Sofia's attention was entirely consumed by Callum Lynch within the Animus Room, even as she faintly registered some commotion outside. Perhaps another attempt by the patients to breach security, but she deemed it not her immediate concern, leaving it to Tadakuni to handle.

Inside the Animus, the previous scene dissolved, the holographic imagery fading away as Cal stood still, synchronized within the simulation despite the disabled arm of the Animus and the jammed epidural unit in his brain.

Yet, he was not alone.

Beside him, slightly ahead, stood Leopold Lafleche, their gaze locked in a profound connection that defied explanation.

How was this possible?

With a nod from Leopold, Cal surveyed the room. Figures began to materialize around them, each a representation of companions from various eras.

One appeared as a soldier in a U.S. uniform from 1943, while another donned the olive garb of a WWI doughboy, albeit with a hood covering his head instead of the customary round helmet.

They journeyed through time, traversing not just decades but centuries. A figure emerged from the French Revolution, followed by one from America's own struggle for independence. Sofia, her eyes wide with amazement, witnessed an array of attire representing epochs from history – from the refined Elizabethan ruffs and the majestic sweep of a Cavalier's cape to the humble garb of peasants and the rugged leather armor of warriors.

Sofia's voice emerged as a hushed whisper filled with awe, barely audible yet heard by Alex. "Is it a memory?"

He studied Cal's brain patterns intently before responding, "No." His reply offered no further explanation.

Assassins materialized from Cal's essence, emerging from his DNA, his mind, or perhaps his conscience – Sofia couldn't discern which.

"He's projecting images of the Brotherhood," she uttered, her astonishment palpable.

How is this possible? What's Cal doing? The questions raced through her mind as Cal shattered the boundaries they had believed confined the Animus, defying what should have been unbreakable laws of science as if they were mere suggestions.

Standing beside Alex, Sofia had been observing over his shoulder. But as the holographic Assassins multiplied, drawing closer, she felt compelled to join them on the floor.

They appeared vivid and real, akin to the imaginary friends she had once conjured as a lonely child. Moving among them, she gazed into their faces, contemplating the endless possibilities that lay ahead with what Cal was revealing. The notion was intoxicating.

Into the circle of Assassins stepped another figure, one who would be deceased if not for the holographic projection: her father.

His gaze was fixed on the holographic figures, his expression analytical and assessing. When his brown eyes met hers, Sofia's joy and wonder turned to bitterness. She knew he wouldn't offer congratulations on her achievement, nor express pride in her accomplishment pursued by the Templars for over three decades. Any acknowledgment from him seemed unlikely, casting a shadow over her elation. For her father, the unfolding scene was not a breakthrough but a problem to be solved.

"Transport?" He spoke, not addressing Sofia but directing his words to Tadakuni, who stood behind him.

"Standing by," Tadakuni replied, his voice devoid of emotion as always.

Sofia's eyes widened at the exchange. She became acutely aware of the blaring alarms signaling a security breach, but she couldn't fathom the severity of the situation. There was only one guard per patient, including those in the supposedly secure Infinity Room where the inmates posed no threat. Surely her father wasn't suggesting evacuation now, not when Cal was—

"He's given us what we want," Rikkin asserted. "Protect the Animus, and purge the facility."

"No!"

The word erupted from Sofia before she even realized she had spoken. She stood, seething with fury, her hands clenched into fists. She understood the implication all too well. It meant that her father and everyone he deemed important would calmly board waiting helicopters and depart, leaving the guards behind to massacre every single inmate.

Including Callum Lynch.

It was supposed to be a last resort, reserved for emergencies where immediate evacuation was the only hope of survival. That wasn't the situation here, and Rikkin knew it.

Her father didn't like what he saw when he looked at Cal and the multitude of Assassins Lynch had conjured. He didn't like it one bit. As far as Alan Rikkin was concerned, Cal had fulfilled his purpose—revealing the location of the Apple. Now, he was expendable, perhaps even a threat.

The decades-long experiment, which Sofia Rikkin had brought to its successful conclusion, was being terminated.

Cal had served his purpose. The inmates had served their purpose. The facility itself, apart from the Animus, had served its purpose.

And Sofia couldn't shake the unsettling thought that she, too, had served hers in her father's eyes.

His gaze hardened, annoyance evident as it slid to hers.

