Life after the Glitch Beast incident and my little 'system error' display in the arena got… tense. Really tense. The academy Director, I learned her name was Director Evelyn Thorne, seemed to have me under a microscopic lens. I felt her eyes on me constantly, even when she wasn't physically present. It was like a chill down my spine. The faculty started treating me with a mix of fear and forced professionalism, like I was a wild animal they had to manage. They mostly avoided direct contact, probably terrified I'd accidentally "rewrite" their coffee into pure acid or something.
Varn, of course, was having the time of his life. He'd fully recovered from his injuries, thanks to my impulsive Rewrite (which nearly destroyed the academy, but hey, details). He'd just smirk whenever a drone hovered too close. "See, Glitch-Boy? You're a legend now. The Glitch King." He kept calling me that, ever since the beast knelt. Reo, though, was less amused. He just wanted to fight, to make sense of this messed-up world by punching it. He was still pissed about being labeled a "failed transfer" and was convinced the whole academy was just a big cage.
The official tournament, "Path to Apex," was looming. It was supposed to be the ultimate test, the gateway to Layer Apex for the "worthy" Ascendants. But after what we found in Project Chimera, and after the Director's creepy ultimatum, I knew it was a trap. It felt less like a competition and more like… a culling. Or maybe, a ritual.
"This 'Path to Apex' thing, it's not what they say it is," I told Varn and Reo one night, as we sat hunched over some stolen academy schematics. "It's a funnel. They're selecting something, but it's not the strongest. It's the ones they can control."
Varn nodded, his heterochromatic eyes glinting. "Precisely. The Helix Dome, where I came from, they were all about 'optimizing' subjects. Eliminating variables. This academy isn't that different. It's just… prettier."
Reo slammed his fist on the table. "So what do we do? Just let them use us? Let them 'integrate' you or 'destroy' you?"
"No," I said, my voice low. "We play along. But we learn. We find the real exit. Or we tear it down from the inside." My Ascension Protocol hummed, a low, powerful thrum in my chest. It felt like it was ready for something big, something disruptive.
The "Path to Apex" tournament finally began. It was a spectacle of power. One hundred participants, all hand-picked, the best of the best from various guilds and academies. The arena was even bigger, filled with swirling elemental magic, summoned entities, and blinding flashes of light. Most of them were "Commonborn" from Layer Rise, but there were also a few "Codebearers" and "Ascendants" in disguise, testing their might. I felt a strange calm. This was it.
My first match was against a guy named Lyra. Not Lyra, the Glitchborn from the files, but some high-ranking mage, all flashy spells and arrogance. He used "Contracted Entities" – glowing, ethereal beings he could summon – and bragged about his extensive "Skill Set Tree." He talked a big game, calling me an "unstable anomaly" and threatening to "correct" me.
The bell rang. Lyra unleashed a torrent of fireballs, each one singing with raw magical energy. He wasn't subtle. He was all about overwhelming force.
I didn't dodge. I let the first fireball connect. It was a massive hit, sending me skidding back, the heat searing my uniform. The crowd gasped, probably thinking I was done for. But I was just buying time, activating my Ascension Protocol.
[Ascension Protocol: Copying Opponent's Ability - 1%... 5%... 10%...]
[Ability Copied: Elemental Affinity (Fire) - Temporary Access]
A faint heat, similar to Drax's, blossomed around me. Lyra laughed. "You think copying a tiny bit of my power will save you, Glitchborn? Pitiful!"
"I'm not copying it to fight you with fire," I said, my voice strained. "I'm copying it to understand it." My eyes, glowing blue, were fixated on the subtle lines of magic energy around him, the code of his elemental spells.
He unleashed another volley, even bigger. This time, I didn't just take the hit. I used my Void Rewrite with a new tactic: "Rewrite Delay." I didn't stop the attack, or change its trajectory. I simply tweaked the timing of its effect. As the fireballs slammed into me, their impact, their heat, their force, all registered a crucial fraction of a second later than they actually connected. To observers, it looked like I was taking the full hit, stumbling, grunting. But in that crucial fraction of a second, before the pain fully registered, I was already analyzing, adapting. It was like experiencing the hit in slow motion, giving me time to mentally prepare for the next.
Lyra was confused. "Why aren't you falling?!"
