The projected Tassio, rendered in shimmering blue light, stared back with an unsettling calm. His actual counterpart, Tassio Velt, experienced something unfamiliar: recognition, not of the face, but of the cold calculation behind it. [Memory Fragment: Initiating Core Protocol. Security Override: Builder Identity Confirmed.] Images flooded his mind, not like a torrent, but a slow, deliberate reconstruction. Not just flashes, but full sensory data: the chill of distant nebulae, the hum of titanic machinery, the calculated despair of a desperate last resort. He saw himself, younger, sharper, consumed by a singular, terrible vision. “What is this?” Vellera stepped closer to the blue beam, her fingers tightening on her sidearm. Jorlan stood still, a shadow against the humming servers, his gaze fixed intently on Tassio. [Archival Data: Project Chronos. Final Stage: Planetary Core Detonation. Purpose: Containment Breach Lockdown. Target: Abyssal Lords – All dimensions. Estimated Efficacy: 99.8% planetary destruction. 100% Abyssal Lord containment via temporal displacement and void collapse.] Tassio swayed against the console. The memories solidified into a grim scheme. This wasn't a defensive shield. It was a world-scale fuse, designed to immolate Kravos, incinerate the breach lords with it, and ensure nothing survived. A final, absolute sacrifice. “The Spire of Ghol,” Tassio rasped, his throat dry. “It wasn’t a cryo-bunker. It was the primer. Me… I was the firing pin.” He looked at the light-cast statue, at his own serene, ancient face, and saw not heroism, but cold, terrifying pragmatism. Vellera recoiled, unholstering her pistol halfway. “A primer? You built this world’s defense to *destroy* it? To crack Kravos in two?” Disbelief clipped her words. “You engineered mass annihilation, and then you just… went to sleep?” Tassio met her glare, his posture sagging. “It was the only way to ensure they couldn’t anchor here. To reset the board. A failsafe.” He remembered the old logic, the shouted arguments across council tables, the final, isolated decision. “A failsafe?” Vellera’s voice sharpened into a roar. “People live here! My family, my squad! They’re fighting out there right now, while you planned to just blow us all into stardust?” She yanked her sidearm free, the heavy clang echoing in the data-hub. The barrel, still warm from recent use, pointed steadily at Tassio’s chest. “Tell me it’s a lie.” Tassio sighed, a sound of profound weariness. “I didn’t just wake up to plan for the end of everything today, Vellera. I’ve been trying to nap through it for centuries.” He rubbed his temples. “Look, it was a last resort. The absolute last.” He watched her finger tighten on the trigger. He was too tired for this. Too tired to explain global triage to someone who, understandably, only saw betrayal. From his cybernetic forearm plating, a thin, whip-like tendon of dark, segmented alloy whipped out before she could squeeze. The cyber-tentacle wrapped around Vellera’s wrist, applying a precise, non-lethal pressure. Her grip loosened, and the heavy sidearm clattered to the floor, skittering across the grimy metal plates. She stared down at the metallic tendril, then up at Tassio, breath hissing through her teeth in pure fury. [Mortis-Engine: Kinetic Manipulation Protocol. Success. Threat neutralized.] “I’m too exhausted for debates right now,” Tassio mumbled, retracting the tentacle. “We need to find a way to stop my past self’s terrible idea.” Jorlan, who had remained silent, took a step forward. A thin smile cut across his mouth. “Oh, you really don’t, old builder.” Before Vellera could turn, the scout lunged. His hand drove forward into Vellera’s back, between her shoulder blades, the vibro-blade catching the pale luminescence of the room. A choked sound tore from Vellera’s throat as metal split flesh and rib. She stared down at the point protruding through her sternum. “You…” she gurgled, blood blooming quickly across the worn fabric of her uniform. Jorlan laughed, a harsh, guttural sound that grated against the hum of the servers. “Did you really think I was just a lucky survivor?” He yanked the blade free, a spray of crimson following its retreat. “Our masters don't want your core cracked, old maker. They need it intact. A permanent anchor, a bridge between dimensions. Your old plan was a temporary inconvenience for them, not a solution.” Vellera staggered, her knees buckling. Jorlan’s foot shot out, connecting with her chest. She flew backward, a broken doll, sailing through the air. Behind her, the wall gave way to the swirling violet-black void of a spatial rift, tearing open where the chassis had been compromised. With a final, desperate gasp, Vellera plunged into the screaming void, her form instantly consumed by the tearing fabric of reality. The rift pulsed, then began to shrink, sealing itself with a sickening wet sound. “Catch you later!” Jorlan chirped, teeth flashing in the gloom. He turned, vanishing through a ruptured conduit in the bulkhead, leaving Tassio alone in the humming chamber, the projected likeness still serene above him. Outside, the bedrock of Kravos shuddered. A colossal, multi-limbed titan forged of jagged obsidian and glowing rivulets of molten void-stuff burst through the ruined street, its roar rattling the floor beneath Tassio's boots.

The Architect's Suicide