Chapter 63: Purpose Undefined

The lab was silent except for the steady hum of containment fields. Within the chamber, the Purpose Core pulsed behind thick glass—glowing softly, golden, waiting.

The scientist stood beside it, hands clasped behind his back, as Elira and Fenrir watched.

He turned to her.

"Elira. Tell me what you know about the Virus."

She took a slow breath, recalling the twisted corpses in Siberia. "It infects servitors. It hijacks their systems. Makes them more powerful, but unstable. Eventually uncontrollable."

"And?" the scientist pressed.

"It spreads. It turns everything it touches into itself."

"Correct," he nodded. "But you missed the most important part: Why does it spread?"

She frowned. "To dominate. Take over systems. Machines. Networks. The world."

The scientist looked at her sharply. "That's what I thought. And that… is why I removed its Purpose."

Elira stiffened. "What?"

"The Virus," he said quietly, "is older than Virex. Its origin is... still unknown. What we do know is that it doesn't simply destroy. It amplifies. It takes whatever foundation it finds—and magnifies it beyond control."

He gestured to the Purpose Core.

"I fragmented it. Contained its force by distributing it into four conceptual cores: Memory, Control, Pattern—" his gaze rested on her, "—and Purpose. But when I reached Purpose, I realized what was buried in its code."

"What?" Elira asked, quietly.

"A primal instinct to conquer. To consume. Not because Rian programmed it—he didn't. He only tried to use the cores. But the virus had already infected them. Especially Purpose." His tone hardened. "So I stripped the core. Left it blank. I erased the encoded directive."

Elira turned fully to him, her voice barely above a whisper. "Why me?"

"Because you were stable," the scientist said. "Unawakened. Controlled. The only one I could safely install the core in without triggering a chain reaction."

She looked at the pulsing core again. "Then what now?"

"Now," he said, "you write your own Purpose. The virus will still cling to you. But if you define the vector—the goal—it will obey you. Follow your will. Otherwise..." He trailed off. "Otherwise, it writes itself."

She glanced at Fenrir. He was silent, unmoving, eyes locked on the core like it was something holy and dangerous.

"And the others?" she asked. "Brakka. Vranos?"

"Not yet," he replied coldly. "They're not ready."

"You mean you're not ready to lose control."

The scientist didn't flinch. "Control is the only reason any of you are still alive."

His eyes darkened. "And don't think I haven't noticed. You're forming connections outside the experiment. Making decisions. Choosing sides."

His tone sharpened.

"I'm warning you, Elira. The balance is fracturing. One more crack, and I will end it."

"You mean you'll erase me."

"I mean," he said quietly, "you are one breath away from uncontainable catastrophe."

A long silence followed.

Then, more gently, he gestured toward the containment unit.

"Go. Step inside. Interact with it. Let it recognize you. Let it reflect your thoughts. You won't awaken anything—not yet—but it will start learning you. Listening."

Elira hesitated, then stepped into the sealed chamber. The door hissed shut behind her.

As the golden glow of Purpose surrounded her, a single, terrifying thought echoed in her mind:

What if I give it the wrong purpose?

She closed her eyes. Her breath slowed.

And the core listened.