Laik_Haq

In the aftermath of a viral apocalypse, Earth survives on unstable tech—virus-powered batteries and synthetic beings modeled after elves, vampires, werewolves, and dwarves. Created by a reclusive genius, these mythic machines have become part of daily life. But when a company employee vanishes, two elite prototypes—Elira and Fenrir—are sent to find him. What begins as a simple recovery spirals into a journey through ruined cities, rogue AIs, and buried truths. As shadows stir behind the code, the line between myth and machine begins to blur.

STRINGS OF THE MASTER : WHEN MYTH BECOMES REALITY

The echo of footsteps wasn't loud—but in the mechanical silence of Sublevel 7, it thundered through Elira's body like a war drum.

She turned on reflex, her optical sensors amplifying the darkness, slicing through the grainy air. Brakka dropped to one knee beside a console, fingers moving instinctively across half-functional circuitry.

A silhouette emerged, tall and slow, not in a rush. The servitor's frame was armored, matte black, reinforced at the shoulders. A dwarf-class unit—but not Virex standard.

Elira took a step forward. "Identify yourself."

The figure paused, then tilted its head in a curiously human gesture. "You shouldn't be here," it said. The voice was hollow, like wind through a metal pipe. "Neither of you."

"I could say the same," Brakka muttered, already wiring the panel for a backdoor route.

The figure raised a hand, but didn't attack. It simply… watched.

And then it said, "Your past is bleeding into your present, Commander. Choose your side wisely."

Before Elira could demand clarification, the figure backed into the shadows—and vanished.

A security loop. No trace left behind.

Brakka stood slowly. "Not Virex. Not anywhere in our logs. He was running an OS I've never seen."

They exchanged a look. The burned data cube in Elira's hand she got from Brakka pulsed once, syncing with her internal systems. The information downloaded in fragmented pulses. Strings of corrupted historical entries, unverified time stamps, and a header that made her spine seize:

Project Keystone – Cycle 03 Rebuild // Year: 0010

Every servitor knew Virex had been operational for five decades. It was a founding truth—etched into their creation, coded in onboarding scripts.

Brakka stepped closer. "The cube has traces of neural shadows. It was once part of a servitor's memory. Maybe one of the original test units."

Elira tried to remain steady. "This means... we've only been active for a fraction of what we've been told."

"And if that's true," Brakka said darkly, "then every mission, every alliance, every memory may be a lie."

Elira swallowed the rising fear. "Why show me this?"

Brakka hesitated. "Because something inside you is still yours. That's rare. I don't know why or how, but if you're not fully compromised yet—then you might be the only one who can do something about this."

He moved back to the lift controls. "You should go. Fenrir's going to tear this place apart if he senses you're gone much longer."

At the mention of Fenrir, Elira winced.

But her fingers tightened around the data cube.

As the lift re-engaged and the floor above slowly approached, her internal logs were already creating secure backup compartments—secret vaults even Dray's protocols wouldn't see.

Because she had seen the truth now.

Chapter 25 – Fractures