The first imitation happened less than a day later.
Ren heard about it at a roadside shrine, where travelers paused to rest and leave offerings for safe passage. A man spoke too loudly, clearly enjoying the attention.
"They blocked a bridge," he said proudly."Just like that road incident."
Ren's hand paused mid-motion as he refilled his water skin.
"Who did?" someone asked.
"A group calling themselves the Free Passage Band," the man replied with a grin."No banners. No authority. Told the guards they were 'making a point.'"
The echo inside Ren tightened.
Not angry.
Concerned.
"And what happened?" another traveler asked.
The man shrugged.
"Guards panicked. Someone drew a blade. Two people got hurt."
Silence fell.
Ren finished sealing his water skin and turned.
"Why did they block the bridge?" he asked calmly.
The man blinked.
"To prove a principle."
Ren nodded slowly.
"And whose principle was that?"
The man opened his mouth.
Closed it.
The echo pulsed — heavy.
Ren didn't argue.
He didn't lecture.
He simply left.
By afternoon, he heard more.
A group demanding toll-free roads "in the spirit of the guild."Another refusing inspections outright, escalating when challenged.People using the language of restraint… to justify aggression.
Ren stopped beneath a lone tree, pressing a hand to his chest.
"This was inevitable," he murmured.
The echo agreed.
Not everyone learned why the line had held.
They learned only that it had.
And mistook the effect for the cause.
That night, Ren found a camp broken and abandoned. Ashes scattered. A cart lay overturned nearby, wheel shattered.
Too much force.
Too little thought.
Ren knelt, studying the marks.
Fear-driven.Unplanned.Reactive.
"This isn't alignment," he said quietly."It's imitation."
The echo pulsed — firm, disappointed.
Ren stood.
The danger wasn't the world responding incorrectly.
It was people believing they understood when they didn't.
By dawn, Ren had made a decision.
Not a declaration.
A direction.
He sought out the next group he heard about — not to confront them, not to punish them.
To correct them.
He found them arguing near a ravine, voices raised, tension high. Six people, armed and agitated.
Ren approached openly.
"You're not ready for what you're doing," he said calmly.
Weapons lifted.
"Who are you?" someone snapped.
Ren met their gaze.
"Someone who knows why the road didn't break," he replied.
They hesitated.
Good.
"Blocking paths without understanding responsibility isn't resistance," Ren continued."It's panic with a slogan."
The echo hummed — steady, authoritative.
One woman lowered her blade slightly.
"Then what are we supposed to do?"
Ren didn't hesitate.
"Listen longer than you act," he said."And don't claim what you can't carry."
Silence followed.
Some scoffed.
Some listened.
Ren turned away.
He couldn't teach everyone.
But he could leave a trail of correction.
Far away, reports began to diverge.
Some groups misusing the model.Others adjusting behavior after contact with the originator.
An elder frowned.
"So even imitation isn't consistent."
Another replied quietly:
"That's because this was never meant to be copied blindly."
Ren walked beneath a brightening sky, the echo steady once more.
"They learned the wrong lesson," he murmured.
The echo agreed.
And now the world would learn something harder:
That not all movements grow cleanly.
And that guidance without control…
Was the most difficult balance of all.