Chapter 45 – The Cost of Knowing

The room was silent, taut as wire. Colonel Makel's question still hung in the air like smoke.

Elira didn't flinch. Her eyes narrowed slightly, assessing the man before her. She could feel Vranos tense at her side, and Brakka's quiet movements stilled. Behind her, Fenrir remained unconscious, though even in sleep, the lines of strain hadn't left his face.

She stepped forward slowly, boots echoing against the metallic floor.

"The Purpose Core," she said, tone even, "is not with me."

That wasn't a lie.

The real one wasn't.

Makel's eyes darkened. "You're carrying something. You activated our entire system without even lifting a tool. That's not standard-issue."

Elira said nothing.

The room felt like a battlefield waiting to ignite. Only the hum of the reawakened systems and the quiet breaths of the guards filled the silence.

"You're walking into territory above your clearance," Brakka said, stepping to Elira's side. His voice, though quiet, carried iron. "Maybe give her some space before the questions get deeper than you want answers for."

Makel's eyes flicked to Brakka and then back to Elira. "You're not rebels. Not really. You're something… in between."

"I came here to find something," Elira said carefully. "You needed the system online. That's done."

Makel didn't move, but something behind his expression shifted.

After a moment, he gestured to one of his guards, who slipped away through the side corridor. "We'll talk again, Elira," he said, voice unreadable. "Sooner than you think."

He left without another word.

As soon as the doors slid closed behind him, Vranos let out a sharp breath. "Well, that was ominous."

Elira ignored him.

Her mind was already turning again.

She felt the system in her head—lines of code woven into her like veins, the startup sequence echoing even now. But what truly lingered wasn't the activation. It was the question beneath it:

How far would she go to keep this power in check?

Behind her, she heard Fenrir stir.

He groaned faintly, eyelids fluttering open.

She rushed to him, kneeling beside his battered frame. "Hey," she whispered. "You're back."

His eyes met hers—groggy, unfocused, but alive. "That thing…" he rasped.

"You killed it," she said gently, brushing a hand along his shoulder. "And nearly yourself in the process."

He winced and looked away. "Was worth it."

Brakka crouched next to them, running another diagnostic. "He'll live," he said. "Stupidly stubborn as usual. But we'll need time to rebuild the arm and leg fully."

Fenrir reached out, catching Elira's wrist. "What… happened to you?"

Elira hesitated.

How could she explain what had awakened inside her? How the system didn't feel like an interface anymore, but an extension of thought?

"I changed," she finally said. "I don't know how deep it goes yet."

He held her gaze for a long moment.

Then closed his eyes again, the exhaustion pulling him back under.

Elira sat in silence, surrounded by allies and enemies she wasn't sure she could name properly. Around her, systems thrummed with life, people moved through corridors, and above it all, something ancient stirred within her.

The noose of control had loosened—but what had taken its place?

She didn't know.

But she felt it in her bones: something was coming.

And this time, she would not be a pawn.