Caelum left his penthouse early the next morning. The city was calm, as if it had no idea how fragile its peace really was. Cars moved steadily, people laughed and complained about minor inconveniences, and the sun rose normally. Everything looked ordinary. Too ordinary.
He walked through the streets without drawing attention. No flashy suits, no expensive cars, no entourage. He needed to observe, not intimidate. Ordinary meant safety—at least for now.
The first stop was a small neighborhood school. He didn't enter. He watched from a distance, blending in with other parents dropping off their kids. His eyes searched, scanning for one face. A face he had memorized years ago, but which still seemed like any ordinary teenager.
Liora Hale. Third-year, small and fragile-looking, but with a fire in her eyes that no one noticed. She was pushing her younger brother forward, her posture careful, cautious. The bruise on her wrist was faint but there, evidence of a life that hadn't been kind.
Caelum noted her movements. Nothing in this day had changed. The school would dismiss students at the usual time, the streets would empty, and everyone would go home thinking life was normal. But it wasn't normal. Not anymore.
He followed her quietly as she took the longer route home, avoiding the main streets. Three years ago, this exact path had ended with her being attacked. Now, he wanted to see if small interventions could shift fate.
A narrow alley appeared ahead. Three boys loitered there, the same type who would eventually become her tormentors. In the first timeline, she had endured the attack without anyone stepping in. In the second… maybe not.
Caelum didn't intervene yet. He merely stepped closer, letting his presence cast a shadow across the alley. The boys froze, uncertain. Liora glanced up, sensing him, but didn't move.
A single word left his mouth: "Stop."
The tone was calm, quiet, absolute. It wasn't a threat. It was a statement of fact.
The boys blinked, stumbled, and then ran. Liora froze for a moment, her eyes wide. Caelum didn't smile. He simply nodded once and turned away. The first deviation had been small, almost invisible, but it had already shifted her future path.
She didn't know it yet. He did.
As he walked back toward the street, Caelum made another mental note. Recruiting people wasn't about force. It was about timing. About giving the right choices to the right people, at the right moment.
Tomorrow, he would begin the next test. The timeline was fragile, but it had gaps. Small gaps could be turned into cracks, and cracks could become the foundation for the future he intended to build.
Above the city, faint constellations glimmered. They watched. Silent. Curious. The game had truly begun.