Ren Yoru knew he wasn’t going to survive the mission. It wasn’t instinct—it was inevitability. He’d read the patterns. The moment his unit received the suicide assignment to breach the Neo-Tokyo Citadel, he felt the end crawl along his spine like frostbite.

Yet still, he ran.

His boots pounded the pavement, skimming over shattered glass and debris. The sky bled crimson—artificial light pollution mixed with fire from the upper sector bombings. Smoke drifted through alleyways like specters, choking the air. Drones buzzed like wasps above rooftops, scanning, patrolling, executing. Explosions boomed in the distance. Somewhere far off, a siren wailed.

The city was screaming.

Ren's breaths came sharp and ragged, the filtered mask on his face barely keeping up with the toxic smog. Sirens screamed in the upper tiers. Civilians ran blindly beneath the glow of emergency lights, clutching children, belongings, fragments of lives already gone.

Neo-Tokyo had always been broken. But this—this was collapse.

The System had once called this timeline "unsalvageable."

“Ren! I’ve got the chip!”

Ayane’s voice cut through the chaos like a scalpel. She sprinted beside him, tiny and fast, clutching the encrypted data core to her chest. Only fifteen, and already marked by too many ghosts. Her silver eyes hadn’t yet dulled from war—but they would.

He glanced at her—just a flick of the eyes. She was pale. Breathing fast. Fear carved into every line of her face. He reached for her hand but didn’t slow down.

They darted into a side alley, narrowly dodging a collapsing surveillance tower. Screams echoed from the upper sectors. Civilians. Families. The Overmind had initiated the final purge.

Ren tapped the comm unit in his ear. “Team Delta, report!”

Only static answered.

Ayane stumbled. He caught her arm and steadied her.

“Where’s Juno?” she gasped.

Ren’s stomach knotted. “She was behind us. Covering evac.”

He didn’t mention the last glimpse he’d caught—Juno surrounded by servitors, firing wildly, her voice swallowed in a scream of white noise. She wasn’t coming.

A tremor rolled through the ground. Mech-sentries had landed.

They emerged from the smoke—two towering machines of obsidian alloy, sleek and segmented like spiders. Their red sensory arrays glowed like coals. One raised a plasma pike. The other locked on them with a rotating ion cannon.

Ren ignited his blade. Violet energy hissed down the edge. The hum of the blade vibrated in his bones.

“Ayane. Run.”

“I’m not—”

“Run!”

She hesitated. Eyes wide. Then she turned and sprinted, braid whipping behind her. Ren turned back to the mechs and raised his blade.

The first blow knocked him sideways. Sparks shrieked as metal met energy. He twisted midair, landed in a crouch, and parried a second strike. His muscles screamed. His heart thundered.

[ERROR: SYSTEM NOT DETECTED. CORE OFFLINE. NEURAL SYNC UNAVAILABLE.]

“Damn it,” he hissed. No interface. Not now.

His mind raced. The Echo System had always responded before. Why now—of all times—was it dark?

The mechs moved faster than he remembered. Smarter. One adjusted mid-swing, reading his dodge pattern. The next strike caught his ribs—he crashed through a trash silo and sprawled, coughing blood.

Still, he stood. Blade trembling in his grip. Memories surged—old lessons from a dozen missions, every battle etched into his bones.

The first time he killed. The first time he failed. The cost of both.

He couldn't fail now.

Another blow nearly tore the blade from his grip. He ducked, rolled, slashed wide—and missed.

One of the mechs stepped forward, raising its pike for a killing strike—

And still he stood. Broken. Bleeding. Not ready to give in.

He whispered a prayer to no one. Not to gods. Not to ghosts. Just to whatever force might hear him and give him five more seconds.

Then—

A familiar voice crackled through his comm.

“Stand down, Ren. This wasn’t part of the mission.”

Juno.

His breath caught. “You—”

“They only wanted the girl. You were expendable. You always were.” Her voice was cold. Clinical. "Just like your father."

The betrayal gutted him deeper than the blade that followed.

The mech lunged. Its plasma pike punched through his chest and pinned him to the alley wall.

Pain. White-hot. Paralyzing. He gasped, blood rising in his throat. His vision blurred. Lights fractured.

He could see Ayane—standing at the alley’s mouth, frozen. Screaming his name. Her voice didn’t reach him. Just her face—shock. Horror. Helplessness.

His fingers reached for her. Couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak.

He’d failed her. Again.

[REBOOTING… ERROR: HOST SYSTEM FAILED. CORE REACQUISITION IN PROGRESS… UNAUTHORIZED OVERRIDE DETECTED.]

White light exploded in his mind. Cold. Burning. Total.

[ECHO PROTOCOL: TEMPORAL ECHELON SYNCHRONIZER v0.1 BOOTING…]

[RETRIEVING NEURAL FRAMEWORK… RECONSTRUCTED.]

[MEMORY IMPRINT ACCEPTED. TEMPORAL STABILIZER ONLINE.]

DO YOU WISH TO OVERWRITE TIMELINE? Y/N

He couldn’t speak. Couldn’t move.

But inside, something screamed yes.

Memories surged backward—his childhood, his mother’s lullaby, his father’s execution, the ash-storm over Sector 5, Ayane’s tears as the drones dragged her away.

The moment the System bonded to him.

The day he first heard it speak.

The moment he realized he wasn’t the only one with an Echo.

He saw flashes—alternate outcomes, strange uniforms, enemies he hadn’t fought yet. Juno, crying instead of cold. Ayane, leading soldiers. A future that might’ve been, or could still be.

[Y INPUT DETECTED. INITIATING TEMPORAL OVERWRITE.]

[SYNCHRONIZATION: 3%... 9%... 27%... 46%... 63%... 78%...]

His soul peeled apart—each layer dissected, inspected, reforged.

Every nerve screamed. His past rewrote itself in real time.

Visions danced behind his eyes. A room of mirrors. A shattered time stream. A voice—his own—calling to someone he hadn’t met yet.

A thousand timelines. All wrong.

All ending with her death.

And one—just one—that could be different.

[WARNING: CROSS-TIMELINE CONVERGENCE DETECTED. MULTIPLE VERSIONS INBOUND. INITIATING PARADOX CONTAINMENT.]

[SYSTEM:] “Welcome back, Ren. This time… don’t die so easily.”