…It was concern.
And now, in this silence—no eyes on him, no voices riding his shoulders—Damien could finally feel it.
Just how off everything still was.
His core wasn't in pain. It wasn't flaring. But it wasn't sitting clean either. There was a subtle misalignment, like wearing a suit that almost fit—but not quite. A fractional mismatch between breath and energy. Between muscle and mana.
He brought one hand to his chest.
The pulse was there.
Not the heartbeat. The other one.
The Blueprint's echo. Quiet. Present. Pacing behind his ribs like a caged tide.
Damien exhaled again, slower this time, and let his head tilt back slightly.
He still hadn't checked the logs.
Not since it ended. Not since the system had reappeared—its presence humming like a second spine threading beneath his skin.
