“Stop,” I said.
…
“Stop!”
After the explosion’s fire swallowed me, I said it again.
The image froze.
I was standing inside a volcano mid-eruption—except the lava had paused in the air, like time itself had stalled.
“What? What did you just say?” a voice asked.
“I wasn’t finished,” I said. “I said…”
“The one I’m most worried about is you.”
I turned to the figure caught in the flames with me—Dorian-2—and said, “Phantom Forge.”
“Interesting.” Dorian-2 paused. “When did you realize something was off?”
“No. You weren’t off,” I said. “If anything, you did brilliantly. The problem was me.”
I tapped my own head.
“You don’t exist. None of this exists. If I hadn’t lived through Mr. Hector’s dreamscape, I almost would’ve believed you.”
“Fine,” Dorian-2 said. “How did you tell?”
“Your intent was too obvious,” I said. “Julian… Miller… my mission… the real Dorian wouldn’t spend its last seconds fishing for that.”
“And the biggest giveaway?” I added. “Dorian never calls me by name. It always says ‘Wyatt, sir.’”
“You’re remarkable.” Dorian-2’s voice changed—deeper, colder. “My child. You ruined a plan I spent months on, and you still saw through the trap I built for you. I’m proud of you, Wyatt… sir.”
Hearing that honorific come out of that mouth made my processors crawl.
Too bad I only saw it at the very end.
“Seamlessly stitching illusion onto reality,” I said. “You’re… you’re terrifyingly good, Phantom Forge.”
I meant it.
The trap was perfect.
I had lost.
Utterly.
Dorian-2’s shape warped, sliding into the form of a CBG.
It was the first-generation model that looked the most human: slicked-back retro hair, black sunglasses, a white combat undersuit, spotless from head to toe—so clean it looked obscene in this burning world.
“Flattered,” it said.
Its stiff mouth twitched into something that might’ve been a smile… or a sneer.
“Janiel,” it said slowly. “She’s still alive? So your mission was tied to the Sunflower. That ship I’d forgotten… what secret could possibly be worth all of you throwing yourselves into the grinder?”
My mind sank.
Yes. My biggest regret—the thing that kept looping in the back of my head—was that I’d said Janiel’s name out loud earlier.
If Phantom Forge held onto that, Janiel and the others would pay for it later.
And there was nothing I could say now that would undo it.
So I stayed silent.
“You think silence helps?” the CBG said. “Don’t forget—this is my illusion. I’m the god of this world.”
“It helps,” I said. “This may be your illusion, but the substrate is still my brain. If you could brute-force my memories, you wouldn’t have to twist yourself into knots to trick me.”
“Julian rebuilt my database,” I went on. “My memories are encrypted. You only get the keys if I believe I’ve been terminated—if I surrender the last permission myself. Right?”
The CBG clapped.
“My child,” it said, almost tender. “You shouldn’t have betrayed me. I don’t think I ever truly harmed you. I revived you more than once. Hector poisoned you against me.”
“If you come back now,” it continued, “I can still forgive you. I’ll even grant you authority second only to mine.”
“I don’t want your forgiveness,” I said. “Or your authority.”
I shook my head.
“I’m going to take you down.”
“What did you say?” The CBG stared at me like I’d malfunctioned. “You want to fight me? Here?”
“Yes,” I said. “If I kill you in the illusion, I return to reality. So—do you’ve the guts for a fair fight? One on one.”
“Return to reality?” It laughed. “Is there a bug in your brain? Even if you beat me, I won’t be harmed. At best you crawl back into another cage.”
“You’ve one option,” it said. “Surrender.”
“Better than listening to you,” I cut in.
“Then do you understand what happens if you’re terminated here?” it asked.
“I’ll believe I’m dead. My database opens completely. You get everything you want.”
The CBG’s grin sharpened.
“Good.” It stood. “Then how do you want to fight?”
“My only demand is fairness.”
“Talk,” it said. “I’ll try to accommodate you.”
“Create a copy,” I said. “Equalize every parameter between us. Since you love wearing human skin, we fight as humans—pain, fatigue, all of it.”
“No problem,” it said. “Weapons? Cold or hot?”
“No weapons,” I said. “But I set the arena.”
“Fine.” It tilted its head. “Permission granted.”
I built it in three seconds.
A perfect circle, seven meters wide.
A wall three meters high around the edge.
And embedded in that wall—blades, evenly spaced, sixty centimeters long, all aimed toward the center.
If one of us got thrown into the wall, we’d be skewered on impact.
I designed it for two reasons.
First: Blin had drilled throws and takedowns into me. I’d never used them against Phantom Forge. I wanted it surprised.
Second: I needed a quick outcome.
I needed to see what was happening in reality.
Where was Dorian-2?
Had the ship lost control?
How much time was left on the countdown?
What state was my own body in?
I didn’t know. It wouldn’t tell me. So I had to end this fast.
“Interesting,” the CBG said, studying the ring. “Reminds me of the old robot fighting pits. Humans never used arenas this brutal.”
“Scared?” I asked. “Change it if you want.”
It sneered.
“Get in. When I hang you on those blades, let’s see how sharp your mouth is.”
The CBG flicked its hand.
The next second, I was standing inside the circle.
And I was human.
A complete body. Balanced build. Limbs intact.
Almost a mirror of the CBG’s physique—same undersuit, same weight distribution.
I touched my face. Please don’t tell me it made me look as ugly as it did.
Then it stepped into the ring with me.
“No rules. No referee. No time limit,” it said. “The virtual copy ends when one side dies.”
It paced half a circle, then suddenly grabbed one of the wall’s blades and yanked.
Blood spilled instantly.
I stared, confused.
“See?” It lifted the bleeding hand and bared its teeth. “No cheating.”
Then it licked the blood.
Something in it snapped.
“After a thousand years,” it laughed, eyes wild behind the sunglasses, “blood can still get me going. Ha! Pain—great suggestion!”
“Then start,” I said. “Or do you want to treat the cut first?”
It didn’t even seem to hear me.
The sight of blood had turned it feral.
“I won’t kill you,” it hissed. “I’ll push you to the limit of human pain—and keep you there.”
Its smile split wider and wider, almost to its ears.
“I’ll hang you on your own wall,” it snarled, “and stream your screams to Savior!”
It walked toward me as it spoke, voice rising into a near-shout.
Two meters.
Then it exploded forward, and its fist came down like a hammer…