Atlas sat in the sterile briefing room and tried not to yawn. The mid-level officials had been droning on for forty minutes about risk matrices and containment protocols.
Ever since the shrine incident, they treated him like some kind of walking miracle. Half of them kept sneaking glances at him as if he might sprout wings or set the table on fire.
Elara leaned closer. "Don't do anything stupid," she whispered.
Too late. Atlas pulled the red pen from his coat pocket. The meeting agenda floated in front of him on a glowing panel. One line stood out: "All present parties agree this situation remains under full Council control."
He crossed it out with a single red line.
The pen spoke directly into his head, voice dry and smug. *Bold choice. Hope you're ready for the rewrite, kid.*
Nothing exploded. The lights didn't flicker. Instead the entire room's tone flipped like a bad script edit.
