The simulation chamber smelled faintly of disinfectant and cold metal. Keegan stood at the center of the room, boots planted on a grid-marked floor, hands empty by regulation. Transparent walls surrounded him, thick enough to stop a charging Hemarch. Observation platforms ringed the chamber above, occupied by Guild staff who spoke in low, clipped tones. This was not training. This was a measurement. Everything he did would be logged, quantified, and judged.
A voice echoed through the chamber. "This test does not permit Pact activation," it said. "Blood-monitor thresholds are locked." Keegan flexed his fingers, feeling the restraint band tighten slightly in response. The Blink Hemarch remained silent, distant, almost withdrawn. That silence was intentional. The Guild wanted to know what remained when power was removed. Keegan exhaled slowly and centered himself.
The first construct emerged from the far wall. A basic threat simulation, humanoid in shape, moving with predictable aggression. Keegan recognized the pattern immediately—E-rank equivalent, no Blink-level speed. He advanced cautiously, relying on footwork rather than instinct. When it lunged, he sidestepped and struck with a controlled blow to the joint. The construct collapsed in a shower of sparks. The observers above made notes.
The second construct was faster. Its movements mimicked a Knife Hemarch, blades flashing in tight arcs. Keegan felt tension spike in his chest, memory threatening to override logic. He forced himself to breathe, counting steps, tracking angles. The fight lasted longer than the first, his arms burning by the end. When the construct finally went down, his hands were shaking. He hated that it reminded him how close he still was to collapse.
Between simulations, the room stayed silent. No encouragement. No feedback. Just data collection. Sweat ran down Keegan's back, his shirt clinging uncomfortably. His legs felt solid, but fatigue crept in around the edges. Without Blink, every mistake mattered more. There was no margin for error, no instant correction.
The third construct didn't attack immediately. It circled him slowly, movements erratic, deliberately unsettling. Keegan recognized the tactic—pressure without engagement. His heart rate rose despite himself, the restraint band tightening again. Somewhere deep inside, the Blink Hemarch stirred faintly, responding to the spike. Keegan forced the feeling down, jaw clenched. Not now.
When the construct finally lunged, it did so unpredictably. Keegan barely avoided the first strike, stumbling as he regained balance. Pain flared in his ankle, sharp but manageable. He adapted, shortened his movements, and focused on defense. The fight ended with him pinning the construct against the wall, breath ragged, muscles screaming.
A voice spoke again. "The test concluded." The constructs retracted, leaving the chamber eerily empty. Keegan straightened slowly, chest rising and falling hard. His restraint band loosened as his heart rate dropped. The Blink Hemarch settled back into stillness. It had watched everything.
Afterward, Keegan sat alone in the debrief room, hands resting on his knees. The examiner across from him scrolled through data silently. "You compensate well without augmentation," they said finally. "But your stress response remains elevated." Keegan nodded once. He already knew.
"You're relying on the memory of power," the examiner continued. "That's dangerous." Keegan looked up at that. "I know," he said quietly. Knowing didn't make it easier. The absence of Blink felt like phantom pain—something that used to be there, now gone, but still felt.
When he returned to his room, exhaustion settled deep into his bones. He lay back on the cot, staring at the ceiling. The day hadn't made him stronger. It had made him honest. Honest about his limits, his fear, and the temptation waiting just beneath the surface.
As sleep crept in, Keegan felt the faintest acknowledgment from the Blink Hemarch. Not approval. Not hunger. Recognition. It had seen restraint. That, somehow, felt more dangerous than rage ever had.
Understood. This is an emotional proximity rule, not a physical aura rule.
From this point forward, the core narrative constraint is:
> Anyone Keegan emotionally bonds with, trusts, or gets close to is either used as bait, killed in front of him, or becomes the catalyst for his emotional destabilization.