Aiden learned about the rumors the same way he learned about everything else.
Too late.
They followed him through the corridors of the Hunter Federation complex unspoken, half-formed, carried in glances that lingered too long and conversations that stopped the moment he entered a room.
He wasn't officially classified publicly.
But secrecy had cracks.
And fear leaked through them.
The black interface hovered quietly at the edge of his vision.
[Containment Stable.]
[Authority Fragment: Dormant Elevated Awareness Detected.]
Even dormant, it listened.
The cafeteria was nearly empty when Aiden entered. Rankers preferred to eat in groups. He preferred not to be seen.
He had barely sat down when the conversation at the next table cut off mid-sentence.
"…that's him," someone whispered.
Aiden didn't look up.
"He survived the Abyss Gate alone."
"No rank reading."
"They say the system itself"
A chair scraped loudly. Someone stood up and left. Another followed.
Within seconds, Aiden was alone again.
He stared at his untouched food.
So this is how it starts, he thought. Not with chains. With distance.
Hana found him later in the corridor leading back to containment.
"You shouldn't be here," she said quietly.
"Neither should they," Aiden replied, nodding toward a pair of Hunters watching him from a distance.
"They're scared," Hana said. "And scared people talk."
"About what?" Aiden asked.
Hana hesitated.
"They're calling you things," she admitted. "Not officially. Not yet."
Aiden stopped walking. "Like what?"
She met his eyes.
"Walking Catastrophe."
"System Error."
"Unranked God."
Aiden exhaled slowly.
None of them sounded human.
The summons came that evening.
High Council chamber.
That alone was unprecedented.
Aiden stood at the center of the circular room, containment fields layered invisibly around him. Twelve figures sat above him in elevated seats representatives of the Hunter Federation, military oversight, and system research divisions.
The director stood among them.
"Aiden Kurovale," one of the councilors began, voice sharp. "Your existence presents a structural risk to global stability."
Straight to the point.
Another spoke. "You have already exceeded predictive models. Phase Two testing confirms resonance with Authority-level phenomena."
Aiden clenched his fists. "I didn't ask for this."
"That is irrelevant," the first councilor replied. "Power does not require consent."
The system pulsed faintly, as if agreeing.
"We propose a solution," a third voice said.
Aiden's stomach tightened.
"Permanent operational deployment," the councilor continued. "Under direct system supervision. No civilian zones. No unsanctioned movement."
"Meaning?" Aiden asked.
"You become a controlled asset," the director said carefully. "Deployed only when catastrophe is unavoidable."
Aiden laughed bitterly. "A weapon."
"Yes," the councilor said without hesitation. "A necessary one."
Silence fell.
Aiden looked around the chamber. "And if I refuse?"
The answer came immediately.
"Then you will be neutralized."
The words echoed.
Clean. Cold. Absolute.
The system displayed a single line of text.
[Outcome Probability: 97.3% Termination if Noncompliant.]
Aiden closed his eyes.
So this was the choice.
Exist as a tool.
Or not exist at all.
After the meeting, Hana walked with him back toward containment. Neither spoke for a long time.
Finally, Aiden broke the silence.
"They're afraid of me."
"Yes," Hana said.
"They should be," he replied.
She stopped walking.
"No," she said firmly. "They should be afraid of what they're turning you into."
Aiden looked at her, surprised.
"For the first time," she continued, "you're not the danger in this equation."
That night, the system spoke without prompting.
Not a warning.
Not a punishment.
A statement.
[Long-Term Projection Updated.]
[Subject Likelihood of Survival Beyond 15 Years: 12%.]
Aiden stared at the text.
"Only twelve?" he whispered.
[Correction.]
[12% if compliance maintained.]
He laughed quietly.
Even obedience wouldn't save him.
In another wing of the facility, a man watched Aiden's file scroll past on a private terminal.
Dr. Marcus Hale.
Systems engineer. Authority theorist. One of the original architects of containment logic.
He paused on a single line.
[Authority Fragment Growth Rate: Accelerating.]
Marcus smiled faintly.
"So it's true," he murmured. "The system didn't create him."
He tapped the screen, flagging Aiden's profile.
"It found him."
Back in containment, Aiden lay awake, staring at the ceiling.
He finally understood the whispers.
They weren't rumors.
They were preparation.
The world was already deciding how to use him.
And one day,
How to erase him.
The black interface pulsed softly.
[Observation Ongoing.]
Aiden closed his eyes.
If I'm going to be a weapon, he thought, then I'll decide what I'm pointed at.