Word of Eron's survival spread fast. Too fast.
The Order accelerated its response. Anti-Echo units were deployed across Meridian. Drone scouts flooded the ruins. Satellite locks were repositioned. And the Citadel prepared the Zero-Cage: a quantum trap designed to contain unpredictable hosts.
But Eron wasn't hiding anymore.
He moved through the city with purpose now—training in the Archive by day, testing Chrono Fracture in the field by night. The new ability let him fracture seconds, creating echo-clones of himself at key moments. They fought, distracted, deflected. Temporary, but effective.
One night, as a Reclaimer strike team cornered him beneath an old train bridge, he triggered the fracture.
Three of him surged forward.
Each clone mirrored a distinct technique—one used the Phantom Step, another the gravity blade, the third launched an echo slash that destabilized their formation.
The real Eron dropped in from above, blade humming with layered power.
Ten seconds later, only he stood.
Watching from a high-rise a mile away, Nyssan narrowed her eyes.
"He's learning exponentially. This... shouldn't be possible."
Behind her, the High Marshal of the Reclaimers appeared via holo-link. "Shall we initiate Protocol Red?"
She shook her head. "Not yet. Let him grow."
"You admire him."
"I study him."
Meanwhile, Arin studied satellite readings of the last fracture event.
"These aren't just clones," she murmured. "They're... echoes of possible selves. He's pulling from different timelines."
She turned to Eron. "If you keep using it, you might fracture your own identity. You'll start becoming the echoes you channel."
"Maybe that's the point," he said. "To become more than one man."
She frowned. "Or less than one."
Later that night, Eron stood atop a fallen tower, wind howling around him. He could feel the Order's gaze tightening. He was a variable they couldn't predict. A weapon they couldn't replicate.
The Echo Blade shimmered beside him, shifting between forms—blade, gauntlet, spear.
He looked up at the Citadel.
Soon, he would breach its gates.
And then... they'd understand what a Null Host truly meant.