of her muscle contractions, causing a minuscule, almost imperceptible lag between her intent and her action. She still swung, but it was a fraction of a second off, throwing her rhythm.
She looked bewildered. "What?!" Her axe grazed my shoulder, but instead of a deep cut, it was a shallow scratch.
Her shadow beast roared, lunging at me. I focused, extending my Void Rewrite to its ephemeral form. The beast was an "Entity"—a coded construct. I wasn't just influencing it; I was subtly corrupting its core programming. Its movements became jerky, erratic, like a video game character lagging.
Anya tried to compensate, but her own attacks were off-kilter, and her beast was acting erratically. She was used to perfect execution, to an unyielding system. I was the wrench in her gears. I danced around her, not trying to hit her, but making her hit herself—or at least, waste energy. I subtly increased the air resistance around her swinging axe, making her work harder. I briefly altered the friction on the soles of her boots, making her stumble. Each small alteration was enough to throw her off, to make her doubt.
She grew frustrated, roaring, unleashing a torrent of attacks, her strength burning out quickly. My Ascension Protocol absorbed traces of her fury, her desperation. My "Echo" stat, which had been empty, now registered a faint resonance: [Echo: Frustrated Fury (Active - Minor)].
Finally, exhausted and disoriented by the constant, subtle manipulations, Anya staggered. Her shadow beast, now reduced to a flickering, glitching mess, dissolved completely. She stood panting, axe dragging on the ground, her eyes wide with a frustrated fury she couldn't understand.
"Winner: Kael Serian!" the announcer boomed, his voice a little less confident than before.
The crowd was less enthusiastic this time. There was a murmur of unease. They had seen an "error" win again, but this time, it felt more deliberate, more unsettling. The Director, in her private box, was watching me with an even deeper intensity. Her expression was unreadable, but I could feel the weight of her gaze. It was as if she was trying to decipher a code she couldn't quite crack.
As I walked out of the arena, I saw Reo and Varn at the edge of the crowd, still looking bewildered. They were talking to other first-year students, trying to make sense of their "new" reality. It twisted my gut. I had my memories, but they didn't. I was fighting alone, even with them beside me. This Path to Apex wasn't just a tournament anymore. It was a cruel reminder of what I had lost, and what I had to regain. I was in a world that no longer knew me, forced to fight battles I'd already won, against people I already knew. And somewhere, Eldrin Voss, the Codebreaker, was waiting, perhaps also remembering the world before the rewrite, or perhaps thriving in this new, altered reality. He was my real target now. My real fight.
Thoughts on the environment and Kael's feelings:
This chapter is all about establishing the "reset" reality and the weight of Kael's unique burden. The pristine arena, the perfectly healthy and amnesiac Reo and Varn, all emphasize that the world has indeed been rewritten. Kael's internal monologue focuses on the crushing loneliness of being the only one who remembers, even as he's surrounded by people he cares about. This adds a layer of emotional depth beyond just the action.
The fight itself showcases Kael's growing mastery of Void Rewrite. The "Rewrite Delay" applied to his opponent's internal energy flow and the subtle corruption of the Contracted Entity demonstrate his evolving precision and understanding of the system's code. He's not just powerful; he's becoming a true Codebearer. The fact that he's winning not by brute force but by disrupting the system itself reinforces his "glitch" identity. The audience's "unease" instead of just dismissal shows that his abilities are becoming too blatant to ignore.
The Director's deepened intensity indicates that Kael is truly on her radar now, not just as a test subject but as a significant threat. The mention of Eldrin Voss at the end connects this "reset" reality back to the larger conspiracy and sets up Kael's ultimate goal beyond just surviving the tournament. The "Path to Apex" is no longer just a funnel; it's a terrifying, cyclical challenge that Kael alone is aware of.