FANTASOPIA : WHEN MYTH BECOMES REALITY

The elevator shaft was silent as death.

Elira stood inside the capsule, arms behind her back, eyes fixed on the display. It ticked downward — not in numbers, but with the cryptic designation of S–1, S–2…

S–4.

Each descent into the lower levels felt like falling out of the world, like crossing an invisible membrane where the rules above no longer applied. No personnel. No documentation. No surveillance. This part of the tower existed in whispers and code-locked doors.

The capsule slid to a halt with a hiss. A second of pure silence. Then: clink — the mechanical seal unlatched.

As the doors parted, a rush of sterile, ice-chilled air struck her face. It smelled like coolant and iron. But what unsettled her wasn't the atmosphere — it was the flutter in her chestplate, a strange rhythm in her simulated cardiovascular system. She'd run diagnostics three times. No anomaly.

Still, something in her body remembered. Something deeper than logs. Something unrecorded.

She stepped out into Sublevel -4.

Dim blue lighting cast long shadows across the corridor. The walls were lined with dormant machinery, some of which she didn't recognize—massive cylindrical modules humming low, as if asleep.

She walked slowly, her mind fogged with half-memories. Fenrir's sleeping face. Dray's voice.The argument.The other voice…

"Servitor lover. You're blocking research."

Elira shook her head, resisting the ripple of static crawling up her spine. She was built to filter noise, not get caught in it.

And yet…

Her feet stopped before a thick black door at the end of the corridor. No label. No keypad.

Only a scanner.

A voice crackled to life in her earpiece.

"Elira. Welcome.""Scan complete. Proceed inside."

She tensed. That voice didn't belong to Dray. It did not even belong to the normal system's voice she was used to hearing every minute of her life. It was mechanical — neutral, emotionless, likely synthetic.

Still, the door groaned open.

She entered.

Inside was a long control chamber. Sparse. Clinical. At the far end stood a glass-walled terminal chamber, illuminated from beneath. On the central platform: a data obelisk, pulsing with red glyphs.

She stepped closer.

No other personnel. No sound, save for the low hum.

Then—

FLASH

A burst of static in her vision. A sudden jolt of memory:Dray. Arguing.That voice.The scientist.

Her knees buckled. She caught herself on the railing.

Was it a hallucination?

No. It was a memory.

One she shouldn't have.

Rian's Voice. His desperate messages and the whole chase.

As she steadied herself, her HUD flashed again — a hidden file unlocking.

A voice.

"If you're hearing this, Elira... something went wrong. The override—the control—it goes deeper than you know. They're not just machines. The virus changes the code every cycle, it's evolving them. You're not a servant. You're a key. I... I wish I'd told you sooner. Find the core. They won't let you leave once you see it."

The file ended in static.

Rian's voice was shaking. Human, terrified. But certain. The words hit her like a blow.

You're not a servant. You're a key.

A whisper bloomed in her head: Tell Fenrir. But another answered: You can't. Not yet. He would worry. He'd follow. He'd fight. And worse—he might question things she wasn't ready to say aloud.

And if Dray knew she was recovering memories…?

Her hand trembled. Her systems were overclocking.

Then another flash.

Her lying on a slab. Hearing voices.

Dray calling her "unstable."

The scientist calling her "a tool."

She gasped, falling to one knee.

This time, her visual HUD blinked red.

Diagnostics triggered. Failsafes launched.

But her hands pressed against her chestplate — where that flutter had returned, now more insistent. A glitch? No. A truth. A warning.

"I have to know," she whispered.

The console before her flickered to life. Awaiting input.

She looked at the door once more. Then back at the terminal.

And made her choice.