Chapter 8: The Counting Man
POV: Adam/Pavel
The first time Adam noticed the man, he was preventing Dubrov from walking into a tent stake. It was a small thing—reaching out to catch his fellow soldier's arm as Dubrov, distracted by a conversation about rations, was about to collide with the obstacle.
But from the corner of his eye, Adam caught a glimpse of movement. A figure in the rough clothing of a camp follower, partially concealed by the shadow of a supply wagon. The man held something small and wooden in his hands—an abacus, Adam realized with growing unease.
Click. Click. Click.
The sound of beads moving along wires, followed by the scratch of charcoal on parchment.
"He's counting something. And he's counting it in response to what I just did."
"Thanks, Pavel," Dubrov said, steadying himself. "Wasn't watching where I was going."
"Magnificent cheese sculptures are plotting world domination!"
When Adam looked back toward the wagon, the figure was gone.
The second incident came an hour later. A kitchen worker carrying a pot of boiling water stumbled on uneven ground, the container tilting dangerously toward his legs. Without thinking, Adam stepped forward and helped steady the load.
Again, the sound of counting from somewhere behind him. Click. Click. Click. Scratch.
Adam spun around, scanning the area for the source of the noise. He caught a glimpse of brown robes disappearing between the tents, but nothing more concrete.
"Someone is watching me. Tracking my actions. But who? And why?"
By the third intervention—catching a falling supply crate before it could crush a passing soldier's foot—Adam was certain he had a stalker.
The pattern was unmistakable. Every time he prevented an accident, every time he helped someone, the mysterious counter appeared to make his marks. Like he was cataloging Adam's actions according to some predetermined system.
"Timeline interventions. He's counting timeline interventions."
The thought sent ice through Adam's veins. If someone was tracking the changes he was making to the story's natural flow, that suggested knowledge of what the story was supposed to be.
"Another transmigrator? Someone else with system knowledge?"
But the man's behavior didn't match that theory. He seemed more like an observer than a participant, recording rather than acting.
Adam decided to test his theory.
POV: The Counting Man
Forty-five interventions.
Mikhael Oretsev—though he had stopped using that name decades ago—clicked the beads on his abacus with practiced precision. The void-touched was becoming more active, more willing to alter the small details that held the larger pattern together.
Each change creates ripples. Each ripple shifts the probability matrix.
He had been watching since the moment of arrival, recognizing the signs that another system-bearer had entered the world. The speech distortion, the anti-magic field, the subtle wrongness that clung to the void-touched like a shroud.
Different system. Same fundamental disruption.
From his concealed position behind the quartermaster's tent, he could observe without being detected. The void-touched was growing suspicious now, looking over his shoulder, trying to spot the source of the counting.
Forty-six interventions.
The young man had just redirected a loose horse before it could trample a group of children playing near the supply wagons. A small kindness that prevented injury, shifted fate by degrees.
The pattern recognition is accelerating. Soon, he will understand what he is doing to the timeline.
Mikhael made his mark on the parchment, careful to note not just the intervention but its magnitude and probable cascading effects. His own system—dormant now for thirty years—had taught him to see the threads that connected each action to its consequences.
Forty-seven.
This time, the void-touched had simply stepped aside to let an overloaded soldier pass without obstruction. Barely noticeable, but it prevented a collision that would have scattered medical supplies across the camp.
Small changes. Growing pattern. The story is beginning to bend.
Movement in his peripheral vision made Mikhael look up. The void-touched was approaching his position with determined strides, clearly intending to confront his observer.
Time to relocate.
Mikhael tucked his counting tools into his robes and slipped away between the tents, moving with the practiced invisibility of someone who had spent decades avoiding attention.
Behind him, he could hear the void-touched calling out in his distorted speech, probably trying to demand answers.
Not yet. The pattern must complete itself first.
But as Mikhael disappeared into the maze of camp followers and supply wagons, he smiled to himself. The void-touched was beginning to understand the game they were both playing.
Soon, it would be time for a proper conversation.
POV: Adam/Pavel
"Dancing bears love moonlight!" Adam called out to the empty space where he'd glimpsed the figure. "Seventeen purple elephants are planning a coup!"
Nothing. Whoever had been watching him was gone, disappeared into the crowd like smoke.
"Professional surveillance. Whoever this is, they know what they're doing."
Adam was still scanning the area when a familiar bleating sound made him look down. The goat from the boot incident stood beside him, chewing thoughtfully on what appeared to be a leather strap.
"Oh no. Not again."
But this time, Adam's feet felt perfectly secure in his boots. He looked down to confirm both were still properly laced, then around the immediate area to see what the creature might have stolen.
