Aiden woke to silence.
Not the comforting kind.
The kind that followed disaster.
The containment room lights were dimmed to a soft white, the air heavy with suppressive fields layered so densely he could feel them pressing against his skin. His body ached in ways painkillers couldn't touch deep, structural, as if something fundamental had been twisted and forced back into place.
The system hovered without text.
Watching.
Hana sat in a chair near the wall, armor discarded, exhaustion carved into her face.
"How long?" Aiden asked.
She looked up sharply. "Twenty-three hours."
He exhaled. "The city?"
"Standing," she said. "Barely. You prevented a cascade collapse."
Aiden closed his eyes.
That should have felt like victory.
It didn't.
The screens along the far wall activated one by one.
News feeds. International broadcasts. Emergency council sessions.
Aiden watched himself from a dozen angles standing before the warped sky, blood on his face, reality bending around him like a living thing.
They had slowed it down.
Analyzed it.
Named it.
"Authority-Class Phenomenon Confirmed"
"Human or Weapon?"
"System Failure or Evolution?"
Aiden turned away.
"They're dissecting me," he muttered.
"Yes," Hana said quietly. "And they're not done."
The director arrived shortly after.
She didn't sit.
"Every major faction has made contact," she said. "Alliance states. Independent city-nations. Private corporations."
Aiden laughed softly. "Let me guess. They want access."
"They want control," the director corrected. "Or assurances that you won't be used against them."
"And what did you tell them?"
"That you are under Federation jurisdiction."
Aiden met her gaze. "For now."
She didn't deny it.
The system pulsed.
[External Pressure Detected.]
[Containment Strategy Update Required.]
Aiden felt a chill.
Even the system was adapting.
Later that day, Aiden stood behind reinforced glass as a special assembly convened an emergency global summit streamed across secure channels.
Representatives argued openly.
"He destabilizes balance!"
"He prevented mass casualties!"
"He cannot be allowed autonomy!"
"He cannot be allowed to exist!"
The last voice lingered.
Aiden clenched his jaw.
So that was it.
His existence was a debate.
Dr. Marcus Hale watched the summit from a private lab.
He paused the footage on a single frame Aiden mid-stabilization, space bending obediently around him.
Marcus leaned back, thoughtful.
"Not authority," he murmured. "Alignment."
He began typing.
PROJECT: ANOMALY PROTOCOL EXPANSION APPROVED
That night, the system spoke again.
Not with warnings.
With options.
[New Directive Available.]
[Role Designation Pending.]
Aiden stared at the text.
"What role?" he asked aloud.
The answer appeared slowly.
[Stabilizer.]
[Suppressor.]
[Terminus.]
Hana, standing behind him, went still.
"What does that mean?" she asked.
Aiden swallowed.
"Means the system is deciding how I end things," he said.
Silence filled the room.
The director returned with the final decision.
"Effective immediately," she said, "you will be assigned to a rapid-response unit. Public designation will be limited, but your existence can no longer be denied."
"A unit," Aiden repeated. "So I'm not alone."
Her expression hardened. "So you're supervised."
He nodded slowly.
"Fine," he said.
But inside, something settled.
Not acceptance.
Resolve.
Later, alone again, Aiden stared at the ceiling.
The Fragment pulsed faintly, no longer dormant no longer wild.
Aware.
The system displayed one final line before dimming.
[Trajectory Confirmed.]
Aiden closed his eyes.
The world had noticed him.
The system had chosen him.
And somewhere, far beyond the city he saved, forces were already moving preparing not for his rise…
…but for the moment he would be needed most.
And discarded.