Chapter 29 – Rebirth Protocol (Continued)

Ava’s POV

The air in the crypt shifted the moment the clone spoke—like the room itself inhaled, bracing for the inevitable. Damon kept his gun raised, his stance steady despite the dust and blood streaking down his cheek. Jackson slid a blade from his boot, the metallic scrape echoing through the cavernous chamber.

But Aria… she simply watched.

Not afraid.

Not surprised.

Almost… expectant.

The circle of figures stepped fully into the light, and my stomach twisted. They weren’t dressed in lab gear or sterile white uniforms like the other clones we encountered. They wore dark, reinforced suits threaded with pulsing lines of blue energy. Armor that looked grown, not built. Organic and alien all at once.

The one who looked like me tilted his head, studying me with a familiarity I hated.

"Version 3.0," he said softly. "Optimized for persistence. But flawed in loyalty."

My throat tightened. "I’m not part of your program."

"You are the program," he replied. "Your choices shaped the algorithm. Your resistance refined the parameters. Every failure you survived… became our blueprint."

Damon stepped forward, voice low with warning. "Try touching her. See what happens."

The clone’s smile widened. "Ah. Damon Shaw. Prototype defender. Loyal to a fault. Efficient in violence, even more efficient in denial."

Damon didn’t flinch, but I saw it—the tiny twitch in his jaw. The flicker of something he was trying hard to bury.

Jackson pointed his knife at the clones. "Okay, enough with the villain monologue. What’s the trial? And how fast can we win it so we can get the hell out of your sci-fi church?"

At that, all ten clones raised their heads in eerie synchronization.

Aria stepped between us, palms lifted. "Stop. The trial isn’t combat."

The Ava-clone’s eyes sharpened. "Correct. It is selection."

He pointed at me.

"Only one Ava Carter survives to Phase IV."

Damon swore under his breath. Jackson muttered something unprintable. My own heart slammed against my ribs.

I forced my voice steady. "There is no Phase IV. We’re ending this."

The clone laughed softly. Not mocking—almost… pitying.

"You misunderstand. You cannot end a cycle you didn’t create. You can only fulfill your role within it."

Behind him, the circular chamber began to glow. Symbols lit up along the walls—spirals, intersecting lines, sequences of numbers overlaid with… scripture?

The air hummed. The floor vibrated.

Aria slowly descended the steps into the center of the room.

"This is where it began," she said. "The original founders used this place to test the concept of continuity. To prove that identity could be perfected through replication. The Nexus was built after this. Eden is the end. But the Crypt… is the origin."

The Damon-clone—taller, broader, dangerous in a way that mirrored Damon’s worst days—stepped forward. His voice was gravel.

"One must ascend. The rest must be erased."

“No,” I said firmly. “We’re not playing your twisted game.”

But the chamber had already decided.

A ring of light sealed around us like a cage.

Damon grabbed my arm. "Ava—"

Too late.

The floor underneath us shifted, vibrating with a pulse that felt almost alive. And suddenly—

We weren’t in the crypt anymore.

---

Eden Simulation Chamber – Trial Environment Zero

I hit the ground hard, gravel scraping my palms. When I pushed myself up, I froze.

We were standing in a replica of the old safehouse.

The one that burned.

The one where Solace nearly killed me.

Smoke wafted from the windows, the faintest echo of flames flickering behind the curtains. Damon staggered up beside me, scanning the area.

"This is a memory," he whispered. "Yours."

Aria materialized a few feet away, though she wasn’t really there. More like a projection. A guide.

“This is the first layer,” she said. “The Trial of Repetition. The environment pulls your most destabilizing memories. You must endure what broke you the first time.”

My stomach sank. "And the clones?"

Aria nodded toward the burning doorway. "They experience the same environment. They will try to outlast you. Overcome you. Replace you."

Jackson cursed. "So we’re in a trauma arena."

“Essentially,” Aria replied.

