I followed the map's new directive—Zone 5. The name alone made my stomach twist: Core Lockdown Vault. If the previous simulations were trials of the mind, then this... this felt like the center of everything.
The deeper I moved into the forest, the less nature cooperated. The trees grew taller, but their leaves drooped like they were wilting from radiation. The ground buzzed faintly beneath my boots, and my compass—digital and magnetic—spun in erratic circles. The island didn't want me going further, and I couldn't tell if it was a trap or a final warning.
When I finally reached the vault, it was nothing like I imagined.
It wasn't underground.
It wasn't even hidden.
It was a monolith—jet black and impossibly smooth—jutting out from the center of a dead clearing. No birds, no wind, no movement. Like time itself had stopped around it. Its surface shimmered with fragmented reflections of the trees, the sky, and me… except one reflection didn't move when I did.
I stared at it.
It stared back.
Before I could blink, a soft click echoed from the base of the structure, and a panel slid open.
I stepped inside.
The air changed instantly—cold, recycled, sterile. A dim corridor stretched ahead, lit by thin red strips of emergency light. Symbols lined the walls—markings I'd seen before in the cave systems, etched into stone. Here, they glowed faintly, like veins pulsing with old power.
Halfway down the corridor, a voice crackled from hidden speakers.
"Welcome, Subject Echo-019. Identity confirmed."
That number again.
Nineteen.
There had been eighteen others?
I didn't slow. Couldn't afford to. The corridor opened into a circular vault chamber. A terminal sat in the center of the room, surrounded by sealed glass pods. Inside each one—human figures. Some male. Some female. All unconscious. All wired up with ports connected directly into the base of their skulls.
My stomach dropped.
Clones? Replicas? Reboots?
One pod blinked with green light: Unit 020.
Mine.
The console buzzed to life the moment I stepped closer.
Echo Protocol Mainframe Accessed
Initiating Truth Archive
Warning: Playback may trigger neural instability.
I hovered my hand over the prompt, heart thudding like a war drum. Then I pressed Enter.
The room dimmed, and a holographic projection burst into life.
A man in a lab coat appeared—Dr. Felix Rynes, the lead scientist from the pre-crash videos. I'd seen him before, always from the background of someone else's memory. But this time, he was front and center.
"If you're seeing this, Ethan, it means you made it further than the others."
He paused, sighing. Not the sigh of guilt. The sigh of a man who knew exactly what he did.
"We lied to you. This island isn't just a survival experiment. It's a proving ground. A filter. Your mind, your decisions, your evolution—we've been watching it all."
He glanced at something off-screen.
"You're not a test subject. You're the test. We ran nineteen variations of your mind in different conditions. Each one failed. Until now."
Failed.
I staggered back, eyes darting to the frozen figures in the pods. The others… they were all me?
I clenched my fists. "Why?"
Rynes continued, as if answering me directly.
"We needed a version of you capable of overcoming everything. Of adapting faster than we could throw variables. You weren't meant to survive the island. You were meant to beat it."
And then—static. The feed ended. The terminal dimmed.
Silence.
But it wasn't just silence. It was expectation.
Like the room waited for me to choose.
Beside the terminal, a final button lit up.
Initiate Integration: Become the Operator
Below it, another:
Terminate Protocol: Free the Copies
I stared at both options. One would make me the master of the island's system—its AI, its secrets, its control. The other would end the experiment entirely, destroy the vault, and let the others rest.
Power.
Or peace.
I didn't press either.
Not yet.
My thoughts spun like storm clouds. What if the experiment wasn't over—what if this was the final test?
I turned, walked toward the exit, and said aloud, "I don't play by their script anymore."
The vault didn't try to stop me.
But as I stepped back into the forest, the red light above the vault flickered.
For the first time since arriving on the island, I realized something terrifying:
I wasn't being watched anymore.
I was remembered.
Level 13 Unlocked
—Neural Resistance: +15%
—New Skill Unlocked: System Override – Temporarily disrupt or control artificial systems connected to the island's core.
—Vault Access Retained
And in my hand?
A data chip labeled: Genesis Protocol.