The system interface floated in front of Rex, but this time it wasn't ambient or passive… it shimmered like a blade drawn across reality, pressing against the surface of his mind.
There was no music. No loading animation. No cute chime or holographic spin. Just silence... and then:
Then the world unraveled.
Lines of text began to scroll, not typed but carved, as if etched into digital stone. Diagrams appeared, family trees that twisted and sprawled like a serpent's skeleton. Maps burned onto the screen, highlighting borders not of countries, but of blood, like an ancient puzzle finally coming undone. And then came the images. Blurred at first, then sharpening… portraits, coronations, funeral processions, secret handshakes in ballroom.
This wasn't just information. This was history stripped of its perfume, power stripped of its disguise.
