The sun hung low behind the academy spires, bleeding gold across the cobbled stones of the courtyard.
Classes had ended. Students sprawled across benches or sparred lazily in training circles. Some flirted near the gardens. Others formed circles of laughter and gossip—living within the gentle lull of privilege and future glory.
Cael stood beneath an arched colonnade, half-shrouded in shadow. Observing. Not participating.
"All of them… still sleepwalking."
He scanned the faces—bright, naive, arrogant.
Every gesture felt scripted. Every laugh rang hollow once you knew how the story ended.
"They don't walk their own paths, he thought. They march in step, led by strings they can't see. Birthright. Destiny. The Hero's orbit."
And some?
They weren't given paths at all.
Just silence.
Just erasure.
A sharp sound cracked through the courtyard.
A book hit the marble.
Heads turned lazily—then turned back.
By the fountains, a girl knelt, scrambling to gather her scattered notes. Brown hair falling into her face, hands trembling just slightly.
Cael tilted his head.
"Lira."
He remembered her—not because she was important.
But because she had vanished.
A week after this… maybe two… she was gone. No explanation. No one asked. No one cared.
A forgotten life, edited out of the main narrative.
And now, right on cue, the nobles arrived.
Three of them—flashy uniforms, loud voices. Children of houses who thought their lineage equaled law.
"Hey," one of them sneered. "Didn't they teach rats to stay out of noble paths?"
Lira straightened, hugging her notebook.
"I didn't mean to drop anything, sir."
One of them—Ceron Valte, Cael recalled—smirked, lazy and cruel. A talentless peacock with a noble name.
He stepped closer, flicking his fingers.
A gust of wind magic knocked the rest of her papers into the water.
The others laughed.
"Maybe next time you'll use your place to wipe boots, not ask for table scraps."
Lira flinched but didn't cry. She clenched her jaw.
That made them laugh harder.
Not one person stepped forward.
Not one.
And then—the System whispered again.
A familiar chill crept through Cael's veins as translucent glyphs blinked to life across his vision.
[Fate Thread Detected: Lira Halden]
Current Thread: "Discarded" → Projected Termination
Rewrite Available: Shift Thread to "Chosen" → Possible Awakening Potential / Future Asset
Cost: Permanently Erase Emotion – Guilt
Cael didn't move.
Didn't blink.
"She's nothing, he thought coldly. Just another bug beneath the boots of this world. Forgotten before her story even began."
"So why… do I see her?"
Why did he care that she kept her back straight while being broken?
Why did he remember her vanishing when no one else did?
"I wasn't supposed to notice. She was never part of the plan. Never important."
His hand drifted toward the phantom interface. Fingers hovering over the choice.
His lips parted—then stopped.
A whisper in his mind—soft, ghostlike.
"Why do you care, Cael?"
And below that, colder still:
"What else are you willing to lose?"
He didn't answer.
He didn't have to.
Because the silence inside him already had.
He selected the option.
[Confirm Rewrite? Cost: Emotion – Guilt (Permanent)]
Yes.
The world stilled.
Time crawled to a halt as the air shimmered, like heat over stone. Sound vanished. Motion bled into stillness.
His heart didn't skip. His pulse didn't race.
But something—something—left him.
A warmth. A weight. A tether.
And when it went, he didn't feel lighter.
He just felt… quieter.
[Rewrite Complete.]
Lira Halden's fate has shifted.
New Role Assigned: Loyal Follower (Anchor Potential: 31%)
Cost Applied: Guilt (Erased).
The message faded.
And when the world began to move again, Cael Ardyn stepped forward.
Not as a savior.
But as a tactician.
The noble Ceron was still chuckling when Cael's voice cut through the courtyard.
Low. Casual. Cold.
"Ceron Valte. Still compensating for your father's mistress, I see?"
The nobles turned.
Lira froze, her knuckles white around the wet remains of her notebook.
Ceron blinked. "What the hell did you—?"
"It's funny," Cael continued, strolling closer. "Your House has such a proud name. But not many know the bastard son of Lady Valte lives three floors beneath the archives, under a false record. Or that you were never formally acknowledged by the council. Do they?"
He offered a half-smile, smooth and distant.
The other nobles paled.
"W-Wait, is that true?" one whispered. "I thought Ceron—"
"Shut up," Ceron hissed, his voice cracking.
Cael stopped beside Lira. His gaze didn't even flick to her.
He kept it locked on Ceron.
"I'd walk away," Cael said softly. "While you still have enough name left to carry."
Ceron stared, livid—but he didn't speak again.
He turned, storming off with the others in tow, muttering half-formed curses.
Silence settled.
Lira stood there, stunned. Her mouth opened to speak.
Cael extended a hand. Helped her up.
No softness in his eyes. No smile on his lips.
Just movement. Efficiency.
She blinked at him, hesitant. "…Thank you."
He said nothing.
"Why should I feel anything? he thought, vaguely aware of the cold in his chest."
He didn't feel satisfaction.
He didn't feel kindness.
He felt… neutral.
The absence of guilt didn't hurt. It didn't even echo.
It just wasn't.
"Interesting," he thought. "Even this early, the erosion is clean."
And that, somehow, was worse.
He turned away from the scene without a word.
The sun dipped below the courtyard walls, stretching his shadow long behind him.
And still, footsteps followed.
"Wait!" Lira's voice cracked, hopeful and breathless. "Thank you—I mean, really, thank you. I don't know what would've happened if you hadn't—"
Cael turned slightly, offering the barest shrug. His voice calm. Disarming.
"It's nothing. Just being decent."
Her eyes shimmered, full of sincerity. "No one's ever stood up for me like that."
He gave her a quiet nod, eyes unreadable.
She smiled. Watery. Soft.
And behind that smile, Cael measured her.
"She'll be loyal now. Grateful. Maybe even desperate to prove herself."
"And desperate people are always useful."
"That's all I need."
He turned again, walking ahead. She followed—one step behind.
The first person whose fate he'd rewritten.
The first life pulled from the jaws of erasure.
His first pawn.
The System chimed, quiet but absolute.
[Emotional Parameter Updated.]
[Guilt: Nullified.]
[Future reactions to moral failure will no longer trigger.]
Cael paused in the shadowed arch leading back into the halls.
"I saved her."
"And I lost something."
He placed a hand against the stone wall.
Cool. Rough.
Unfeeling.
"But it didn't feel like a loss."
"And that... is terrifying."
He walked on.
And behind him, the girl who should've vanished walked too.
Like a shadow.
Like a rewritten footnote in someone else's story.
But now, his.