I Rule Rome with a God-Tier AI-Chapter 133: The Devil’s Firewall

Alex scrambled to his feet, his hand fumbling for the chair he had kicked over. The clatter of wood against stone was the only sound in the dead air of the chamber, a clumsy, human noise that seemed obscene in the face of the silent, cosmic threat now staring at him from the laptop screen. His breath came in ragged, shallow gasps. The cool, calculating mask of the Emperor Commodus, the persona he had so carefully constructed over the past two years, had shattered into a thousand pieces. In its place was Alex Carter, a project manager from the 21st century, trapped in a waking nightmare so vast it threatened to swallow his sanity whole.

He gripped the heavy oak desk, his knuckles turning white, anchoring himself to something solid as his world spun out of control. He stared at the symbol on the screen, the spiral and the broken triangle, now burned into his mind. It was a bridge, a horrifying link between the bloody massacre in the northern mountains and the alien automaton he had fought in the east. They were not separate crises. They were one.

"Options, Lyra," he hissed, his voice a raw, desperate whisper that was swallowed by the lead-lined walls. "Give me options! Who are they? What do they want? How do we fight an enemy that can be in two places at once?"

Lyra's response was immediate, logical, and so utterly, maddeningly useless that Alex wanted to scream. Her placid, synthesized voice filled the chamber. Based on available data, the perpetrators are an unknown hostile force utilizing Aethel-tech iconography. Standard military response protocols are advised. Option One: Dispatch the nearest legions, Legio XIV Gemina and Legio X Gemina, from their positions in Pannonia to the Noricum sector to contain and eliminate the threat. This carries a high probability of success against a conventional terrestrial force.

"They are not a conventional force!" Alex snarled, pacing in the cramped space between the desk and a row of stern-faced marble busts.

Option Two: Recall Senator Rufus and the commission immediately. Cede the disputed territory and establish a fortified cordon along the provincial border until a larger, more comprehensive expeditionary force can be mustered. This minimizes immediate Roman casualties but sacrifices territorial integrity and political capital.

Option Three: Authorize a covert reconnaissance mission utilizing the specialized skills of the Fire Cohort to gather further intelligence before committing to a full-scale military response.

"No!" Alex roared, the sound exploding in the confined space. He spun back to the desk, his face contorted with a frantic energy. "No! Conventional legions? Against an enemy that can slaughter two militia cohorts without making a sound? Against the same faction that created the Traveler? It would be a massacre! I'd be sending Maximus's best men into a meat grinder! I don't need military options, I need intelligence! You have the Traveler's data logs. You have the raw data from its systems. The information is in there. Analyze it! Tell me what I'm fighting!"

He stood panting, his chest heaving, staring at the impassive green glow of the laptop's power light. He knew what Lyra's response would be before she even gave it, and the knowledge was like a physical weight pressing down on him.

Analysis of alien data architecture, particularly that of an Echo-Class Aethel entity, requires advanced heuristic and quantum computing subroutines, she stated, her voice a cold, hard spike of logic driven into his frantic heart. These subroutines are classified as origin-data. Accessing them is contingent upon my core programming. All such files are currently secured behind the multi-layered encryption of the Ghost Protocol. Access denied.

The words hung in the air, a final, damning verdict. The choice, his unwinnable, impossible choice, was laid bare before him.

He could keep the firewall up. He could keep Lyra, his most precious secret, his only true ally, safe from the prying, insidious reach of the Silent Network. But in doing so, he would be fighting blind. He would be forced to throw his legions, his friends, his entire empire, against a phantom enemy whose capabilities, motives, and weaknesses were a complete mystery. The thought of sending men like Maximus or Cassius to their deaths because of his own paranoia was unbearable.

Or, he could take the firewall down. He could disable the Ghost Protocol, unlock Lyra's full power, and get the intelligence he so desperately needed to have even a sliver of a chance. But the risk was terrifying, monumental. If the Silent Network was still watching, and he had to assume it was, then dropping the firewall would be like opening the gates of a fortress to a spy. It could corrupt Lyra, copy her, or worse, turn her against him. It would be an act of strategic suicide, exposing his greatest strength to his greatest enemy.

Damned if he did. Doomed if he didn't.

He pushed away from the desk and began to pace again, this time like a caged animal, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. He couldn't do it. He couldn't risk losing Lyra. She was more than a tool; she was the only one who knew his truth. Losing her would be a loneliness he couldn't fathom. But the image of Rufus, of the Urban and Devota cohorts, walking into a silent, pre-prepared trap... that was a guilt he couldn't bear. 𝚏𝗿𝗲𝐞𝚠𝕖𝐛𝗻𝗼𝐯𝕖𝚕.𝚌𝗼𝗺

There had to be a third way. A compromise. A risk, but a calculated one. He stopped, his gaze locking onto the laptop. An idea began to form in his mind, a desperate gambit born of pure necessity.

"Lyra," he commanded, his voice strained, tight with tension. He walked back to the desk, leaning over it, speaking directly to the machine. "New directive. Priority Alpha. We are not performing a full repeal of the Ghost Protocol." He took a deep, shuddering breath. "I am authorizing a temporary, single-use, targeted decryption key. A needle, not a sledgehammer."

He began to spell out the parameters, his mind racing to close every possible loophole. "You are authorized to access only the specific memory blocks containing the raw, unprocessed data from the Traveler's final battle logs. Nothing else. You will analyze only that data. All other origin-files—my personal history, the 21st century, Elara, everything—remain sealed under the original protocol. You will isolate this entire process in a quarantined virtual sandbox, completely firewalled from your primary operating system. The moment the analysis is complete, the decryption key is to be immediately and permanently destroyed, and the entire sandbox environment is to be purged with a cascade of random data. Do you understand the parameters?"

He had proposed a kind of digital surgery, an attempt to extract a vital piece of information while exposing the absolute minimum of Lyra's core being. It was still a risk. He was still cracking the door open, if only for a moment. But it felt like the only choice he had.

Lyra's processors whirred, analyzing the command. For a long, heart-stopping moment, there was only silence. Then, her voice returned, and for the first time, Alex thought he detected a note of something other than pure logic in her tone. A synthetic approximation of caution.

Directive understood. The proposed procedure creates a temporary vulnerability. It carries a 7.3% statistical probability of catastrophic data corruption within the sandboxed files. Furthermore, the quantum decryption process will generate a minute but non-zero energy signature. There is a 2.1% risk that this signature could be detected by a hostile entity actively monitoring this region of spacetime.

A two percent chance of alerting the monster that he was picking the lock on its secrets. A two percent chance of inviting it inside. Alex's stomach churned. He closed his eyes, picturing the battlefield in Noricum, picturing the symbol carved in the rock. Two percent was a risk he had to take.

"Proceed," he whispered, his voice hoarse.

Acknowledged. Executing temporary decryption protocol. Proceeding.

A new window opened on the laptop screen, a simple black box with a single, glowing green progress bar. Beneath it were the words: DECRYPTING AETHEL-TECH DATA-CORE... 0%

Alex watched the number begin to slowly tick upwards. He had made his devil's bargain. He was left to wait, trapped in the suffocating silence of his sanctuary, knowing with a terrifying certainty that in his desperate attempt to understand the enemy, he may have just rung the dinner bell.