Chapter 26 · The Memory Vault

"Don't touch anything."

Ada's hand stopped an inch from the glowing panel. The wall behind it looked organic now, veins of light pulsing under black glass. The whole vault felt alive.

"I wasn't going to," she said.

"Yeah, you were."

She turned. Victor stood by the entrance, rifle aimed low but ready. Blood still wet on his collar from killing his own face two rooms back. He hadn't wiped it off. Maybe he wanted her to see it.

"You shot yourself," Ada said. "That mess with your head yet?"

"Every damn day." He stepped closer, eyes on the panel. "But the copy's dead. I'm still here. That's the only math that matters."

The vault was small. Fifteen by fifteen, no exit except the way they came. The reset core sat in the center, a black sphere suspended in nothing, surface rippling like oil. Data streamed across the walls in fractured code. Ada caught fragments—loop counts, death timestamps, behavioral scores. Her own name flickered past. Victim count: 14. Psychological volatility: High.

"They've been scoring us," she said.

"Yeah." Victor moved to the opposite side of the core, keeping her in his periphery. "Whole time. Every kill. Every choice.