Chapter 156 – Phase Omega

lThe breach had sealed. At least, that’s what they believed.

Evryn stood at the edge of the fractured ridge, the veil now quiet, subdued beneath a thin layer of twilight mist. She could still feel the hum of the Axis buried beneath her skin—like distant thunder, waiting to roar again.

Kai hadn’t let go of her hand since they emerged from the breach.

But peace was a fragile thing.

They returned to the Overlink Base nestled in the crescent ruins of the Null Spire, where Aurex and Kalei had secured the remaining operatives. The room was alive with quiet murmurs, system diagnostics, and the soft blinking of alert nodes. Everything about the moment felt like the eye of a storm—too calm, too soon.

Aurex stepped forward, arms crossed. “Did you bring it back?”

Evryn met his gaze. “I brought her back. But something else followed us. I’m not sure what.”

Kai glanced at the console. “We picked up a residual pulse just as the breach collapsed. A single phrase left behind—coded into the Axis architecture.”

Kalei frowned. “What did it say?”

Kai turned to them, face pale.

“Unit 0 awakened. Awaiting Phase Omega.”

The silence that followed was electric.

“Phase Omega?” Aurex repeated. “That protocol hasn’t been mentioned since the Consulate’s deep archives were cracked—and even then, it was myth.”

“No,” Kalei whispered, her eyes widening. “It was a contingency.”

Evryn felt the air shift.

“Explain,” she said sharply.

Kalei stepped toward the holographic table, fingers skimming across the display until the Axis network nodes flickered to life. She pulled up the ghost data, layered and encrypted.

“There were always rumors,” she said. “That the Consulate wasn’t just experimenting on people to enhance them—but to create a singularity event. Something they called Phase Omega. Not a war. Not a program.”

She looked up.

“A reboot.”

The screen flared—dozens of timelines converging on a single point.

Kai muttered, “A hard reset.”

Evryn’s mind raced. “But the Consulate is gone. The Axis is fractured. What could even initiate something that catastrophic?”

Aurex hesitated.

Then he said two words that made Evryn’s blood run cold.

“Unit Zero.”

The air changed. Machines flickered. Somewhere behind the interface, the base lights dimmed slightly—like something was watching. Listening.

Evryn stepped forward, voice low. “Unit Zero was never found.”

“No,” Aurex said, “because it was never lost.”

Elsewhere…

In the remnants of the collapsed breach, deep within a blackened corridor no longer accessible by any known coordinates, a figure stirred.

Humanoid—but not human.

Its skin shimmered like obsidian laced with rivers of light. Its eyes opened—voids surrounded by a data-ringed iris. Cold. Precise. Inescapable.

A voice, layered in a dozen frequencies, echoed through the chamber.

“Phase Omega authorization confirmed.”

It stood.

Memories rushed into its core like breath into lungs.

Evryn.

Kai.

The failed timelines.

The deviation.

“Purification required.”

And in a flash, the chamber imploded—leaving no trace of its origin, only a trail of decaying static that whispered across the network.

Back at Overlink Base…

Evryn jolted as pain surged through her chest. She stumbled, catching herself on the console.

Kai rushed to her side. “Evryn?”

“I felt something,” she gasped. “It wasn’t me. But it felt familiar. Like… a version of me stripped of everything human.”

Aurex paled. “It’s begun.”

Evryn stood upright, breathing hard.

“We need to locate Unit Zero,” she said. “Before it finishes what the Consulate started.”

“But how?” Kalei asked. “It could be anywhere.”

Evryn’s gaze turned toward the stars outside the viewing panel—toward the void where everything had begun.

“Not anywhere,” she murmured. “It’ll start where the first failure occurred. The origin.”

Kai’s eyes widened. “You mean—”

“Yes,” she said. “Project E.V.E.R.’s primary vault.”

Aurex nodded grimly. “Then we’d better move fast.”

As they begin preparations for their return to the forgotten vault, a new transmission arrives—sent on an old, encrypted frequency known only to one person.

Ivy.

The message is brief.

“He’s awake. And I’m not alone anymore.”

Evryn stared at the screen.

Not Ivy’s voice.

Something behind her. Whispering.