They found the second settlement at dusk.
Unlike the first, this one was intact.
Lights were on. Barricades held. Watchtowers stood manned with rifles and spotlights sweeping the dunes. From a distance, it looked like survival had won this time.
Kael felt the shard stir—faint, uneasy.
Mira noticed. "You feel that too?"
He nodded. "They're close."
Rae checked her instruments. "Multiple resonance signatures ahead. Human. Armed."
Kael slowed. "We warn them."
They didn't make it halfway.
A low hum rolled across the sand—soft, even, controlled. The spotlights flickered, then steadied, their beams bending slightly as if refracted through glass.
Figures emerged from the dark.
Echo Hunters.
More than before.
They didn't hide. They didn't rush.
They arrived.
The settlement noticed immediately.
Shouts rang out. Weapons came up. Someone fired a warning shot that curved mid-air and embedded itself harmlessly into a wall.
The Hunters stopped at the perimeter.
One stepped forward.
Different armor this time—denser, layered with additional glyphs. A senior unit.
"Settlement designation?" the Hunter asked calmly.
A man on the wall shouted back. "This is Greyline Post! State your—"
The Hunter raised one hand.
Silence collapsed inward.
Not vanished—compressed.
The man's words died in his throat. His mouth moved, but nothing came out. He clawed at his neck, panic spreading across his face.
Kael flinched. "Stop!"
The Hunter didn't look at him.
"Calibration phase one," it said, voice carrying effortlessly. "Stimulus: fear."
The silence released.
Sound rushed back violently. The man collapsed, gasping, sobbing.
The Hunters shifted positions. Not randomly. Precisely.
Mira whispered, "They're mapping responses."
Rae's voice shook. "They're testing thresholds. Psychological first."
Kael stepped forward, ignoring the ache in his chest. "You said you don't destroy variables until you understand them."
The Hunter turned its head toward him.
"Correct."
"Then this settlement isn't the variable," Kael said. "I am."
The Hunter considered that.
"Partial accuracy," it replied. "You are a mobile variable. They are a static sample."
Kael's blood went cold.
Before he could speak again, the Hunter gestured.
The ground inside the settlement shimmered.
Shapes rose.
Not mimics.
Not silence-born.
People.
Residents—frozen mid-motion, outlines glowing faintly. Echo-duplicates pulled directly from the settlement's own resonance imprint.
The copies moved.
The originals screamed.
Kael felt sick. "You're making them fight themselves."
"Incorrect," the Hunter said. "We are measuring identity collapse under mirrored stress."
Mira swore and raised her rifle. "That's enough."
The Hunter looked at her.
"Interference noted," it said.
One of the duplicates lunged. A real man fired—his bullet struck his own reflection, and both collapsed, convulsing as resonance fed back violently.
Kael shouted, "Stop the calibration!"
The Hunter tilted its head.
"Calibration nearing completion," it said. "Destruction imminent."
Kael moved without thinking.
He reached for resonance.
The silence recoiled.
Pain tore through him—white-hot, blinding. He dropped to one knee, choking as static roared in his ears.
Ashveil's voice cut through, sharp.
"You cannot intervene. You are empty."
"I don't care," Kael gasped. "Make it work."
"I cannot violate the field's denial," Ashveil replied. "Only redirect consequence."
"What does that mean?!"
The Hunter watched, fascinated.
"Subject attempts forced output while saturated," it noted. "Observe failure mode."
Kael screamed—not in rage, but refusal.
The shard flared weakly.
Not outward.
Inward.
The resonance backlash didn't strike the Hunters.
It struck the echoes.
Every duplicate flickered violently, destabilizing as Kael's misaligned resonance tore through the copied patterns. The mirrored figures collapsed into static light, dissolving back into the ground.
The settlement fell silent.
The Hunter paused.
Then slowly turned its head back toward Kael.
"Unexpected interaction," it said. "Variable exhibits resistance under denial."
Mira stared at Kael. "You okay?"
He shook his head weakly. "No."
The Hunter raised one hand.
For a heartbeat, Kael thought it would kill him.
Instead—
"Calibration incomplete," it said.
"Destruction postponed."
The Hunters stepped back.
The hum faded.
They vanished into the dark as cleanly as they had arrived.
No one cheered.
No one spoke.
The settlement stood—damaged, shaken, alive.
A woman approached Kael, eyes red. "They… they were going to kill us."
Kael couldn't meet her gaze. "I know."
"Why didn't they?"
He swallowed. "Because I made them curious."
That didn't feel like a victory.
That night, Kael sat apart from the others.
His hands wouldn't stop shaking. His head throbbed dully, like something inside was bruised.
"They'll come back," he said quietly.
Mira nodded. "Yeah."
"They'll finish calibration," Rae added. "And next time…"
"Next time," Ashveil said softly,
"They will not postpone."
Kael stared into the darkness.
The Echo Hunters had rules.
And now he knew the worst one.
They didn't kill out of hatred.
They killed when learning was complete.