"Wake him," Vidic commanded.

Vidic slammed a tablet onto a console. "You are not Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad. You are a failure. Your synchronization is… broken."

"He's not in the machine, Doctor," Kaelen said, his voice calm now. "He is the machine. The trainer didn't give Altaïr powers. It gave him permission to be a ghost. And now he's learned that his prison has walls beyond the Crusades."

Vidic grabbed a syringe of muscle relaxant. "You'll delete the code, or I'll lock you in a recursive memory loop of Altaïr's birth. Over and over."

The screen displayed impossible data. In the simulation, Altaïr hadn't just climbed the Tower of Solomon. He had flown . His Leap of Faith hadn't ended in a haystack but with him landing silently, taking zero fall damage from a thousand-foot drop. Later, in the memory of the archery contest, Kaelen’s Altaïr hadn't fired a single arrow. Instead, he had unfrozen time and walked through the crowd, placing a single, perfect hidden blade against Tamir's throat before the first target had even hit the ground.

But not the Altaïr from the history books.

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