I was walking down the alley behind my apartment when I saw them—two older boys cornering a smaller kid, a kid no older than I had been before everything fell apart.
My chest tightened. My hands itched. My first instinct screamed to act, to use my skills to fix things like I had with the girl on the stairs or the broken bike. But Notice's voice cut through sharply:
"Observe before action. Judgment defines outcomes. This is your first moral test."
I froze. My mind raced. I could charge in with Best Welder—force them apart, maybe even injure them. Or I could try to negotiate, persuade, distract… but what if it failed? What if the small kid got hurt?
I crouched behind a dumpster, scanning, calculating. Shadows moved, gestures sharp, voices raised. I could see panic flicker in the smaller kid's eyes. My heart thumped in my chest.
"Points are irrelevant here," Notice reminded me. "Your judgment is the key."
I swallowed. I focused on perception, on reading the scene. The bigger boy had a loose pipe in his hand—threatening, yes, but unstable. Timing was everything.
I stepped forward slowly. "Hey! Leave him alone!" I shouted. My voice rang through the alley. They flinched.
The smaller kid's eyes widened. Relief? Hope? I didn't know. I could feel every heartbeat, every tremor in the air. I imagined bending the pipe out of harm's way, subtle pressure, no one noticing. Best Welder made it possible.
I acted. The pipe twisted harmlessly out of the bigger boy's grip. I stepped closer, keeping my tone firm. "Go home. Now."
They stared at me, confusion and fear in their faces. Then they bolted, shoving past me, tripping over the alley's uneven bricks. I exhaled, trembling. The small kid ran to safety.
"Judgment applied correctly," Notice said. "You did not harm unnecessarily. You did not hesitate to protect. Moral choice executed successfully."
I sank against the wall, exhausted. My hands shook—not from skill strain, but from adrenaline, from the weight of decision. I had learned something crucial: my abilities weren't just tools. My choices, my judgment, my empathy—they mattered more than points, more than upgrades, more than raw power.
I stared at the empty alley, the echoes of the footsteps fading. This was only the beginning. The world would demand more. Harder decisions. Riskier outcomes. And I had to be ready.
"Growth is not in perfection," Notice added quietly. "It is in making the right choice when you are unsure, afraid, and pressured."
I nodded slowly. I had made my first moral choice—and survived. Maybe, just maybe, I could survive what was coming next.