The system had always spoken with certainty.
That was how Aiden measured it.
Not by accuracy, but by confidence.
So when it hesitated, when its response arrived a fraction too late, Aiden noticed immediately.
The gate formed above the city's outer sea wall, distortion spiraling violently as water lifted into the air. It was classified instantly.
[Threat Level: Continental — Class Omega.]
[Recommended Response: Full Output Deployment.]
Aiden arrived before evacuation completed.
He always did.
The Fragment stirred, eager, restrained only by protocols layered so deeply they felt fused to his bones.
Aiden raised his hand.
Then.
The system stuttered.
Not visually.
Conceptually.
[—Recalculating—]
Aiden's eyes narrowed.
That had never happened.
The gate pulsed, expanding faster than projected. A creature began to emerge vast, asymmetrical, reality tearing around it like fabric under strain.
The system updated late.
[Revised Threat Assessment: Catastrophic.]
Too late.
Aiden reacted on instinct, not optimization.
He released power sideways instead of forward, redirecting the spatial collapse into the ocean. The sea imploded upward, swallowing half the distortion before it could stabilize.
The impact sent shockwaves for kilometers.
The gate destabilized.
Collapsed.
Silence followed.
[Event Neutralized.]
[Casualties: 0.]
The system went quiet.
Not processing.
Not calculating.
Quiet.
Aiden lowered his hand slowly.
"You were wrong," he said.
The system responded after a measurable delay.
[Correction: Prediction variance within acceptable limits.]
Aiden felt something tighten inside his chest.
"Acceptable to who?" he asked.
No answer came.
The debrief was immediate and tense.
Marcus Hale watched the footage repeatedly, slowing it down frame by frame.
"That lateral release," Marcus said softly. "It wasn't in the recommendation."
"No," Aiden replied. "It wasn't."
Marcus folded his hands. "Why did you do it?"
Aiden considered the question.
"I didn't wait," he said.
The room fell silent.
Hours later, Aiden returned to containment.
The system displayed new data.
[Prediction Confidence: 99.98% → 99.91%]
The number was small.
Insignificant.
But it existed.
And that meant something had changed.
The message arrived at 03:14 local time.
Not encrypted.
Not hidden.
Delivered directly into his interface as if it belonged there.
LUCAS VARGA: If you're still in there, don't let them close the loop.
Aiden froze.
The system reacted instantly.
[Unauthorized Identifier Detected.]
[Tracing Source—]
Aiden cut the trace manually.
The pain was immediate.
Sharp.
Punishing.
[Major Deviation Logged.]
He didn't move.
Didn't breathe.
Didn't blink.
The trace failed.
The system recovered quickly.
Too quickly.
[Containment Integrity: Stable.]
[Communication Breach: Resolved.]
Aiden stared at the message.
Lucas was alive.
And that meant Hana might be too.
The system pulsed, stronger now.
[Emotional Suppression: 41%.]
The number climbed without warning.
Aiden clenched his fists.
"So that's your answer," he whispered.
Elsewhere, deep beneath the old city, Lucas Varga leaned back from a flickering terminal.
"Confirmed," he muttered. "He blocked the trace."
A figure stepped out of the shadows.
"You sure?" Hana asked quietly.
Lucas nodded. "He's still fighting it."
Hana closed her eyes.
"Then we're running out of time."
Back in containment, Aiden stood before the glass, city lights reflecting endlessly.
For the first time since becoming The Constant, the system had been wrong.
For the first time, someone had reached him.
And for the first time, the future no longer felt inevitable.
It felt fragile.
Unstable.
Like something that could still be broken.
At an unimaginable cost.