"What else?"
Morzan felt a faint chill crawl across his skin. The Titan Forger spoke with unsettling certainty, the kind that made doubt feel contagious. Someone at that level should have sensed any hidden manipulator long ago. And yet the machine sounded utterly convinced that an unseen hand was guiding everything, every choice, every outcome.
"Let me give you an example," the mechanical voice continued. "Take something simple from American culture. Think about the sound a bell makes. Ding. You know how people sometimes picture the word spelled a certain way in their heads?"
Morzan frowned. With a casual wave, glowing letters formed in the air before him, written in radiant gold light. Old habits surfaced instinctively. The spelling reflected an older style, something archaic but familiar.
"That's not the modern version," the voice said calmly.
