Argus learned quickly that being watched changed the shape of a day.
Before the match, people ignored him because it was easy. Now they ignored him because it was safer.
Servants stopped speaking when he entered rooms. Instructors corrected him less, as if worried that touching him might be interpreted as a message. Even the air around the training grounds felt different. Not quieter. Just… cautious.
He didn't mistake caution for respect.
Caution was what came before someone decided what to do with you.
Argus kept his posture small and his steps measured, moving through the estate like a shadow that didn't want to be noticed. He was still limping slightly, but he forced himself to walk without favoring the leg too much. Weakness invited cruelty. Too much strength invited fear.
Fear invited attention.
He needed a balance.
He needed information.
And he needed to understand the thing inside him before it decided to understand him first.
That night, he waited until the household quieted and the warded corridors fell into their late hours. Then he sat on the edge of his bed, spine straight, hands resting loosely on his knees.
He closed his eyes and focused inward.
The pressure behind his right eye returned immediately. Not painful, but present, like the weight of someone standing close.
He breathed in.
Slow.
He breathed out.
Slower.
He didn't chase it. He didn't demand it appear. He treated it like a frightened animal that would bolt if he moved too quickly.
After several breaths, the cold sensation sharpened.
Text formed in the darkness of his mind.
Aethric Archive (Fragment)User: Argus AethraStatus: Instability Ongoing
Argus exhaled through his nose.
"Show me what you can do," he thought.
Nothing happened.
He waited.
Then:
Request rejected.Insufficient context.Insufficient data.
Argus opened his eyes and stared at the wall.
Of course.
It wasn't a tool that responded to authority. It was a system that responded to survival.
Record. Analyze. Preserve.
Not obey.
If it wanted data, then he would give it data.
But not by bleeding on a training stone again.
He needed a controlled test.
Argus stood quietly and crossed the room to the basin. He lifted it, felt the weight, and set it down again.
He counted his heartbeats.
Then he did something he hadn't done since the match.
He pushed.
Not his body.
His intent.
He replayed the exact sensation of that moment when Lucien's spear had descended, when fear had turned into something sharper. The choice. The consent.
Yes.
He tried to touch that edge again without falling over it.
For a long time, nothing happened.
Then the pressure behind his eye pulsed once. Sharp enough to make his eyelid twitch.
Text appeared again, more responsive this time.
Experiment recognized.Define parameters.
Argus held still.
Define parameters.
So it could be guided, if he spoke its language.
He chose his words carefully, even in thought.
"Measure my limits without harming me," he thought. "Give me one safe test."
The text flickered as if the system were weighing what "safe" meant.
Safety not guaranteed.Minimum-risk protocol available.
Protocol: Micro-Adaptation TrialObjective: Improve a single action by 1% under controlled strain.Failure Condition: User exceeds pain threshold.
Consent required.
Argus felt his pulse accelerate.
A small test. No grand awakening. No stat sheet.
Good.
He didn't want a miracle. He wanted a method.
"Yes," he thought.
Cold sensation sealed around the decision.
Consent registered.Action selection required.
Argus glanced at his bandaged thigh and then at the basin again.
He could pick strength, but strength was loud. He could pick speed, but speed was obvious.
He chose something that would matter in every fight and every conversation.
Control.
He lifted the basin again with one hand and held it in the air.
His wrist trembled.
He forced it not to.
Action identified: Stabilization under load.Trial begins.
His forearm tightened immediately, muscle fibers burning as if he'd been holding the weight for minutes instead of seconds. It wasn't normal strain. It was targeted, precise.
The system was creating resistance.
He breathed through it.
The basin shook. His fingers threatened to slip. He adjusted his grip by a fraction.
The pressure behind his eye sharpened, and he felt a strange sensation like a thread being pulled through his muscles, aligning them. Not making him stronger. Making him more efficient.
He held.
His wrist steadied.
His breathing remained even.
Then the strain vanished abruptly, and the basin nearly dropped from how suddenly the resistance was gone. Argus caught it, carefully, and set it down with deliberate control.
Text appeared.
Trial complete.Result: Stabilization efficiency +1.1%Instability unchanged.Cost: Minor fatigue
Note: Data recorded.
Argus stared at the basin.
A one percent improvement.
It was almost insulting.
Then he thought about what one percent meant if it applied to every action, every day, every month.
One percent wasn't a miracle.
It was inevitability.
He swallowed, suppressing the sudden tightness in his chest.
"This is how you work," he thought.
Correct.
He closed his eyes again.
"And if I push too hard?"
The text didn't appear immediately. When it did, it felt colder.
Then you become data.
Argus opened his eyes.
That was enough for tonight.
He lay back on the bed, muscles heavier than they should be from such a small act, and stared into the dark.
He had a method now.
A safe one.
But safety was a word House Aethra didn't believe in.
The confrontation came the next morning.
Of course it did.
Argus was walking through the lower corridor toward the training grounds when he heard footsteps behind him. Fast, confident, intentionally loud.
He didn't turn.
He already knew who it was.
"Still limping," Vaelor said, voice bright with satisfaction. "Good. I was worried you'd start thinking you belonged here."
Argus kept walking.
Vaelor's footsteps matched his pace easily. He circled around until he was in front of Argus, blocking the corridor. Two younger boys stood behind him, both full-blooded cousins, both eager.
