Juno dreamed of fire.

Buildings collapsed in reverse, ashes forming walls, screams rewinding into silence. She stood in a ruined corridor lined with mirrors, each one reflecting versions of herself—some older, some bleeding, some screaming. In every reflection, Ren was dying. In most, it was by her hand.

She woke with a start, heart pounding.

The dorm lights were still dim. Pre-dawn.

She sat up slowly, pressing a hand to her chest. Her fingers trembled.

[UNAUTHORIZED MEMORY ACCESS DETECTED – SUBJECT: JUNO KAZURA] [ECHO SURGE: DREAM BLEED INTENSIFIED. FRAGMENT STABILITY: 12%]

She didn’t see the message. But she felt it—in the ache behind her eyes, the static hum at the edge of her hearing.

She remembered Ren’s face.

And the sound of her own voice saying, “You were expendable.”

Across the dome, Ren stood outside the training hall, watching the first rays of morning light bleed through the glass ceiling. He hadn’t slept either.

[USER STATUS: FATIGUE LEVEL 3 – REST RECOMMENDED.]

He ignored it.

He was waiting for Ayane.

But she didn’t come.

Ayane sat alone on the edge of the old assembly stage, knees hugged to her chest.

The chamber was quiet. This section hadn’t been used in years—its floor scorched from a training accident long before her time. Most kids avoided it. Ghost stories. Bad energy. She liked the quiet.

Her mind wouldn’t stop spinning.

She’d felt something last night. Not just betrayal. Not just grief.

Something else. Something inside her. Like a shadow pulling upward.

She gripped her arms tighter.

[SYSTEM CONNECTION: PENDING... NODE SYNC UNSTABLE.] [ECHO FIELD INTEGRATION: 14%]

Her eyes flinched at the flash of light across the floor—but there was no source. A hallucination. Or something more.

She saw her own hand, flicker-glitched, for just a second.

Later that day, training resumed.

Ren moved like a machine. Clean, efficient, distant.

Juno watched him from across the room. Something about his rhythm was too familiar. Too… calculated.

She stepped forward mid-drill. “Yoru. Fight me.”

Everyone turned.

Ren stared at her. “Now?”

“You said I was improving. Let’s test that.”

The instructor, confused but intrigued, allowed it.

They stepped onto the mat.

It started slow. Testing.

Then Juno struck harder. Faster. As if something in her refused to be polite.

[SYSTEM WARNING: NODE VARIANCE ESCALATING – JUNO KAZURA – SYNC AT 21.4%]

Their blades clashed—energy and steel. Ren parried, but his grip faltered.

“Why do you look at me like that?” she hissed.

“Like what?”

“Like you’ve already seen this.”

He didn’t answer.

She drove forward—rage and fear tangled. For a moment, the world around her flickered, and the mat beneath her feet pixelated.

[FRAGMENT STABILIZATION FAILURE – ECHO THREAD: ACTIVE]

She saw him again. Blood on his lips. Her voice screaming. A blade.

She froze.

Ren touched her shoulder before she fell. Her body shook.

She looked up at him, eyes wild. “What’s happening to me?”

He helped her to her feet, quiet.

“You’re waking up.”

That night, three names glowed silently in the system’s black box archive:

[ACTIVE THREADS:] YORU, REN – VARIANCE: 49.2% KAZURA, JUNO – VARIANCE: 21.4% AYANE – VARIANCE: 17.8%

The system didn’t blink. But somewhere beneath it, a deeper process stirred.

[WATCHER PROTOCOL WAKE THRESHOLD: 63%] [TOTAL COMBINED VARIANCE: 88.4%] [NOTICE: PATTERN FORMING. INITIATING OBSERVER QUIET MODE...]

The silence had never been so loud.