"Because your hits aren't hitting me when you think they are," I responded, pushing through the delayed pain. I charged forward, dodging a few follow-up spells, my temporary "Elemental Affinity" subtly disrupting his own fire, making it sputter and lose power. Then, as he prepared a massive, arena-clearing spell, I moved. Fast.
My Void Rewrite shifted to his 'Concentration' stat, causing a momentary, almost imperceptible flicker in his focus. He flinched. His spell misfired, exploding harmlessly away from me. Then, I targeted the very code of his Contracted Entity, making its connection to him momentarily unstable. It shimmered, flickered, and then dissolved, leaving him without his main weapon.
He looked absolutely stunned, standing there with empty hands. I didn't need to land a physical blow. His system was compromised. His confidence shattered. "Winner: Kael Serian!" the instructor reluctantly announced, the words laced with frustration.
The Path to Apex was a brutal gauntlet. Every match was a test of my unique abilities. I couldn't rely on brute force like Reo, or complex manipulations like Varn. I had to be a silent killer, a precise surgeon of reality. I often faced students who were stronger, faster, more experienced in conventional combat. But I used Void Rewrite to disrupt their balance, subtly alter the density of the air around them, or even briefly 'corrupt' their memory of a skill's activation, causing them to falter.
During one fight, a powerful Codebearer tried to use "Code Erasure" on me, attempting to delete my existence from the system. I felt a terrifying pull, like my very being was unraveling. But my Ascension Protocol flared, pushing back. The Codex in my mind pulsed, showing me the counter-code, the hidden 'restore point' within their own system. I didn't erase his ability. Instead, I subtly rewrote his connection to the system itself, causing his Erasure ability to temporarily misfire, turning it back on him for a fraction of a second, causing him to stagger, weakened. It was terrifying, seeing a glimpse of the true power of my ability.
My wins weren't flashy, but they were devastatingly effective. They called me "The Rewritten One". The other students started giving me a wide berth, whispering about how I was cursed, or possessed. Sera Eynhart, the elegant but brutal heroine from Lumen Astra, watched my matches with a calculating intensity. She was a prodigy, a force of nature, embodying the ideal of the "Ascendant." She probably despised everything I represented.
As I progressed through the tournament, the academy's hidden agenda became clearer. This wasn't just a competition; it was a systematic ritual. Each stage, each challenge, was designed to test not just power, but obedience, and conformity to the system. Those who deviated, those who showed signs of anomaly, were quietly "removed" or "re-educated." I saw it happening to other students who lost, or who simply displayed too much individuality. They vanished.
Then came the final arc of Season 1: the "Awakening of Codex."
I had made it to the final stage of the Path to Apex tournament. Only ten of us remained, including Sera Eynhart, a few other top-ranked students, and, surprisingly, Varn and Reo. Varn had manipulated his way through, creating chaos and exploiting every loophole. Reo had simply out-fought everyone with sheer determination. We were the "team of anomalies."
The final challenge wasn't in the arena. It was in a hidden chamber deep beneath the academy, a place saturated with old, raw system energy. There, Director Thorne, along with several robed figures—some of them high-ranking Ascendants, Void Lords in training perhaps—stood before us.
"Kael Serian," Director Thorne's voice echoed in the cavernous space. "Your Ascension Protocol is unique. Dangerous. It holds the power of Protocol Zero, the system that governs all reality." She gestured to a shimmering, ethereal projection in the center of the room—a pulsing, complex web of light. "This is the 'Codex Vault,' a library of existence. Whoever accesses it can alter reality itself."
My Codex in my mind pulsed in response, almost vibrating. It was like a key fitting into a lock.
"You have a choice," Thorne continued, her eyes unblinking. "You can allow us to integrate your Protocol into the main system. Your power will be stabilized, controlled. You will become a valuable asset, a guardian of the new order." She paused. "Or, your Protocol will be deemed too unstable, too dangerous. It will be 'reset,' and you… will be erased." The threat of erasure was chilling, something Eldrin Voss used as his main power.
This wasn't a choice; it was a demand for subservience. They wanted to neuter my ability, to turn me into their pawn. Or, if I refused, delete me.
My gaze flickered to Varn, who gave me a subtle, almost imperceptible shake of his head. Then to Reo, whose fists were clenched, ready to fight anything.
I thought of Layer Null, of the glitch beasts calling me "King." I thought of Project Chimera, of my name on that list, of all the "failed experiments" they had discarded. I thought of the Architect's lost message: "This system was not created to make humans strong. But to see who could surpass God's design." And I knew.
