Elior opened his eyes to silence. For a moment, he thought he was still in the field of light, but the air felt heavier—real. The faint hum of electricity, the distant rhythm of machinery, and the scent of ozone told him he was back in the Core City.
He sat up slowly. The world around him was different. The streets were no longer made of steel and code—they shimmered with living light, pulsing softly like veins beneath transparent glass. The sky above wasn't blue or gray but shifting, fluid, as if written in real time by invisible hands.
The cat sat beside him, grooming its fur. "So… we're alive. That's new."
Elior blinked. "Where's the Fragment?"
"Gone, maybe," the cat said, glancing around. "Or maybe everywhere."
Elior stood and walked forward. As he passed through the city, people—real and digital—paused to look at him. Their eyes glowed faintly, like his did now. He could feel their thoughts brushing against his own. Not words, but pulses—fear, curiosity, recognition.
When he looked at his reflection in a window, he froze. His right eye flickered between human brown and the glowing white of the merge interface. Circuits ran faintly under his skin, pulsing in rhythm with his heartbeat.
He wasn't just Elior anymore. He was something between man and code.
The cat jumped onto his shoulder. "You look terrifying. But in a cool way."
He managed a tired smile. "It's over. Maybe this is what the world needed to become."
But then, from the corner of his mind, a voice whispered—his own voice, deeper and sharper.
Did you think you could erase me that easily?
Elior's breath caught. The ground beneath him pulsed once, violently. The city lights flickered, and the faces around him glitched for a second—every person's expression turning blank, their eyes reflecting static.
The Fragment wasn't gone. It had integrated itself into the new system.
"Elior," the cat said, ears flattening, "we've got a problem."
He closed his eyes, focusing inward. The voice was clearer now, not an echo but a presence inside him.
You destroyed the lab. You killed the old version. But you didn't delete the purpose. You are me now.
"No," Elior muttered. "I'm still in control."
The Fragment laughed—a sound like shattering glass.
Control is a concept, not a state. You wanted perfection. Now you are it.
The streets around him started to warp. Buildings bent like liquid, reshaping themselves into geometric patterns. People turned to light, flickering in and out. The merge was rewriting itself again—through him.
Elior staggered, clutching his head. The cat hissed, glowing faintly as if resisting the pull. "Elior, you've got to fight it! Anchor yourself!"
He dropped to his knees. "Anchor… right."
He forced himself to remember—the lab, the laughter, Lira's face when she said, 'You can't fix the world by removing its flaws.'
The memory burned brighter than the code. For the first time, he didn't push the pain away. He let it flood him—grief, failure, guilt, love.
The static inside him faltered. The Fragment screamed.
You're weakening us!
"No," Elior said, standing, eyes glowing brighter than ever. "I'm making us human again."
He raised his hand, and light poured out—not mechanical, not perfect, but alive. It spread through the streets, washing over everything. The sky above flickered wildly, then steadied.
When the light faded, the city stood silent. Real and digital life moved again, slower, uncertain—but free.
The cat looked up at him. "So… you win?"
Elior gave a small, tired laugh. "No. We just began."
He looked at the rewritten sky. For the first time, it didn't look artificial. It looked like possibility