The man beneath the banyan tree straightened.
The smile didn't change.
But the air did.
"Ah," he said mildly, as if remembering something trivial.
"Correction."
Golden text rippled faintly across his eyes.
[ENFORCER CLASS — AUTHORIZED]
Designation: RAKESH
Function: Narrative Termination
Ren felt it then.
Not pressure.
Finality.
Observers verified.
Hunters executed.
Enforcers ended things.
Rakesh walked forward.
Each step erased something small—
a crack in the pavement,
a fallen leaf,
the idea that this moment could go any other way.
"You've caused quite the inconvenience," Rakesh said conversationally.
"A Witness persisting across resets. A variable refusing correction."
His gaze settled on Ren.
"And you," he added,
"are turning a maintenance problem into a story."
Abinaya stepped closer to Ren.
Her voice was calm, but her fingers trembled.
"…If you're here," she said,
"does that mean the system has already decided how this ends?"
Rakesh considered her.
"That depends," he said.
"On whether you cooperate."
Ren laughed—short, sharp.
"There it is," he said.
"The illusion of choice."
Rakesh's smile widened just a fraction.
"I prefer to call it mercy."
The sky above the school shimmered.
Layers—thin, translucent—stacked over one another like pages waiting to be torn out.
[LOCAL REALITY PRIORITY OVERRIDE]
Ren's wrist burned.
"Error Archive" — ACCESS RESTRICTED
Authority conflict detected
"…He's suppressing you," Abinaya whispered.
Ren nodded grimly.
"Enforcers outrank anomalies."
Rakesh stopped a few steps away.
Close enough that Ren could see his shadow now—
still lagging,
still wrong.
"You have two options," Rakesh said.
He raised one finger.
"Option one: the Witness is erased. Cleanly. You're reset with reduced anomaly tolerance. You won't remember her."
Abinaya inhaled sharply.
Rakesh raised a second finger.
"Option two: you resist. The zone collapses. Collateral damage increases. Eventually, I erase you both."
He lowered his hand.
"Either way," he said gently,
"this ends today."
Silence fell.
Not the system's silence.
Human silence.
Ren didn't look at Abinaya.
He already knew what he'd choose.
But Abinaya—
Abinaya surprised him.
She stepped forward.
"No," she said.
Rakesh blinked.
"Excuse me?"
She met his gaze without fear.
"You're wrong," Abinaya said slowly.
"This doesn't end today."
Rakesh studied her—truly studied her—for the first time.
"…You're still incomplete," he said.
"You don't have the authority to—"
"I don't need authority," she replied.
"I just need to remember."
Something shifted.
Not in the sky.
Not in the system.
In her.
[LIMINAL WITNESS — DEEP STATE TRIGGERED]
Memory convergence in progress
Ren's head snapped toward her.
"Abinaya—wait—"
Too late.
Her eyes reflected the layers above the sky.
Not gold.
Not red.
Clear.
"I remember standing here," she said softly.
"I remember you dying. I remember choosing wrong."
Rakesh took a step back.
Just one.
That alone was terrifying.
"…That's impossible," he said.
Abinaya turned to Ren.
Her smile was gentle—and unbearably sad.
"This time," she said,
"let me choose."
The school grounds began to fracture.
Reality didn't shatter—
It peeled.
[CRITICAL EVENT]
Witness Authority exceeding local bounds
Rakesh's smile vanished.
"For the record," he said coldly,
"I did offer mercy."
Ren grabbed Abinaya's hand.
"No," he said fiercely.
"We choose together."
The red symbol on his wrist flared.
The Error Archive screamed open.
Above them—
Something ancient leaned closer.
Not to correct.
But to watch.