Attrition doesn't announce itself.
It doesn't arrive with sirens or red alerts. It settles in quietly, like dust you only notice when breathing becomes harder.
By the third day, I felt it everywhere.
Not weakness.Interference.
The Predator System still functioned, but its responses were… thinner. Fewer redundancies. Less margin for error. Every action demanded intention. Every decision carried friction.
The Administrator had succeeded in one thing:
Nothing helped me for free anymore.
⸻
The first real test came during a joint training exercise.
Mixed teams. Public. Monitored.
Perfect conditions for observation without confrontation.
I was assigned to a group that didn't know what to do with me. They followed protocol at first—tight formation, system-synced movement, safe aggression.
It worked.
Until it didn't.
The arena adjusted. Not dramatically. Subtle changes. Floor traction altered. Enemy timing shifted by milliseconds. System cues arrived a fraction too late.
Panic crept in.
Not explosive.
Erosive.
"Stick to the plan!" someone shouted.
There was no plan anymore.
I stepped out of formation.
Again.
Every eye snapped to me.
"This isn't optimal," a Hunter hissed.
"It's obsolete," I replied.
I didn't lead.
I misaligned.
The team hesitated—then adapted.
The arena stabilized.
Barely.
When it ended, the evaluators said nothing.
They didn't need to.
The Predator System logged the truth.
[ADMINISTRATOR RESPONSE: ATTRITION CONFIRMED][METHOD: RESOURCE WITHHOLDING / SOCIAL PRESSURE]
⸻
The second drain was internal.
Sleep didn't restore me fully anymore. Not exhaustion—load. Like too many processes running without garbage collection.
The mark behind my ribs pulsed more often now. Still controlled. Still contained.
But heavier.
The Unknown Predator noticed immediately.
"They're not trying to break you," he said one evening. "They're trying to see what you abandon first."
"What do you think it'll be?" I asked.
He didn't answer right away.
"Either people," he said finally. "Or yourself."
⸻
Mira paid the price before I did.
Not directly.
Collateral.
Her access was delayed. Permissions reviewed. Assignments rerouted. She was never blocked—just slowed.
"They say it's routine," she said quietly. "But it's always after I talk to you."
I nodded.
"They're mapping influence."
"And if they decide I'm a variable too?"
"Then they'll isolate you," I said. "Or test you."
She met my gaze.
"And if I fail?"
I didn't lie.
"Then they'll learn."
She smiled faintly.
"Figures."
⸻
The breaking point came with a request.
Not an order.
A recommendation.
ADMINISTRATOR ADVISORYSUGGESTED ACTION: TEMPORARY WITHDRAWAL FROM ACTIVE OPERATIONSRATIONALE: SYSTEM STABILITY
They wanted me quiet.
Not gone.
Paused.
The Predator System flagged the implication instantly.
[ATTRITION PHASE: TRANSITION][GOAL: FORCE SELF-LIMITATION]
If I accepted, pressure would ease.
Resources would return.Noise would fade.People would breathe easier.
And the system would learn something vital:
That refusal had a ceiling.
I stood alone in the observation hall, watching simulations run without me.
Flawless.Predictable.Dead.
⸻
I declined.
Not dramatically.
Just… didn't comply.
The consequences arrived within hours.
Assignments reassigned.Clearances delayed.Monitoring intensified.
Attrition sharpened.
The Unknown Predator watched it all unfold.
"They're escalating by subtraction," he said. "Seeing how much they can remove before you collapse."
I considered the question I hadn't asked yet.
"And if I don't?"
He looked at me carefully.
"Then they'll stop waiting."
⸻
That night, the Predator System delivered a rare, unfiltered message.
Not a warning.
An assessment.
[PROJECTED OUTCOME][CONTINUED REFUSAL → CRISIS EVENT PROBABILITY: 78%][NOTE: CRISIS WILL NOT TARGET YOU DIRECTLY]
I closed my eyes.
So that was it.
Attrition wasn't meant to end me.
It was meant to end around me.
Force a moment where inaction became complicity.
I opened my eyes and felt the weight settle—steady, familiar.
"Fine," I said softly.
"If they want a crisis…"
The system paused.
For the first time in days, something like anticipation crept into its silence.
"…then I'll decide what kind."