Kael Verin stayed on his feet after the gate collapsed.
He didn't need to.The pressure was gone. The shrieking energy had folded inward, sealing itself like a wound finally deciding to close. The battlefield had gone quiet in that way that didn't mean peace—just absence.
But if he sat down now, he wasn't sure he'd stand up again.
Seventeen minutes, he thought.
That was how long he'd held the line after the support formation broke. Long enough for the city's outer districts to evacuate. Long enough for the breach to destabilize instead of widen.
Long enough that someone important should have noticed.
Kael rested both hands on his spear and breathed through the ache crawling up his side. His armor was cracked where the backlash had torn through his defenses. Not fatal. Never fatal. Just enough to slow him down next time.
That was always how it went.
He opened his interface anyway.
He already knew what it would say.
[Mission Contribution: Minor]
Kael stared at the word.
Minor.
He let out a quiet breath that almost turned into a laugh.
Seventeen minutes.Four high-grade entities neutralized.Manual gate suppression.
Minor.
"Right," he muttered, and closed the interface before it could offer anything else.
Minor meant no follow-up.Minor meant no investigation.Minor meant the report would be clean.
Footsteps echoed behind him—measured, confident, far too steady for people who'd been anywhere near the breach when it first tore open.
The strike team arrived.
Polished armor. Fresh enchantments. Symbols people recognized.
They moved past Kael without slowing, eyes sliding over him the same way they would over broken stone or spent ammunition. The team leader gave him a glance—brief, professional, empty.
"Clear?" the man asked.
"Yes," Kael replied.
The leader nodded once and turned away, already recording. "Breach neutralized on arrival. Perimeter secured. Minimal resistance."
Kael didn't correct him.
He never did.
Credit followed names. Names followed power. And power had learned a long time ago how to arrive at the right moment.
Below, civilians were being escorted out in tight formations. Medical teams rushed in behind the strike force, efficient and calm. Relief always followed authority.
Kael stepped aside so no one would have to go around him.
His interface chimed again.
[Reward Allocation: Standard][Injury Compensation: Denied]
He closed his eyes briefly.
Denied, of course.
Injury compensation required exceptional contribution. Standard rewards barely covered equipment maintenance. Minor didn't qualify for anything beyond that.
"I should've waited," he said quietly, though he didn't believe it.
If he'd waited, the gate would've widened. The eastern district wouldn't still be standing. People would've died in numbers large enough to matter on paper.
Kael turned away from the battlefield and started down the fractured stairwell alone. Each step sent a dull flare through his ribs. He adjusted his breathing and kept going.
This wasn't new.
He had learned early that survival didn't mean safety. It meant being useful enough to deploy and insignificant enough to forget.
Halfway down, his interface flickered.
Just for a moment.
Kael frowned.
Post-collapse lag, he told himself. Systems always behaved strangely after unstable events.
He didn't stop walking.
He never saw the background process finalize.
[Risk Assessment Updated][Classification: Acceptable Loss]
He didn't feel the ambush at first.
There was no dramatic warning. No surge of killing intent. Just a sudden deadening of the air, like sound itself had decided to step away.
Kael slowed.
Something was wrong.
He reached for his interface—
Nothing responded.
A cold sensation slid across his awareness, precise and absolute. Not an attack. A denial.
For the first time in years, the system didn't answer him.
That was when he understood.
Not panic. Not fear.
Understanding.
"So that's how it is," he murmured.
The strike came clean and efficient, exactly the way executions always were when they were meant to look like accidents. His spear slipped from numb fingers. His knees hit the stone.
Kael Verin died without witnesses.
No announcement followed.No correction was issued.No record was amended.
The city stood.The reports were clean.The system continued functioning.
And somewhere, far above the ruins he had protected, a line of data closed itself neatly.
[Resolution Complete]
No one powerful ever learned his name.