"I choose to fight," I said, my voice steady, echoing in the chamber. "I won't be integrated. And I won't be erased."
A ripple of shock went through the robed figures. Director Thorne's face hardened. "Then you choose destruction, Glitchborn. The 'Path to Apex' is not just a tournament. It is a ritual of systemic sacrifice. Those who defy… become the fuel."
Suddenly, the ethereal projection of the Codex Vault flared, pulsing with raw, uncontrolled energy. Alarms blared, louder than anything I'd heard before. The entire chamber began to shake violently. The very air warped and distorted.
"What's happening?!" one of the robed figures cried out, their composure cracking.
Thorne's eyes widened in horror. "He... he activated it! The Protocol is exploding! It's not integrating... it's rewriting!"
My Ascension Protocol wasn't just humming anymore; it was roaring, a tempest of raw power within me. The Codex in my mind was no longer just a manual; it was a tool, a weapon. I wasn't just influencing reality locally. I was affecting the entire chamber, the entire system. I felt a surge of energy, a profound connection to the core of Arkinexus.
The chamber began to crack, massive fissures spreading across the walls and ceiling. The ground buckled. The very air around me shimmered, distorting, like a thousand television screens all flickering at once.
My Ascension Protocol exploded outwards, a wave of raw, rewriting energy. It didn't just affect the chamber; it seemed to reach out, to touch the very core of the system itself. I wasn't just fighting in a tournament. I was detonating a bomb at the heart of their ordered reality.
The light engulfed everything, blinding and deafening. I felt Varn and Reo nearby, their cries lost in the roar. And then, a sensation of being torn, of reality unraveling, like a tapestry being pulled apart thread by thread. The world turned to a chaotic kaleidoscope of colors and sounds, twisting and fracturing.
When the light finally faded, everything was different. The chamber, the academy, the world. It felt… wrong. Altered. I felt a profound sense of disorientation. The air, the colors, even the silence was different.
I was back in Nexus Academy, but it wasn't the same. The buildings seemed slightly off, the air had a different taste. I saw Varn and Reo, standing nearby, looking just as confused. They looked at me, and I looked at them.
Then, Reo spoke, his voice hesitant. "Hey... who are you guys? And where are we?"
Varn just looked at me blankly, his mismatched eyes showing no recognition. "I... I don't know you. Where's Helix Dome? What happened?"
My heart plummeted. My Ascension Protocol had exploded. It had rewritten reality. And in doing so, it had changed everything. The people I knew, the bonds I'd forged, the journey we'd shared. It was all gone. They didn't remember me at all.
I was back. But the world… the world had been rewritten. And I was the only one who remembered.
Thoughts on the environment and Kael's feelings:
This chapter was all about building up the tension to that climactic moment. The Director's constant surveillance, the escalating sense of being a lab rat – it all pushes Kael closer to the edge. The "Path to Apex" is clearly presented as a rigged game, not a fair fight, but a system designed to control or eliminate. This reinforces Kael's deep-seated distrust of authority and his role as an "underdog MC".
The specific Rewrite tactics I used in the fight (Rewrite Delay, messing with Concentration, destabilizing Contracted Entities) show Kael's growing mastery and intelligence. He's not just powerful; he's strategic and analytical, traits mentioned in his character description. The brief, terrifying glimpse of "Code Erasure" attempting to delete him really ups the stakes and foreshadows a direct conflict with Eldrin Voss later.
The "Awakening of Codex" is the pivotal moment. It confirms Kael's connection to Protocol Zero and the Codex Vault. The Director's ultimatum forces his hand, making him choose between subservience and all-out rebellion. His choice to "fight" isn't just about winning a tournament; it's about rejecting the system's control entirely. The "ritual of systemic sacrifice" and the idea of "becoming the fuel" really highlight the dark fantasy elements and the brutality of this world.
The explosion of his Ascension Protocol and the subsequent reality rewrite is the big season finale cliffhanger. The immediate consequence – his friends not remembering him – is a devastating blow, isolating him completely. This sets up the core theme for Season 2: Kael's lonely quest to uncover the truth of the system and potentially restore what he lost, amidst a world that doesn't even know he exists in the way he remembers. It transforms him from a glitch fighting for survival into a true "Rewritten One", burdened with a terrifying secret. The tagline "When the system failed to pick a winner, a glitch was born that would destroy it" feels incredibly apt here.