The world didn't calm down.
It recalibrated.
Hospitals changed protocols. Governments rewrote contingency plans. Medical schools quietly removed "impossible" from their vocabulary.
No one challenged Elias Murphy directly anymore.
They studied him.
At San Jose St. Bonaventure, the changes were subtle—but constant.
New observers appeared in hallways. Committees formed overnight. "Advisors" requested meetings they didn't really need.
Dr. Lim noticed everything.
"They're not attacking," she said to Glassman. "They're circling."
Glassman grunted. "Predators do that."
Shaun looked up from his tablet. "Adaptive behavior. When direct opposition fails, systems evolve."
"Yes," Elias said calmly. "That is expected."
The first test came disguised as innovation.
A new national medical directive rolled out quietly.
Mandatory Oversight for High-Impact Practitioners.
It didn't name Elias.
It didn't need to.
The language was elegant. Dangerous.
"Peer review panels," Lim read aloud. "Pre-authorization for procedures deemed… transformative."
Glassman scoffed. "They're trying to slow him down."
"They're trying to normalize him," Celeste said from the doorway.
She had arrived unannounced—as usual.
"You can't control what you can't define," she continued. "So they're trying to define you."
Elias folded his arms. "And you?"
Celeste smiled slightly. "I redefine them."
The case that followed was intentional.
A fifty-year-old man. Late-stage neurological degeneration. No cure. No approved experimental pathway.
But this time, the oversight board intervened.
CASE PENDING REVIEW — DO NOT PROCEED
The patient's wife cried in the hallway.
"They said you could help him," she pleaded. "They said you'd fix this."
Elias knelt in front of her.
"I will," he said gently.
"But they said—"
"They are not the ones treating your husband."
He stood.
And walked into the room.
The board erupted.
Orders were issued.
Threats implied.
But Elias operated anyway.
He corrected neural decay at the cellular level, restored synaptic integrity, rebuilt pathways that medicine insisted could never be repaired.
The man woke up speaking clearly.
Walking.
Whole.
The board convened an emergency session.
Celeste attended.
She didn't raise her voice.
She didn't need to.
"You attempted to obstruct care," she said evenly. "That is negligence."
"We were following protocol—"
"You created protocol to justify fear."
Silence.
"You don't get to regulate miracles by committee," Celeste continued. "You either adapt—or you become obsolete."
The directive was withdrawn within hours.
Quietly.
Permanently.
That evening, Elias and Celeste stood in the hospital garden again.
"You're becoming predictable," Elias said.
Celeste smirked. "Careful. That's a compliment."
"They will try again," he added.
"They always do."
A pause.
This one was different.
"You trust me," Celeste said.
"Yes."
She met his eyes. "I don't offer that lightly."
"I know."
The city lights reflected in her blue eyes.
"Neither do I," she said.
Inside, Shaun watched them from a distance.
"They are forming a stable alliance," he observed.
Glassman snorted. "You make it sound like physics."
"It is," Shaun replied. "Balanced forces."
Somewhere else, not public, not official—
A private entity reviewed footage of Elias' work.
Not to stop him.
Not to slow him.
But to replicate him.
The file closed.
A new label appeared on the screen.
PROJECT MIRROR
And for the first time since Elias Murphy arrived—
The threat was no longer about control.
It was about imitation