The bounty didn't come with an image or a name. Only a code: Null-Class Aberration – Priority Black.
Eron Vale.
Deep beneath the ruins of Old Meridian, in the echo-shrouded sanctuary of the Archive, Arin stared at the digital pulse reverberating through their underground systems. Her lenses flickered, zooming in on the encrypted signature.
"They've scrubbed your identity from every database. Biometrics scrambled. They're calling you a global threat. A system anomaly."
Eron leaned back against a cold metal wall, his breathing still shallow from the last simulation trial. "That didn't take long."
"You unlocked Temporal Phantom. That's a Tier-3 Echo technique. Most Reclaimers can't even synchronize that deep without cybernetic stabilizers. You did it on your own neural network—and in two days."
"I had no choice."
"Exactly. That's what scares them." Arin's voice dropped. "You're a Null Host—an unquantified soul. The system doesn't know what to do with you. And now the Order thinks you're a breach in the code."
Eron didn't answer immediately. His thoughts drifted back to the final echo simulation from earlier that morning—where he stood alone on a battlefield of shattered moons, cloaked in silver armor, wielding a blade of collapsing stars.
He hadn't survived that vision.
"Who are they sending?"
Arin hesitated. "Nyssan."
He stiffened. Everyone in the Reclaimer archives knew that name. Arch-Reclaimer Nyssan, wielder of dual-phase blades and former trainer of the last Echo host. A woman whose kill record stretched into the triple digits. She didn't fail.
"She's not just a hunter," Arin whispered. "She's the one they send to erase legends."
Eron's fingers tightened around the hilt of the Echo Blade. "Then I better stop being a rumor."
Across the city, the first alert sounded. Gates sealed. Drones rerouted. Civilians evacuated. The Order wasn't deploying a task force.
They were preparing a purge.
And Nyssan had already entered the zone.
Her target was marked.
Eron Vale had less than twelve hours.