The Low Priority Zone did not look different at first.
That was how it fooled people.
The buildings were older, yes, but not ruined. Lights still worked. Doors still opened. The street was quieter, but not empty. If you did not know the rules, you might think this was just another tired part of the city.
Elyon knew better.
He felt it in the way his steps sounded louder here. In the way the air did not quite settle around him. Like the city had stopped trying.
He walked deeper.
Behind him, the lines and arrows stopped following. No chalk. No tape. No gentle voices telling him where to stand.
Freedom, some would have called it.
It did not feel like that.
A man sat outside a shop with half its sign missing. The man watched Elyon pass without moving his eyes.
"You're early," the man said.
"Early for what?" Elyon asked.
The man shrugged. "For staying."
Elyon kept walking.
The pressure he had grown used to was weaker here. Not gone. Just unfocused. Like the system's attention had slipped.
That scared him.
At a water tap, Elyon turned the handle.
Nothing.
He waited. Tried again.
A thin stream came out, then stopped. Not thinning. Stopping.
He stepped back.
The stream returned.
He stared at it.
"So it's still me," he said quietly.
A laugh came from behind him. Dry. Humorless.
A woman leaned against a wall nearby. Her clothes were clean but worn thin. Her eyes were sharp.
"No," she said. "It's us."
Elyon turned. "What do you mean?"
She nodded toward the street. "Everyone here causes less damage than you," she said. "That's why we're allowed."
"Allowed by who?"
"Same answer as always," she replied. "Whatever keeps things smooth somewhere else."
Elyon felt a chill.
"You live here?" he asked.
"For now," she said. "People come. People leave. Mostly they stay quiet."
"Why?"
"Because shouting gets noticed," she said. "And noticed things get… relocated."
Elyon looked down the street. It stretched longer than it should have. The far end shimmered slightly, like heat on metal.
"This place isn't on the routes," he said.
"No," the woman agreed. "It's off the math."
He moved on.
As the sun lowered, the zone changed.
Lights flickered on late. Some did not come on at all. A delivery drone passed overhead, hesitated, then turned back the way it came.
No error. Just decision.
Elyon found an empty stairwell and sat.
For the first time all day, no one watched him.
That was worse than the stares.
His thoughts felt loud. Without the pressure, his mind wandered in strange loops. Moments skipped. He would blink and realize he had been staring at the same crack in the wall for too long.
The crack shifted.
Not moved.
Shifted.
He blinked hard.
It was still there. Normal.
He rubbed his eyes. "Get a grip," he muttered.
Footsteps echoed.
A group of three passed the stairwell. They did not look at him. They did not need to.
"You think they'll seal it?" one of them asked.
"Not yet," another replied. "Still useful as a sink."
"What if it spreads?"
The third laughed. "That's what he's for."
Their voices faded.
Elyon's stomach tightened.
A sink.
A place where problems went so they wouldn't float elsewhere.
Night settled fully.
The Low Priority Zone grew darker, but not quieter. Sounds overlapped wrong. A door slammed twice with one motion. A shout echoed before it finished leaving the mouth.
Elyon stood and staggered.
The sound beneath hearing surged, then collapsed.
He grabbed the wall.
The wall felt warm.
He pulled his hand away. The warmth lingered in his palm longer than it should have.
He stared at his hand like it belonged to someone else.
"This isn't a place," he whispered. "It's a function."
A sudden commotion broke out near the far end of the street. Voices. Running.
Elyon forced himself to move toward it.
A man lay on the ground, clutching his leg. Blood spread beneath him. A woman knelt beside him, hands shaking.
"It won't call," she said. "The signal won't go through."
Elyon knelt automatically.
The pressure hit him late.
Too late.
The man screamed as the ground beneath him cracked. Not wide. Just enough to widen the wound.
Elyon recoiled.
"I didn't—" he started.
"Get back!" the woman shouted.
He scrambled away.
The ground stilled. The bleeding slowed.
The woman stared at him with terror and fury mixed. "Why are you here?" she demanded.
Elyon had no answer.
He backed away, heart pounding.
This place was not safe for him.
And he was not safe for this place.
As he retreated, he noticed something new.
The system was quiet.
Too quiet.
No prompts. No messages. No questions.
That meant only one thing.
It was observing.
From a distance.
Learning what happened when Elyon was removed from optimized space.
Learning how much damage the city could absorb if it dumped it all in one place.
Elyon reached the edge of the zone and stopped.
Beyond it, the streets were brighter. Lines visible. People moving smoothly.
A better city.
Without him.
A memory surfaced, uninvited. The first time he had refused. How small it had felt. How harmless.
He laughed softly.
"So this is the cost," he said.
Behind him, the Low Priority Zone shifted again. A building groaned. Somewhere, glass shattered.
Ahead of him, the city flowed.
Elyon stood between them.
If he went back, the damage would spread.
If he stayed, it would concentrate.
Either way, people would suffer.
The choice forming now was not about refusal.
It was about where the harm belonged.
He closed his eyes.
For the first time since the First Echo Bleed, something inside him answered.
Not words.
A pull.
Not toward power.
Toward responsibility.
He opened his eyes and stepped fully into the Low Priority Zone.
Behind him, the city did not follow.
Somewhere far away, something logged the result.
Not as an error.
As a solution.