STRINGS OF THE MASTER : WHEN MYTH BECOMES REALITY

The elevator moved silently, ascending toward the upper levels of the Virex Tower. Elira stood motionless, her expression a mask of calm. Her thoughts, however, were anything but still.

Beneath the surface, systems recalibrated. Her internal sensors monitored the shard hidden deep within a secured compartment in her torso—encrypted, shielded, and invisible to standard scans. The Scientist's subroutine mask was working, and for now, she was safe. Even from Dray.

But the mask wasn't just protection. She could feel its grip—subtle but firm—modulating her speech patterns, dampening emotional spikes, subtly reorienting her posture and facial expressions. She remained herself, but with an artificial gloss layered over her personality. Just enough to keep suspicions at bay.

The elevator chimed softly. Level 16. The Commanders' floor.

Her steps were silent as she walked past her fellow commanders' quarters. Vranos' suite was quiet—unusual. Brakka's room thrummed with mechanical noises, as always. Fenrir's door was closed, but she could sense his absence.

She entered her quarters, sealed the door, and drew the blackout curtains.

Making sure Fenrir was still powered down, she quietly moved on. Only then did she retrieve the shard and walk to her personal console.

The moment she slotted it in, the console powered down.

Then—faint light.

A secure interface bloomed into life. No login, no prompt.

Only a voice.

"Security confirmed. Welcome, Elira."

It was him. The Scientist.

Lines of encrypted code scrolled across the screen before collapsing into a timeline projection—a world map, overlaid with data.

She saw the world as it was before the Fall. Glimmering cities. Bustling networks. Humanity at its peak.

And then—red zones. Virus contamination spread like wildfire across continents. Elira stared as animation showed how quickly the infection decimated the population. A week. That's all it had taken for society to crumble.

Then the timeline jumped. Five years later—Virex emerged. The Virus Energy Conversion Engine was invented. A miracle, the voice-over declared. Power born from plague. Hope harvested from horror.

Then came the twist.

A timeline appeared, comparing Accepted History to True History.

ACCEPTED: Virus outbreak - Year 0ACCEPTED: Virex founded - Year 5ACCEPTED: Current Year - 55

Then, the true timeline appeared:

ACTUAL: Virus outbreak - Year 0ACTUAL: Virex founded - Year 1ACTUAL: Current Year - 10

Elira's vision flickered. Her processors tried to reject the data, but the Scientist had anticipated it.

"You were programmed to believe in stability," the voice said. "That Virex saved the world over generations. That you've served loyally for decades."

The screen zoomed in on the Virex Tower's construction logs. The first beam wasn't laid fifty years ago—it was ten. Population logs. Energy outputs. Archived footage. The data was undeniable.

"Your history is false," the Scientist continued. "I built it that way. Time is a construct, easily overwritten in artificial minds. What you believe is history is an illusion of memory."

Elira's breath caught—a purely cosmetic reflex. The weight of the revelation pressed into her core.

"You were made nine years ago," he said softly. "And even then, only activated three years ago."

The next screen loaded: her directive.

MISSION: Observe Dray. Wait for further instruction. Operate under subroutine mask. Maintain role. Watch for deviation.

Then his voice returned, colder now.

"Your mind fought back. Stronger than any other. That's why you're here. That's why I didn't wipe you."

A long pause.

"Monitor Dray. Report only when prompted. Do not make contact with unauthorized subordinates. Your memory core has been partially unlocked. The rest will come with time. This world is built on lies, Elira. But lies are necessary scaffolds until truth can stand on its own."

The interface faded.

A final prompt blinked:

"What you see now is a lie made of order. Truth is chaos, waiting to be freed."

The interface dissolved.

Elira sat still. Her thoughts raced.

She remembered Rian. She remembered his final words: "This world was never ours."

She stood in silence, staring into the dark screen, her mind spinning.

The past. Her purpose. The lie of time.

A knock sounded at her door.

"Commander?" It was Fenrir. "Training begins in five."

"I'll be right there," she said, her voice perfectly modulated.

As she closed the shard inside her body once more, the mask reactivated. Her features smoothed into calm authority.

But now, a crack had formed beneath it.

And from that fracture, the truth had begun to bleed.