The system didn't respond, it rarely did when something wasn't supposed to exist.
He set the weapon on the table and grabbed a small set of tools from the drawer, basic mechanical equipment he'd used to repair his tablet once. They'd have to do.
He started slow.
Disassembling.
Examining.
The casing slid apart with mechanical precision, revealing its heart, a crystalline core housed inside a matrix of glowing lines that looked half runic, half circuit.
He leaned closer. "What the hell…"
The core was pulsing softly, like a rhythm.
And engraved at the very center, barely visible through the transparent film, were small letters etched in a language that shouldn't exist in this world.
His breath caught.
It wasn't Elvish.
It wasn't Ancient Script.
It wasn't anything this world had.
It was English.
Right there, tiny and perfect:
"Project Lazarus — Rev. 2.4 // Reclaimer Protocol Active."
Merlin's fingers went still.
