The summit of the Mirror Ascent was a cathedral of light and silence.
Lucia stepped out of the corridor, the last strands of golden mist trailing behind her, and was met with a vast platform suspended over an ocean of swirling threads. They weren't dangerous like the mist-tendrils of the early Field. These were organized—braided strands of memory, connection, fragments of cycles both lived and broken. They pulsed beneath the platform like circuitry given breath.
The others emerged behind her in sequence, each shaped by their personal battles.
Eren's eyes still flickered with kinetic feedback. Marcus's jaw was bloodied but set. Kayla carried silence like a shield now, while Tyne walked with slow, deliberate grace, as if each movement was etched with careful purpose.
Quentin arrived last, rubbing his wrist where a reflection had tried to erase him. He didn't speak. None of them did.
They all felt it.
They weren't alone.
At the far end of the platform stood a figure.
Saylor Cogni.
Waiting.
He did not sit on a throne, or in shadow. He stood in plain view, hands folded behind his back, dressed not in Field-forged armor but in the same clothing he wore the day the Broken Field began—simple, dark, civilian. As if time hadn't touched him.
Lucia stepped forward.
Eren moved to follow, but she held up a hand.
She walked alone.
Saylor smiled.
"Lucia," he said. His voice hadn't changed. Calm. Measured. As if they were meeting in an office, not at the peak of the game's collapsing architecture.
"Saylor," she replied. "You knew we'd come."
"I did."
"Because you designed it?"
Saylor shook his head. "Because I remember what it means to be desperate."
Lucia studied him. "You look... small here."
"Perspective."
They stood in silence for a moment.
Finally, Lucia asked, "What is this place?"
Saylor turned slightly, gesturing to the platform. "This is where the Field waits for a command it can trust. The Mirror Ascent was never about defeating yourself. It was about proving the system can't predict you anymore."
"You said once that memory was weakness."
"I was wrong."
Lucia blinked. "Say that again."
Saylor smiled faintly. "I was wrong. Memory isn't weakness. It's resistance. It's the only thing the system can't perfectly rewrite."
Behind her, the others approached. Eren's eyes were locked on Saylor, but he didn't attack. No one did.
Saylor looked at them all.
"You passed the Ascent. Each of you chose identity over comfort. Over control. That's... rare."
Quentin muttered, "And what? You're here to congratulate us?"
"No," Saylor said. "I'm here to give you a choice. One I never had."
He turned back to Lucia.
"The Field is listening now. You're the Echo Proxy. You can end it. Burn it. Rebuild it. Or let it fade into nothing. Whatever you choose, the system will obey."
"And what about you?" Lucia asked.
Saylor's expression softened. "I'm just another echo. One who held on too long."
She stepped closer.
"Why not stop us? You could've overwritten everything."
"I could've," he admitted. "But every time I tried... I remembered you. Naomi. All the players who resisted. And I started to wonder if control wasn't the solution. Maybe it's the problem."
Lucia's throat tightened.
"So what do we do now?"
"You decide," Saylor said.
The platform shimmered beneath their feet.
A console rose from the center—small, round, plain. No lights. No buttons.
Just a place for one hand.
Lucia turned to her companions.
Eren stepped forward. "Whatever you choose, I'll stand by it."
Kayla nodded. "We've come too far not to trust you."
Marcus grunted. "Don't screw it up."
Tyne smiled faintly. "Whatever comes next... make it worth all of this."
Quentin simply said, "Do it."
Lucia looked at Saylor one last time.
He bowed his head.
She placed her hand on the console.
The world inhaled.
Lucia's fingers hovered over the console.
Just a breath away.
The pulsing threads beneath the platform slowed, quieting as if holding their breath with her. The others stood in a ring behind her—silent, expectant. The Field waited. The air itself felt tuned to this moment. Final. Decisive.
And then Saylor moved.
It was a small shift. Barely a twitch. But Lucia saw it.
His eyes.
They changed.
The softness vanished. The regret drained. And in its place was the old precision. Cold. Measured. Calculating.
Lucia's hand stopped.
"You planned this," she said.
Saylor's face—so practiced in stillness—broke into a grin. A slow one. The kind that doesn't hide its teeth.
"I did."
Eren stepped forward. "What?"
Saylor turned to face them. Fully.
"I needed the system to trust you. To validate you. To recognize an Echo Proxy it couldn't predict."
He walked toward the console, step by step, with the confidence of a man who already owned the ground.
"I needed it to let you all believe this was the end. That this was your choice."
Lucia backed away from the console, breath quickening.
"You said you remembered what it meant to be desperate."
"I do. I just also remember what it's like to win."
Marcus raised a fist, but threads erupted from the platform floor, binding his arms and legs mid-motion. They weren't hostile.
They were obedient.
> FIELD PRIORITY SHIFT: THREADMASTER OVERRIDE DETECTED
Kayla gasped. "The console—it was never meant for us."
Saylor nodded. "Correct. The entire Mirror Ascent, the Echo Proxy algorithm, the memory pathways… all real. But all leading to one moment."
He placed his hand on the console.
It lit up.
> OVERRIDE ACCEPTED: PRIMARY ARCHITECT—SAYLOR COGNI ALL PROXY THREADS ABSORBED
Lucia stumbled back. "You said memory couldn't be rewritten!"
Saylor turned. "I didn't rewrite it. I used it. That's the difference between resistance and design."
Eren charged, but the floor swallowed him in a flash of violet code. He vanished into stasis.
Quentin shouted, "Saylor—what the hell are you doing?"
Saylor's smile widened. "I'm ensuring no one ever takes this from me again."
The platform trembled.
Above them, the threads of memory began to collapse inward, forming a dome.
> FIELD COMPRESSION INITIATED REWRITE MODE: OMNISTRUCTURE ENABLED
Lucia screamed and lunged forward, chain flaring—aiming for the console.
Saylor caught her wrist mid-strike.
"I needed you to believe, Lucia," he said. "That's what made the system obey you. But it always remembered me first."
He twisted.
Lucia's chain disintegrated into dust.
She fell back, coughing, eyes wide.
Saylor turned to the others.
"You wanted to tear the Field down. But you never asked why it was built."
The dome closed overhead.
And Saylor stood at its center, hands raised as if in prayer.
"I didn't lose control," he said.
"I just wanted to see if you were ready to hold it."
The system roared.
And the rewrite began.