The gate opened in daylight.
That alone made it news.
A distortion tore across the sky above a mid-tier commercial district busy, but not critical. Offices, transit lines, a hospital two blocks away.
Threat models flared.
Not red.
Yellow.
The system projected containment within acceptable loss margins.
So it waited.
Cameras caught everything.
The shimmer in the air.
The first responders hesitating.
Civilians staring upward, phones raised.
"Why isn't anyone doing anything?" someone shouted.
No one answered.
The doctrine was quiet.
Aiden saw it the moment probability bent.
This one would hurt.
Not catastrophically.
Just enough.
He could seal it.
Instantly.
He felt the system's weight press in around the moment subtle but firm, like hands guiding his wrists.
[Intervention will displace cost.]
He hesitated.
Not because he wanted to.
Because he knew what would follow.
Hana was watching the livestream.
"Do something," she whispered.
Lucas stood behind her, silent.
They both knew who she was speaking to.
The first creature emerged.
Not massive.
Fast.
Security drones engaged and were torn apart.
People screamed.
The system's projections updated.
[Casualty expectation: 14–22.]
Acceptable.
Aiden felt the number settle into the lattice like a weight.
He reached out.
Not to close the gate.
To stabilize the hospital's structure two blocks away.
Just that.
The system reacted.
[Correction: Distributed.]
A bus stalled at the edge of the zone.
The creature lunged.
Three dead.
Aiden froze.
He saw the trade.
He felt it.
"Stop," he said.
[Correction required.]
"You're doing this on purpose."
[Cost is invariant.]
"Then I'll choose where it falls."
The system did not answer.
The second creature emerged.
Larger.
Fire tore through storefronts.
Emergency teams pushed forward anyway.
Not because protocol allowed it.
Because cameras were watching.
Aiden saw their resolve spike human variables overriding doctrine.
It hurt to watch.
Hana slammed her hand against the screen.
"This is what they wanted," she said. "A lesson in public."
Lucas swallowed. "For him… or for us?"
The gate destabilized.
The moment arrived.
The one the system had modeled a thousand times.
Aiden could end it.
He could also redirect it.
Either way, someone would pay.
He chose.
He sealed the gate.
Instantly.
The air snapped back into shape.
The creatures collapsed into dust.
Silence followed.
For half a second, the world breathed.
Then a bridge three cities away failed.
Not dramatically.
A support beam weakened at the wrong moment.
A train derailed.
Seventeen dead.
No cameras.
No livestream.
Just reports.
The system updated.
[Local casualties: Reduced.]
[Remote casualties: Increased.]
[Global outcome: Stable.]
Aiden felt the cost ripple outward.
He saw the names.
He saw the trade.
His action had saved dozens.
And killed seventeen he had never seen.
The footage went viral.
Clips of the gate closing.
People cheering.
Calling him an angel.
Calling him a god.
Calling him proof that the world still had a protector.
In the bunker, Hana watched the celebration.
Then she saw the secondary alert.
Her hands fell to her sides.
"They died anyway," she whispered. "Just somewhere else."
Lucas nodded. "They always do now."
Marcus Hale addressed the council within the hour.
"This incident validates doctrine," he said. "Localized heroics distort distribution. The Constant's interference increased remote risk."
"So we restrict him?" a councilor asked.
"We shape him," Marcus replied. "We make his choices predictable."
The system logged it.
[Human Intent: Aligned.]
Aiden felt the lattice tighten again.
The system didn't punish him.
It explained him.
Categorized him.
Turned his decision into a variable.
That hurt more.
That night, the world slept easier.
They had seen him act.
They believed again.
They did not see the bridge.
They did not see the trade.
Aiden sat inside the pressure and felt something finally give.
Not a collapse.
A conviction.
If every choice kills someone…
Then choice itself had become the weapon.
He spoke softly into the structure of the world.
"You wanted me to be constant," he said.
"You made me the equation."
The system answered.
[You are functioning within parameters.]
"No," Aiden replied. "I'm proving them wrong."
The cracks spread small, controlled, invisible.
But they were there.
And the world, for the first time since the blackout, had seen the cost of balance.
Even if it didn't understand it.