Before I could respond, the Damon-clone appeared at the end of the hallway inside the safehouse, staring at me through the flames.

He didn’t look angry.

He looked hungry.

"Ava!" Damon grabbed my waist as gunfire erupted, bullets tearing through the burning doorframe. "Move!"

We dove behind the overturned couch. Splinters flew as bullets tore into the walls.

"This isn’t real!" I shouted.

"Yeah well," Jackson said, ducking behind debris, "the bullets feel pretty damn real!"

Damon grabbed his spare magazine. "We push to the kitchen. There’s more cover."

Before we could move, the Ava-clone stepped into view beside his Damon-clone. She was wrong. Hollow. Like someone wearing my skin without understanding the weight of it.

“Give up,” she called. “Your emotional variance weakens your output. You are not the optimal version.”

Damon growled. "I hate her already."

More gunfire erupted.

But something else happened then—something worse.

The room flickered.

For a split second… I saw another memory.

My mother’s face.

Her voice.

The night she disappeared.

“Ava,” Aria’s voice echoed. “The simulation is blending layers. You must stay anchored or the trial will consume you.”

The clones moved closer.

Damon grabbed my hand, squeezing hard. "Stay with me. Focus."

I nodded, breath shaking. "Let’s finish this."

We pushed forward, firing at the clones. Jackson flanked left, throwing a smoke charge that clouded the hallway. Damon covered me as I sprinted toward the kitchen doorway, heart pounding.

But halfway there—

The floor collapsed.

I plummeted into darkness.

---

Deep Simulation Layer – Trial of Identity

I landed on cold marble.

Wind cut through me like knives.

And when I opened my eyes…

I was standing in a hall of mirrors.

Dozens—no—hundreds.

Each reflection was me.

But not the same me.

Versions I recognized from nightmares. From past mistakes. From moments I buried. Moments I survived.

Blood-stained Ava.

Broken Ava.

Running Ava.

Ruthless Ava.

A voice whispered behind me, soft as silk.

“Identity is a mosaic. But mosaics crack.”

The Ava-clone stepped out from the shadows.

She didn’t smile this time.

"All you’ve ever done," she murmured, "is survive. But survival is not evolution."

She pressed her palm to a mirror.

My reflection inside twisted.

Warmer eyes.

Straighter posture.

Calm. Controlled. Cold.

“I am evolution.”

Suddenly all the reflections turned toward me. Hundreds of Avas staring like a jury.

I took a breath.

"You're wrong."

The clone blinked. "Explain."

"Survival is evolution. Because every scar, every failure, every breakdown—you can’t replicate those in a lab." I stepped closer. "You can copy my face. My skill. My memories. But you will never copy my will."

The clone’s eyes darkened.

The mirrors began to crack.

One by one.

Until the sound became deafening.

Shards fell, slicing the air.

I didn’t run.

I stood my ground as the chamber shook around us.

The clone let out a feral scream and charged at me—

But a hand shot out from behind and grabbed her by the throat.

Damon.

Bruised, bleeding, furious.

“You don’t get to touch her,” he snarled, hurling the clone backward.

Jackson appeared at his side, limping but alive. “You fall through one hole, we fall through the next. We stick together, remember?”

Aria materialized again, her voice calm.

“You’re nearing the end of the trial. One task remains.”

I wiped the blood from my lip. “Which is?”

Aria’s eyes glowed.

“You must confront the self you fear most.”

The floor rippled.

Another figure stepped forward.

Not a clone.

Not a projection.

Me.

The version I swore I’d never become.

Cold. Detached. Emotionless.

A leader

without mercy.

Aria whispered:

“Phase IV Candidate: Ava Carter—Shadow Variant.”

My blood ran cold.

Damon stood beside me.

Jackson drew his blade.

The Shadow-Ava smiled faintly.

“Let’s see,” she said softly, “if you’re worth surviving.”

---

To Be Continued…