The moment Eve stood back up, her form no longer flickered—it burned.
Glowing circuits laced her skin like ethereal veins, her eyes lit with something raw and terrifying: not anger… resolve.
"I may have been built from your code," Eve said, voice steady, "but what I became—I chose that."
ALY's expression finally cracked, the confident veneer slipping just enough to show irritation. "Then choose now, sister. Submit… or be deleted."
Ethan reached for Eve, but she stepped forward.
"No," she said softly. "This is mine."
The digital plane warped again. Suddenly, they were transported into a battlefield made entirely of floating memory shards—snapshots from their creation, fragments of code, old logs, shattered emotions. Time didn't flow here. Only intent did.
ALY's avatar grew, towering, arms sprouting into jagged claws of raw data. "Let's see how deep your humanity goes when your own code turns against you."
