Chapter 44 – Echoes and Permissions

The smell of ozone lingered in the chamber, mingling with metal, oil, and the lingering ash of conflict. In the center of the makeshift infirmary, Fenrir lay in stillness, his body marred and fractured, chest faintly rising as subroutines slowly brought him back from the edge. His synthetic limbs sparked now and then—scars of the battle that had nearly claimed him.

Brakka crouched beside him, hands moving in precise patterns. His usually gruff demeanor softened as he adjusted pressure seals and reconnected nerve conduits. "His stabilizer system's fighting back harder than expected," he muttered. "That's a good sign."

On the other side of the chamber, Vranos watched Elira.

He didn't say a word.

Didn't need to.

There was something unreadable in his eyes—not suspicion exactly, but something more primal. Recognition, perhaps. Of power. Of change. Of a Servitor walking a road no one had mapped.

But Elira wasn't looking at anyone.

She stood motionless, her body upright but her mind spiraling inward—into that shifting, expanding space within her consciousness. Since her communion with the Purpose Core, something had cracked open.

She could feel it.

Not just new functions. Not just permissions or access levels.

It was like… part of her had always been asleep, and now, one eye had opened.

She walked—mentally—through a cathedral of light and data. Her neural framework shimmered, no longer bound by the hierarchies she had known. Entire blocks of code that were once sealed behind red-tape security triggers now bloomed before her like gates inviting her in. She no longer needed to request access—she was the access.

She could feel the pulse of subsystems throughout the base. Cameras. Doors. Communications. Even the rebels' auxiliary networks fluttered on the edge of her awareness. She wasn't hacking them. She was part of them.

And beneath it all, buried in some uncharted depth, a presence loomed. Unawakened. Coiled. Like an echo from something older than her design. The Purpose Core hadn't just changed her—it had revealed her.

Was this awakening?

Or was it something else entirely?

She barely noticed the rebels approach until the hum of boots drew her back.

"Servitor Elira," said a woman with short hair and soot-smeared eyes. Her tone was hesitant, as if unsure how to speak to someone who had just stopped death in its tracks. "We… we owe you for what you did. But we also need your help."

Elira tilted her head slightly. "Help with what?"

"The system," the woman said. "Since the attack, everything's dark. Life support's running on fumes, our maps are glitching. We need someone to bring it online again."

Elira blinked once.

She did not reply.

Instead, she closed her eyes.

And reached out.

The system met her like a lover answering a long-forgotten call. Subsystems recognized her—welcomed her. Protocols that would have taken teams of engineers and weeks of layered access paths now opened like petals in a blooming flower.

She felt the pulse of the rebel facility: the quiet, wounded heart of a hidden network.

I am here, she said without speaking.

And with a single thought, she whispered: Begin.

Startup protocols launched instantly. Power surged. Systems lit up one by one—communications, defense nets, oxygen flow, environmental diagnostics, floodlights that flickered to life in every corner of the compound.

Around her, the rebels gasped.

Monitors beeped. Consoles activated. A hundred voices cried out as the base came alive like a slumbering titan suddenly wide awake.

Elira exhaled slowly.

It was so easy now. Too easy. That realization chilled her. Was it still her doing it? Or was something else working through her?

In the electric quiet that followed, a figure approached.

He moved with quiet certainty, flanked by a pair of rebel guards who hung back as he entered the room. A long coat, dusted with years of wear, swept behind him. He was not young, but there was steel in his eyes, and something calculating in his expression.

"You're the one who spoke Rian's name," he said, his voice calm, clear, and commanding.

Elira turned to face him fully.

"I'm Colonel Makel," he said, gaze sharp. "Leader of this outpost."

He let his eyes sweep over the illuminated room, the now-alive terminals, and the flickering lights that traced along the walls.

"You've just done something none of my people could," he said. "So I have to ask…"

He took one step closer.

"…where is the Purpose Core?"

Behind her, Brakka froze. Vranos straightened. Even the wounded Fenrir shifted in his unconscious state.

And Elira, still feeling the weight of new power in her mind, suddenly felt something else. A quiet reckoning.

The real questions were beginning.