Tadakuni continued as if Sofia's outburst hadn't occurred, "I need to get you out of here first."

"No!" Sofia shouted once more, taking a defiant step toward him, her face flushed with anger. Rikkin strode past her, not even bothering to turn his head as he admonished, "We have to leave, Sofia!"

It wasn't a request or a discussion. Alan Rikkin was scolding her.

Embarrassment flooded over her, quickly followed by fury. Even now, when she confronted him over the deliberate killings of fifty individuals, some of whom were not even lucid enough to comprehend the threat they faced, he dismissed her as if she were a child clinging to his trouser leg, crying over a dropped ice cream cone.

He clearly expected her to obediently follow, like a dog at heel.

She didn't.


Joseph Lynch stood in the Infinity Room amidst flashing lights and blaring alarms, seemingly the only one aware of the chaos unfolding around him. For decades, he had remained steadfast against the Templars' attempts to manipulate or coerce him, even at the cost of his beloved wife's life and the disappearance of his son.

Unyielding in his resolve, Joseph had avoided forming any bonds with his fellow inmates, ensuring the Templars had no leverage over him. Despite the pain of his past, he clung to the memories of his wife, finding solace in her enduring presence.

Now, with the unexpected arrival of his son Cal, Joseph felt a sense of closure and liberation. He recognized Cal's strength and saw in him a reflection of his late wife. As the world around him descended into turmoil, Joseph no longer worried for Cal's safety; his son had chosen his own path.

Prepared for the inevitable confrontation, Joseph faced his would-be assailant with calm determination, driving his Assassin's blade into the guard's abdomen—a final gift from his son. Despite facing multiple attackers, Joseph welcomed the pain as a reminder of his vitality and purpose.

As darkness closed in around him, Joseph embraced his fate with a smile, knowing he had lived and died true to the Creed. With his blood spilled, he felt a profound sense of freedom at last.


Sofia Rikkin, a scientist and a Templar, stood transfixed as the holographic Assassins seemed to awaken before her eyes. One by one, they raised their heads, their eyes peering out from beneath their hoods at Cal, just as Leopold had done.

Cal, in turn, gazed back at them, connecting with each figure. Were these his ancestors? Were they here to silently judge him—or to offer their blessings? Only Cal knew, and regardless, Sofia sensed that her time with him was coming to an end, and the thought saddened her.

Among the newly manifested figures stood one who appeared smaller and slighter than the rest. As Sofia observed, this figure lifted its head to regard Cal, mirroring the actions of the others.

It was Cal's mother, slender and graceful, her hair a warm honey-red gold, who looked upon her son with a trembling smile. In this moment, the years seemed to melt away from Cal's face, and for the first time in Sofia's experience, he appeared vulnerable. Moving slowly, almost as if in a dream, Cal approached the holographic image of his mother until they stood so close that he could almost reach out and touch her.

Watching this intimate moment unfold, Sofia felt a pang of envy unlike any she had ever experienced. This moment belonged to them alone; to Cal and his mother, and to the other Assassins present, including those whose descendants were currently fighting in the facility's rooms and corridors.

As a Templar, Sofia knew she was not welcome in this sacred circle. At that moment, another Assassin lifted its head, but unlike the others focused on Cal, this one turned its attention toward Sofia—a slender figure cloaked in simple brown linen.

Blue eyes, outlined with kohl, met Sofia's gaze evenly. A face she recognized, adorned with intricate tattoos, looked back at her from beneath the plain brown hood. For a moment, Sofia found herself unable to breathe.

The face beneath the hood was her own.

She stood rooted to the spot, overwhelmed by a tumult of emotions: horror, joy, fear, wonder. She began to move closer, but her arm was suddenly seized by Tadakuni, who forcefully pulled her away from the circle of Assassins.

"No!" Sofia screamed, struggling against him with all her might. But Tadakuni, accustomed to handling men as strong as Cal, easily dragged her away from the greatest mystery of her life, from the answers to questions she didn't even realize she had. She was hauled off, kicking and flailing, towards the waiting helicopter, despair closing in around her like a suffocating grip.

Amidst the chaos of her own struggle, she could hear the sounds of fighting drawing nearer. The Assassins were coming for Cal—their brother.

And strangely, amidst her turmoil, she felt a sense of relief.