The door to Level Omega wasn't a door at all—it was a wound.
Akwasi stood before it, chest heaving, his mind still echoing with the whispers of the archive. The metal wall in front of him pulsed like stretched skin, every beat syncing with his own heart until he couldn't tell which belonged to him. Thin cracks spiderwebbed across its surface, and from within, faint light leaked like blood through bandages.
His hands shook as he reached for it.
The moment his palm touched the surface, his skin fizzled and broke apart into shards of light. He gasped—not from pain, but from the overwhelming sensation that his body wasn't entirely his anymore. The wall absorbed his hand like water pulling in ink.
Inside Level Omega, the air was thick and slow, every breath tasting of dust and old static. Rows of machines loomed, silent but not dead—he could hear them breathing in the quiet hum of the room.
At the center stood a figure draped in crimson, their face hidden behind a mask made of broken glass.
"Welcome home, Subject 12A" the figure said, their voice the sound of hundreds speaking at once.
"You've been offline for far too long."
Akwasi took a step back. "Who are you?"
The figure tilted their head, glass mask catching the faint light. "I am the Architect. I wrote the Healer's code… and I shattered it. You are my proof. My failure. My masterpiece."
The ground beneath Akwasi shifted. He looked down—and realized the floor was made of screens, each one showing fragments of memories that weren't all his. A child screaming in the dark. A pair of hands coding symbols in midair. Isaiah's face, covered in black veins, looking straight at him.
"You put the code inside me," Akwasi said, voice trembling.
"No," the Architect replied, stepping closer. "You were born with it. I only woke it up."
Suddenly, every screen on the floor flickered, showing one image—a countdown. Ten seconds.
The Architect's glass mask cracked. "Level Omega is collapsing. Choose, Healer. Save the system… or destroy it."
Akwasi's vision blurred. His fingers sparked again, glitching between flesh and light. He knew what either choice meant. Saving the system meant binding himself forever to the code, losing what was left of his humanity. Destroying it meant erasing everything—and everyone—connected to it.
The countdown hit 3.
Akwasi stepped forward. His choice was clear.