The Vaultspawn
The arena floor had changed again.
Gone was the obsidian ring, the etched wards, the neutral platform.
Now it was a crucible—a jagged cage of scorched iron and pulsing runes, suspended above a pit of darkness that seemed to stretch into a void beneath the academy.
A voice echoed from the walls, metallic and ancient:
> "Next Trial: Subject Greenbottle, Lyle.
Opponent: Vault Designation GRAY-X – Echo Remnant Class."
Juno's eyes went wide from the spectator stands.
Even Asterion, posted at the edge of the chamber, muttered something under his breath.
"Gray-class? They're not using cadets anymore…"
---
The Council's viewing platform hovered in silent approval above.
Seven masks, unmoving.
Seven judges, faceless.
One of them… Kalen, stood just behind the central figure now.
Not masked.
Not cloaked.
Just smiling faintly.
---
Lyle stepped forward into the ring.
The Codex thrummed against his palm.
Heavy. Uncertain.
Then it began writing:
> [Combat Initiated: Codex Carrier vs. Failed System Echo]
Opponent: GRAY-X
Origin: Vault 3 – Council Disposal Unit
Notes: Constructed from collapsed realities. Composite of twelve partial Lyle variants.
Memory Priority: Version 3.17. Death Condition – Spinal rupture from failed mana backlash.
Lyle's stomach turned.
"Wait," he whispered. "It knows how I die?"
The glyphs flashed once.
> [Affirmative.]
---
Chains clanked.
The far gate unsealed.
And GRAY-X stepped forward.
It was tall—twice Lyle's height, humanoid in shape, but warped.
Its body was formed from overlapping glyph threads, broken Codex fragments embedded in its limbs.
Twelve mana cores glowed in its chest, each blinking irregularly.
Its face?
A mirror mask.
And behind it, twelve voices spoke in perfect unison:
> "Hello, Lyle. We remember screaming."
---
The chain restraints snapped loose.
The construct leapt forward like a predator.
Lyle rolled aside just in time, blasting a wall of shadow to block the follow-up—only to see it phase through the barrier like smoke.
It struck.
Lyle blocked with an armored gauntlet formed from Quinn's ring's blood-iron shaping—barely holding against the blow.
His arm snapped at the elbow.
Pain exploded down his nerves.
---
He fell back, gasping.
The Codex flooded with options.
> [Activate Narrative Pressure Aura?]
Effect: Perceived dominance in spectators. Boost to fear in weaker minds.
Effectiveness vs. GRAY-X: Null.
"Not helpful!" he hissed.
He scanned—searching for weaknesses.
The construct split apart.
Literally—its body separating into three, each mimicking one of his old fighting stances.
The version that favored speed.
The one that relied on stealth.
And the one that cast without thought.
His past selves—twisted into mockeries.
---
Juno rose to her feet.
"Shut it down!" she shouted toward the Council.
No response.
Asterion slammed his hand on the lockdown panel.
The system blinked:
> Override denied. Trial in progress.
"I'll kill them all," Juno whispered.
But she didn't jump in.
She trusted him.
Even now.
---
Lyle forced himself to stand.
Blood ran down his arm, but the pain was fading—replaced by something colder.
A whisper echoed in his skull.
Quinn's voice.
Not memory.
A recording?
Or…
> "The shadow isn't about hiding. It's about surviving between what they expect… and what you actually are."
---
Lyle closed his eyes.
His Codex flickered.
And he activated the Mimic Echo—a skill born from the Arcai Ethos he'd integrated early on.
Suddenly, his mana signature vanished.
Not cloaked.
Not hidden.
Erased.
The GRAY-X units froze—uncertain.
He used that.
Sliding behind the slowest one, he summoned a spike of reverse-thread mana through the ring's channel—twisting time around his hand just long enough to strike the primary glyph anchoring its mimic protocol.
The construct screamed—twelve voices in agony.
---
He moved to the second.
Dodged.
Slipped.
Launched a pulse of illusion wrapped in decay-flame.
It worked.
Two out of three pieces staggered.
But the third?
It adapted.
In real time.
And whispered—
> "We remember your mother's face."
Lyle stopped cold.
"What did you say?"
The construct smiled with his own mouth.
> "The version who tried to save her… screamed the same way you just did."
Then it drove a spike of light through his shoulder.
---
Pain blurred the world.
His vision collapsed inward.
The Codex pulsed.
> [Thread Collapse Threshold: 86%]
Heir System Backup Triggering…
No.
Not yet.
Not now.
He couldn't lose in front of them.
Not like this.
---
He opened the Genesis Rewrite page—the one he'd refused to read before.
> "How I Lost Everything."
He read the first line aloud.
> "I failed because I tried to be seen winning, not actually surviving."
Lyle grit his teeth.
Then cast a spell he'd never fully tested.
A hybrid glyph—part Quinn, part dream-thread, part him.
And when it struck GRAY-X—
It didn't kill it.
It restored its memory.
For a heartbeat, the construct saw what it had been.
A boy.
A student.
A thousand failures trying to live again.
And it broke.
Collapsed to its knees.
---
The trial ended in silence.
The Council offered no commentary.
But the Codex responded:
> [Victory: Recorded.]
Legend Thread: Advanced.
System Narrative: Reshaped in observer memory.
You are no longer just a cadet.
You are the one who overcame himself.