The Guild formalized the change the next morning.
Keegan learned this not through conversation, but through documentation—updated protocols pushed to his terminal, redlined and annotated with efficiency notes. His classification remained unchanged on paper, but the operational language surrounding his name had shifted. Where once it read assets under development, it now read assets under constraint.
That distinction mattered.
He stood in the observation corridor outside Medical, watching a stretcher roll past. The sheet covering the body was clean, unmarked, deliberately impersonal. A civilian casualty from the previous night's containment sweep. Not his mission. Not his responsibility. Still, Blink reacted faintly, a ripple of irritation beneath Keegan's skin.
Fear residue, Blink observed. This place is saturated.
Keegan didn't respond. He already knew.
Ophelia found him there minutes later. "You've been reassigned again," she said quietly. "Short-duration deployments. High-density zones."
He turned slightly. "They're increasing civilian proximity."
"They're refining pressure variables," she corrected. "You're the variable."
The next operation confirmed it.
A transit tunnel collapse. Structural failure compounded by a low-to-mid tier Hemarch feeding on crowd panic. The Guild deployed Keegan and Ophelia ahead of full suppression units, citing response time advantages. Blink activation limited to fifteen percent.
Keegan felt the constraint immediately. His movements were slower, vision less precise, reaction windows narrower. Blink pressed against the limit, not angry, but focused—aware it was being starved on purpose.
The Hemarch manifested as a mass of overlapping silhouettes, faces half-formed and screaming, its body expanding and contracting as fear spiked. People ran. Some fell. Others froze.
Keegan moved.
Not fast enough.
The first civilian died before he reached them. Crushed beneath a falling support beam, fear peaked just long enough to strengthen the Hemarch before extinguishing. Keegan felt it like a punch to the gut, Blink flaring in response.
Authorize release, Blink urged. This is inefficient.
"No," Keegan said through clenched teeth. "We follow protocol."
They fought in fragments—short bursts of engagement, constant repositioning. Ophelia covered angles, pulled survivors free where she could. Keegan targeted structural weak points in the Hemarch's manifestation, disrupting its cohesion without fully destroying it.
Another civilian died.
Then another.
The Guild handler's voice came through the comms, calm and detached. "Casualty threshold remains within acceptable parameters. Continue operation."
Keegan froze for half a second too long.
Ophelia noticed. "Keegan," she said sharply. "Move."
He did. He always did.
By the time suppression units arrived, the Hemarch was contained, the tunnel stabilized. Seven civilians dead. Dozens injured. Mission classified as Operationally Successful.
Back at base, Keegan stood through debrief without speaking. The examiner reviewed the casualty report without visible reaction.
"You demonstrated improved restraint," the examiner said. "Despite emotional provocation."
"They died," Keegan said flatly.
"Yes," the examiner replied. "And the Hemarch was contained. That is the objective function."
Keegan's fists clenched. "You could've authorized higher activation."
"We could have," the examiner agreed. "And learned nothing."
That night, Blink spoke again, its voice lower than before. You are being trained to accept loss.
"I'm being trained to watch it," Keegan replied.
There is a difference, Blink said. You still care.
Keegan lay back on his bunk, staring at the ceiling, the weight of the day pressing down on him. He understood now what Act II truly was. Not control for power's sake—but control as erosion. Teaching him to survive in a world where doing the right thing was always slightly outside authorization.
The Guild would keep tightening the margins. The Hemarchs would keep adapting. And the space between acceptable loss and personal failure would continue to shrink.
Sooner or later, something would give.
And when it did, the Rift of Blood and Shadows would not care which side he stood on.