The world around Callum shimmered and shifted as he was pulled out of the Animus. The transition was abrupt, and he blinked against the bright lights of the Abstergo lab. The vivid and colorful memories from the simulation faded, replaced by the stark white and cold metallic sheen of the high-tech room.

Feeling slightly disoriented, he tried to sit up, his senses still adjusting. The Animus' metallic arm retracted, and he felt the weight of the headpiece lift from him.

Sophia, clipboard in hand, approached Callum with a scrutinizing gaze. "That was your second time," she remarked. "How was the experience?"

Callum hesitated, his mind still reeling from the vivid memories he'd just lived through. "Intense," he replied, rubbing his temples.

A technician nearby began to unstrap Callum from the chair, while another handed him a glass of water. "It gets easier,"the technician offered, attempting to be reassuring.

Sophia observed him for a moment. "Remember, the Animus is a tool. It takes time to acclimate. But the information it provides is invaluable."

Callum took a sip of the water, his throat dry. The weight of the revelations he'd experienced, the life of an ancestor he'd never known, weighed on him. "It's just... a lot to take in," he admitted.

Sophia nodded, understanding in her eyes. "It's only the beginning, Callum. Rest up. We have more work ahead."

"Grab a bite. We're diving back in tomorrow," Sophia directed, her voice firm yet not unkind.

Under the watchful gaze of the guards, Callum was led to the facility's cafeteria. The vast, sterile space buzzed with muted conversations, and the scent of food wafted in the air. Rows of tables filled the room, with personnel from Abstergo seated, some deeply engrossed in discussions, while others quietly ate.


Among the Abstergo personnel, Callum could distinctly make out the Onmyoji and Assassin descendants. The Onmyoji, with their traditional garb and distinctive amulets, sat together in a secluded corner, engaged in deep conversation, occasionally glancing at scrolls and old manuscripts. The rhythmic chant of their prayers occasionally broke the cafeteria's general hum.

On the other side, descendants of Assassins, were easily distinguishable. They sat with an unmistakable air of vigilance, their conversations quiet and discreet, eyes always alert. They exchanged meaningful glances, their bond evident in the silent understanding they shared.

Though the two groups sat apart, the tension between them was palpable, like two storms waiting to collide. They were united in their watchfulness of Callum, each for their own reasons.

Just as Callum was about to sink his teeth into an apple, a forceful grip halted him. The hand belonged to a hardened-looking individual, clearly an Assassin descendant given the distinct tattoo on his forearm.

"They're using you,"the man hissed, his eyes burning with urgency. "You're going to guide those bastards straight to the prize."

Callum raised an eyebrow, glancing down at the apple and then back to the man's intense gaze. "I was under the impression I was just going to enjoy some fruit," he replied coolly.

A few onlookers chuckled, breaking the tension momentarily. The Assassin descendant, realizing the attention they were drawing, let go of Callum's wrist and leaned in closer, his voice a low growl. "This isn't a joke. Every memory you unlock, every secret you uncover, it's all leading them straight to what they want. You're their puppet."

Callum took a deliberate bite of the apple, the crisp sound echoing slightly in the sudden silence. "Then maybe it's time to cut some strings," he replied, locking eyes with the Assassin as he chewed slowly.

The Assassin, after a moment of intense eye contact with Callum, released his grip and took a step back. There was an almost palpable mix of frustration and determination in his eyes. Without uttering another word, he turned on his heel and walked away, his exit drawing the attention of many in the room.

Callum watched him go, rubbing the hand that had been grabbed. The confrontation had drawn more attention than he'd liked, and the whispered conversations around him made it clear that he was the topic of discussion. Taking a deep breath, he decided to focus on his meal, but the weight of the man's words lingered in his mind.