The goat swallowed its current mouthful and looked up at him with those unsettling yellow eyes. Then it opened its mouth and produced a distinctly non-goat sound.
Click.
"Did that goat just... did it just make the same sound as the abacus?"
Before Adam could process this impossibility further, the goat turned and trotted away with purposeful strides. Like it had delivered some kind of message and was now moving on to its next objective.
"I'm losing my mind. There's no way a goat is part of an intelligence network."
But as Adam watched the creature disappear around a tent corner, he caught sight of something else. A flash of movement from the opposite direction—the mysterious watcher, trying to use the goat distraction to relocate.
This time, Adam was ready.
He sprinted after the figure, pushing through clusters of soldiers and camp followers. The man stayed just ahead of him, always one turn away, one obstacle between them.
The chase led through the entire camp—past the cook fires, around the livestock pens, through the maze of supply wagons. And everywhere they went, the goat seemed to appear, causing exactly the right kind of chaos to aid the fleeing figure.
Soldiers scattered as the animal bounded through their formations. A cart of vegetables overturned, spilling produce across their path. The creature's bleating seemed to be coming from multiple directions at once, creating an acoustic maze that made tracking impossible.
"The goat is working with him. Actively working with him."
Adam finally cornered his quarry near the camp's eastern edge, where the man had run out of tents to hide behind. But as Adam approached, breathing hard from the chase, the figure simply smiled and held up a small piece of parchment.
"Forty-seven interventions," the man said in a voice like old leather. "The pattern emerges."
Then he tossed the paper at Adam's feet and melted back into the camp's shadows with supernatural grace.
Adam picked up the note with shaking hands:
Forty-seven interventions tracked. Timeline deviation now at 3.7%.
Each change you make delays the canonical events by small degrees.
The question is: Are you trying to save the story, or destroy it?
We should talk soon.
- A Friend Who Counts
"Timeline deviation. Canonical events. He knows about the system. He knows about the story structure."
[ANOMALOUS OBSERVER DETECTED]
[ANALYSIS: SYSTEM-AWARE INDIVIDUAL]
[THREAT LEVEL: UNKNOWN]
[TIMELINE MONITORING CONFIRMED]
[CURRENT DEVIATION: 3.7%]
[WARNING: EXCESSIVE DEVIATION MAY TRIGGER CORRECTION PROTOCOLS]
[NEW TRACKER ACTIVATED: CANON EVENT FLAGS]
[NEXT MAJOR EVENT: FOLD CROSSING ORDER - STATUS: DELAYED BY 0.3%]
The system was confirming what the note had claimed. Every small kindness, every prevented accident, every tiny change Adam had made was collectively shifting the timeline away from its predetermined course.
"I'm not just living through the story. I'm changing it. And someone else is keeping score."
Adam looked around the camp with new eyes, seeing not just the familiar bustle of military life but a complex web of cause and effect. Every conversation he'd had with Alina, every interaction with the other soldiers, every use of his abilities—all of it was creating ripples that spread outward through the narrative structure.
The question was whether those ripples would ultimately save lives or doom them all.
As if summoned by his thoughts, the goat reappeared beside him. It looked up with those knowing yellow eyes and made another soft clicking sound.
Then it walked over to where Adam had dropped the note, picked it up in its teeth, and swallowed it whole.
"Evidence disposal. The goat is disposing of evidence."
Adam stared at the creature for a long moment, then shook his head. "I can't believe I'm about to ask this, but... are you working for the counting man?"
The goat tilted its head thoughtfully, then bleated once.
"I'm going to take that as a yes."
As Adam made his way back toward his tent, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched from a dozen different angles. The counting man, the goat, probably others he hadn't even noticed yet.
"I'm not alone in this world. But I don't know if that's good news or terrifying."
That night, as he settled into his bedroll, Adam found another note tucked under his pillow:
The crossing orders come tomorrow. The Sun Summoner's awakening approaches.
Remember: Some stories need to happen, even if they bring pain.
Choose your interventions wisely.
- A Friend Who Counts
[QUEST TRIGGERED: WHO COUNTS THE CHANGES?]
[OBJECTIVE: DISCOVER THE IDENTITY OF THE OBSERVER]
[REWARD: UNKNOWN]
[WARNING: INVESTIGATION MAY REVEAL UNCOMFORTABLE TRUTHS]
Adam stared up at the tent ceiling, his mind racing. Tomorrow would bring the Fold crossing. Tomorrow, everything would change.
And somewhere in the darkness, someone was keeping careful track of every choice he made.
The question was whether that observer was friend or foe.
Or something else entirely.
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