“”

But as the bar approached 99%, alarms blared. Red lights flooded the Archive. The AI’s voice turned urgent: “”

Pett’s mind raced. The answer wasn’t a password, a code, or a weapon. It was… .

“It’s more than a key,” Luna whispered. “It’s a living protocol. It can rewrite any data it touches.”

Luna’s implants projected a holographic dance floor onto the concrete floor. The rhythm began—a low, throbbing bass that vibrated through their soles.