The forest shifted with an unnatural rhythm, like it remembered something I didn't. Trees that once stood crooked now leaned differently, shadows stretching in wrong directions. It wasn't the environment that had changed—at least, not entirely. It was my perception. The Echo Protocol was running in the background, low hum in my head, whispering data fragments through the corners of my thoughts.
I followed the mapped route to Zone 4: Survivor Simulation. The path led me beyond the ridge and through a corridor of bone-white trees, stripped bare of leaves. There were no birds. No insects. Even the wind seemed artificial—on a loop, repeating itself every thirty seconds.
At the edge of a circular clearing, I found the entrance. It looked like nothing more than a steel arch embedded into a cliff wall, pulsing faint blue around its edges. The same symbol from the obelisk hovered over the top—an eye with a split iris.
I stepped through.
Instant darkness.
Then light—searing white—followed by a cold snap like I'd fallen into ice water. My lungs locked up. My ears popped. And then I was standing… in a replica of the beach.
The one where I first woke up after the crash.
Same broken logs. Same emergency kit beside the rock. But it wasn't real. The air smelled wrong—like scorched plastic and old rain. I turned in a slow circle.
Then I saw him.
Me.
Ethan Wilder. Standing across the beach. Dressed the same. Moving the same. Staring straight back at me with eyes that didn't blink.
The simulation had begun.
I stepped forward cautiously, watching him mirror me. Every step. Every pause. But when I shifted slightly off-rhythm—he didn't. He watched. Waiting.
"Do you know who you are?" I asked.
He didn't answer. But he drew a knife—my knife—and held it low at his side.
The simulation wasn't passive.
It was a test.
I rushed him, closing the gap with my knife drawn, but the copy moved faster than any human should. A blur. I ducked just in time, the blade grazing my jacket as I rolled and came up behind him. Steel clashed. Sparks flew. The sound of my own breath echoed in my ears as we fought—not like predator and prey, but like synchronized dancers, each trying to break the rhythm.
Then the glitch came.
My copy hesitated—just a flicker. A twitch in his left eye.
I took the opening and slammed my elbow into his jaw, knocking him off balance. He hit the ground, hard. When I pressed my blade to his throat, he didn't flinch.
He smiled.
And spoke.
"You're not the original either."
I froze.
He dissolved into static. The beach pixelated, breaking into floating shards of white code. I stumbled back, breathing hard, watching as the false world collapsed.
When the simulation ended, I stood alone in a cold chamber, walls flickering with fading light. My XP surged, but the gain felt hollow. What had that copy meant?
Not the original?
I checked my vitals. Everything checked out. Heart rate. Memories. Scars.
Still me.
Unless… the island had backed me up. What if this Ethan wasn't the first to activate Echo Protocol? What if this Ethan was just the one who survived long enough to realize it?
The terminal at the edge of the chamber powered on. A new message blinked on the cracked display.
Simulation Complete.
Anomaly Detected.
Replication Sequence Interrupted.
Memory Fragment Recovered.
I pressed accept.
A video played—grainy footage, timestamped a week before the crash. A figure stood in a lab, facing away from the camera. I recognized the voice.
Mine.
"I don't trust them. If this works… if they upload the Echo, I want a kill switch. I want to remember I was human."
The feed cut.
I stared at the blank screen. My heart drummed loud in my ears.
Something deeper than survival had always been at play.
And I had just scratched the surface.
Level 12 Unlocked
—Cognition Boost: +10%
—New Trait Gained: Memory Echo – Allows recall of pre-crash data fragments during high-stress moments.
—Zone 5: Core Lockdown Vault unlocked.
I left the simulation chamber with a knife in one hand and a thousand questions clawing at my mind.
If I wasn't the first…
Was I the last?