The room had no windows.
It didn't need them.
Light came from screens—dozens of them—floating projections layered over one another like ghosts. Slow-motion footage. Thermal readouts. Spatial distortion graphs. Biometric overlays frozen at the exact moment where reality had failed.
A boy on his knees.
Blood in his mouth.
And then—
Reversal.
Reconstruction.
A man sat alone at the center of it all, hands folded, posture relaxed in the way only the truly dangerous ever were. His face was partially obscured by shadow, but his eyes reflected the screens with unsettling clarity.
He rewound the footage again.
Frame by frame.
The analysts had marked it as an anomaly. The medical teams had marked it as impossible. The authorities had marked it as inconclusive.
The observer marked it as wrong.
"No signature," he murmured. "No tier imprint. No activation echo."
He leaned back slightly.
"And yet… the laws bent."
This man was a Tier X Observer—one of the few who had reached the Tenth Tier, Fifth Stage, not through conquest, but through comprehension. He did not intervene. He did not rule. He watched.
And this—
This was something new.
"Not invisible," he said softly. "Just… undefined."
Aegis' file hovered beside the footage. Blank where it should not be. Too clean. Too human.
"Interesting," the observer concluded.
And for the first time in years, he tagged a subject—not as a threat…
…but as a variable.
Aegis walked home beneath surveillance he could not yet see.
The city felt different now—not louder or brighter, but thinner. Like it would tear if he pushed too hard. Every passing person carried weight. Possibility. Risk.
"Stay small," he told himself.
"Stay unseen."
His steps were careful, measured. He avoided crowds. Avoided cameras when he could—though he didn't yet know how, only that his body suggested routes that felt safer.
"If they can't define me… they can't cage me."
He understood the rules now.
Not all harm needed to be lethal. Contact was enough—but time mattered. Forty-eight hours for non-lethal acquisition. Immediate integration for near-death.
Which meant—
"I need concealment first."
Camouflage. Obfuscation. Null fields. Abilities that weren't flashy. Abilities that let him move through the world without leaving ripples.
He pulled up public registries on his phone. Civilian databases. Shifter licensing records. School rosters.
People with weak, overlooked abilities.
People no one would miss noticing.
"I don't need power yet."
"I need silence."
Above him, satellites shifted angles.
Below him, the Living Law listened—and adjusted.
The next morning, school felt… wrong.
Not hostile.
Wary.
Aegis walked through the front doors with his head up for the first time in years. No flinch. No apology in his posture. Conversations dipped when he passed—not out of cruelty this time, but uncertainty.
Is he dangerous?
Is he even human?
He ignored them.
Four lockers down, a familiar voice broke the tension.
"Dude," one of the boys said. "You look… different."
That was Marcus—broad-shouldered, kinetic-shift user, low Tier Two but climbing fast. Always laughing. Always loyal.
Beside him stood Eli, quieter, observational, with a minor perception shift that let him read micro-movements. He studied Aegis now with narrowed eyes.
"You didn't awaken," Eli said slowly. "But something changed."
Before Aegis could respond, a third presence slid into place beside him.
"Good morning," she said softly.
Her name was Nyra.
She'd been there since sophomore year. Tier Three—Second Stage, on the verge of more. Her ability was subtle: probability smoothing. Things went right around her more often than they should.
She smiled at him like she always did.
Like she'd always believed he'd stand up straight one day.
"You okay?" she asked.
Aegis met her eyes—and for just a moment, the Catalog stirred.
He looked away.
"Yeah," he said. "I'm fine."
She lingered, like she wanted to say more. Like she always had.
Around them, the school moved cautiously. No bullying today. No shoves. Fear had replaced cruelty—and that worried Aegis more.
"They're watching."
Not just students.
Everyone.
As the bell rang, Aegis made a quiet decision.
"I'll grow."
"But I'll do it without noise."
Somewhere far away, an observer smiled.
And evolution took its first deliberate step forward.