Vaelor smiled with practiced nobility, the kind that made servants bow and made branch children shrink.
Argus didn't shrink.
He stopped. Relaxed his shoulders. Kept his expression mild.
"What do you want?" Argus asked.
Vaelor's smile faltered for half a heartbeat. It wasn't the words. It was the tone. Too level. Too calm.
"I want to understand something," Vaelor said, taking a slow step closer. "Lucien is being punished. Quietly. No one says it, but everyone knows. You made that happen."
"I didn't," Argus said. "He did."
Vaelor's eyes narrowed. "Careful."
Argus held his gaze.
He felt the instinct to lower his eyes, to let Vaelor win the moment.
He refused.
Not because he wanted to fight.
Because he needed Vaelor to learn something early.
Argus would not be an easy toy anymore.
Vaelor leaned in, voice dropping. "Father visited you."
Argus didn't react, but he stored the information. Vaelor had ears in places he shouldn't.
"That means you're on the board," Vaelor continued. "And I don't like pieces I didn't place."
Argus looked past Vaelor at the two boys behind him. Both were watching Argus like they were waiting for permission to laugh.
Vaelor followed his gaze and chuckled. "They wanted to see it. The thing you did."
Argus's skin prickled. So that was it. Not vengeance. Not pride.
Testing.
Vaelor wanted proof Argus was either a threat or a fluke.
Threats could be crushed. Flukes could be humiliated until they stopped being interesting.
Argus let his eyes drift back to Vaelor.
"I don't know what you mean," he said.
Vaelor's smile sharpened. "Yes, you do."
He lifted a hand and shoved Argus lightly in the chest.
It wasn't meant to hurt. It was meant to command.
Argus took a single step back, letting it look like weakness.
Vaelor relaxed, satisfied.
Then Argus stepped forward again, returning to the exact spot he'd been in before, posture unchanged.
Not defiant.
Just… steady.
Vaelor's brow twitched. "Do it again," he said, voice colder. "Push back. Show me."
Argus kept his face blank.
Inside, he ran calculations.
If he fought Vaelor here, he'd lose. Even if he could land a hit, the consequences would be immediate. Punishment. Isolation. The system would be forced into a bigger reveal under stress. Risk.
If he submitted, Vaelor would escalate. Not today. Eventually.
What did he need?
He needed to survive without showing his hand.
So he chose a third option.
He looked at Vaelor's hand.
Then at Vaelor's stance.
Vaelor wasn't a warrior. He was a noble who used posture like a blade. His balance was good enough for a child, but his center of gravity sat high. He wanted to be seen as untouchable.
Argus's mind sharpened.
He didn't need strength.
He needed control.
He felt the pressure behind his eye stir faintly, as if curious.
No. Not now.
Not with witnesses.
Argus slid his foot back half an inch, adjusting his base. He let his shoulders soften, making his posture look less confrontational.
Then he spoke softly, in a tone that sounded like surrender.
"I don't want trouble," Argus said.
Vaelor's smile returned. "Good."
He shoved Argus again, harder this time.
Argus didn't fall.
He absorbed the force through his legs, using the micro-adjustment he'd practiced the night before. The one percent stabilization.
It wasn't dramatic. It wasn't flashy.
It was just… wrong.
A child of his size should have stumbled. Should have flinched.
Argus stayed upright, feet planted, eyes calm.
The two boys behind Vaelor went quiet.
Vaelor stared for a fraction too long.
Then his expression snapped into anger.
"What are you?" he hissed.
Argus tilted his head slightly. "Aethra."
Vaelor's hand curled into a fist. He was about to strike, not shove.
Argus saw it. The shoulder tension. The weight shift.
A punch in the corridor would change everything.
So Argus ended it before it began.
He stepped back again, this time letting his leg tremble visibly, letting pain show in his eyes just enough.
"I'm still injured," he said, voice small. "If you hit me and I can't train, Father will ask why."
It was a gamble.
Vaelor froze.
The name Father wasn't a threat in this house. It was gravity. Vaelor could bully Argus in shadows, but he could not create a situation that required explanation.
Not yet.
Vaelor's jaw tightened. He glanced at the two boys behind him, realizing they were witnesses now, not tools.
He forced his expression back into a smile.
"Right," he said lightly, stepping away as if the entire exchange had been a joke. "Recover. Train. Try not to embarrass the House again."
He turned, gesturing for the boys to follow.
As they left, one of them looked back at Argus with something like doubt.
Vaelor didn't look back.
But Argus felt it anyway.
The shift.
Vaelor had come to confirm a fluke.
He left with uncertainty.
Uncertainty was the seed of fear.
Argus exhaled slowly and continued walking, heartbeat steady, face neutral.
Only when he was alone again did he allow his fingers to flex slightly, feeling the faint soreness in his wrist and forearm from last night's trial.
One percent.
That was what kept him standing.
He looked down the corridor toward the training grounds where instructors shouted and steel rang and the House pretended it was stable.
Argus kept walking.
Behind his eyes, the system's presence stirred faintly, like a page turning in a silent book.
Data recorded: Social threat interaction.Note: User chose avoidance with minimal exposure.Preservation increased.
Argus didn't smile.
But something inside him settled, calm and cold.
This was what his second life was going to be.
Not one grand revenge.
A thousand small survivals.
And every survival would make him harder to kill.