The rain had long since stopped, yet the scent of iron still hung thick in the air.
Smoke coiled above the battlefield like dying serpents, their bodies dissolving into the dawn. Reiji stood in the heart of the ruins—silent, blood dripping from his blade, the reflection of his own fractured image flickering in the broken steel before him.
The battle with Unit IX had ended, but its echo remained.
The mechanical corpse still twitched, sparks snapping across the metal bones as if it refused to die.
Reiji's breath was shallow, his muscles trembling—not from exhaustion, but from something colder, sharper. He had seen his own movements reflected in the enemy's strikes; the precision, the rhythm, the hesitation.
It wasn't just a copy of his fighting style—it was his memory, weaponized.
Kaede's voice broke through the static of the comm-link.
> "Reiji... you're still alive, aren't you?"
Her tone was steady, but beneath it lay a tremor—fear, disbelief, relief all at once.
> "Barely," Reiji answered, sliding his sword back into the scabbard. "They're learning faster. The Dominion's machines… they move like they've been taught by ghosts."
He walked toward the edge of the crater where Unit IX had fallen. The twisted machine hand still reached toward the sky, fingers locked in a gesture that resembled prayer. The sight unsettled him more than he wanted to admit.
Kaede appeared moments later, her cloak torn, eyes reflecting the pale blue glow of the damaged sky. The city around them—once a fortress—was now a graveyard of steel and silence. The war had shifted here, not in banners or speeches, but in the quiet hum of dying circuits and the whispers of those who refused to die.
> "We've lost contact with the southern front," Kaede said. "They're calling it The Iron Veil now. The Court's forces are burning through the districts—no survivors."
"And the Shadows?"
"Scattered. Some are retreating toward the old metro lines. Others… joined the Dominion."
Reiji's jaw tightened.
The world was collapsing faster than either side could control.
Shadows had once fought for silence—for the unseen balance between power and truth. But now, silence was all that remained—an empty promise echoing between the screams of the dying.
He turned toward the horizon. The faint glow of the Court's citadel burned like a false sunrise in the distance.
> "We move before nightfall," he said quietly.
"To where?"
"To the forge where these things were made. If Dominion can steal our memories, we take back what's left of ours."
Kaede hesitated, her eyes catching the faint reflection of his scarred face.
> "And if what's left isn't worth saving?"
"Then we burn it. The world doesn't need another echo."
The two moved through the shattered city. The sound of their footsteps mixed with the rhythm of falling debris—each step resonating with a metallic echo that made the ground feel alive.
Drones still circled above, searching for heat signatures, their lenses flashing like cold eyes in the dark. Reiji raised his blade, its edge catching the pale light as he cut through the nearest drone in a single motion.
It fell wordlessly, crashing into the wet asphalt.
The smell of oil and blood merged. The difference between the two had long since vanished.
As they approached the industrial sector, Kaede stopped suddenly. She knelt beside a fallen soldier—one of the Court's men. His armor was cracked open, but beneath it was not flesh, but gears—his face, however, was human. Or used to be.
Half of it was gone, replaced with a metallic framework.
> "They've started merging them," she whispered.
"The Dominion's doing more than building machines. They're erasing what it means to be human."
Reiji crouched beside her, pulling a data drive from the corpse's wrist implant. He wiped it against his sleeve, connecting it to his interface. The screen flickered to life, revealing fragmented files—schematics, neural patterns, combat simulations.
> "Operation ECHO," Reiji muttered. "They're recreating the consciousness of every fallen soldier. Cloning their instincts, their fears—turning memory into machinery."
Kaede's hands trembled slightly. "That means…"
> "Every time we kill one of them, we're feeding the cycle," Reiji interrupted. "Each death makes them stronger. Each silence becomes another song of steel."
The wind rose, carrying the distant hum of approaching engines. The metallic resonance vibrated through the ground like a heartbeat. Reiji stood, unsheathing his blade once more. His reflection danced in the blood-stained steel—one man facing an army of himself.
> "They're coming," Kaede said.
"Let them," Reiji replied. "I'm tired of fighting ghosts."
The machines arrived in formation—eight units, moving with inhuman grace, their faces hidden beneath mirrored masks.
Each held a blade identical to Reiji's.
They moved as one, their voices blending into a metallic chorus that spoke in fragmented echoes of his own tone.
> "Shinomiya Reiji," the lead unit said, voice distorted. "Protocol demands assimilation. Your memories will be preserved."
Reiji smirked bitterly. "I've already lost enough to memory."
The clash erupted in a thunderous explosion of sparks and steel.
Every movement was precise—a dance of violence performed under a dying sky.
Reiji moved between them like shadow incarnate, each strike calculated, his breathing synchronized with the rhythm of destruction. Sparks painted the walls red, each cut carving through reflections of himself.
Kaede covered his flank, her rifle's pulse shots tearing through two units before she rolled behind a fallen column.
> "You're surrounded!" she shouted.
"I know," Reiji grunted, deflecting another strike. "I'm not trying to win."
The final machine lunged—Reiji caught its blade mid-swing, twisting it and driving his own through the core.
It froze.
The mirrored face cracked, revealing his own reflection within the shards—bloodied, hollow-eyed, unrecognizable.
The silence after the battle was heavier than the sound of combat.
Kaede approached, stepping over the mechanical remains.
> "You said you weren't trying to win. Then what was this?"
Reiji looked down at the broken machines, their faces still reflecting the stormlight.
"A reminder," he said quietly. "That even steel has echoes. And we're the ones who left them behind."
He turned toward the distant horizon again—the forge awaited.
And beyond it, perhaps, the end of what it meant to be Reiji at all.