The Guild did not allow Keegan rest after recovery. They allowed function. That distinction mattered. Rest implied healing. Function implied continued usefulness despite damage. When his assignment notice arrived, stamped priority red and routed directly to his terminal, he felt the familiar tightening in his chest—not fear, but conditioned expectation.
This mission was classified as Controlled Exposure. That label alone told him everything he needed to know.
The briefing room was colder than usual, lights dimmed just enough to induce focus without comfort. Keegan stood at the back beside Ophelia while the holographic projection stabilized. The image resolved into a collapsed residential block, emergency lights flashing, silhouettes moving amid debris. Civilian density: medium. Hunter response time: delayed.
The examiner's voice cut through the room. "This operation is observational. We are not testing lethality. We are testing response degradation."
Keegan's jaw tightened.
"A mid-tier Hemarch has nested within the structure," the examiner continued. "Fear domain: suffocation and confinement. Designation pending. You will enter with restricted authority. Blink Hemarch activation capped at twenty percent."
Ophelia glanced at Keegan, her expression unreadable. He didn't return the look. He already understood the subtext. This wasn't about success. This was about watching him choose.
The insertion point was narrow. Rubble choked the street, dust hanging thick enough to coat the lungs. Keegan felt Blink stir faintly, its awareness brushing the environment like a predator scenting danger through layers of restraint.
This place is unstable, Blink noted. Fear is concentrated.
"I know," Keegan muttered under his breath.
They entered together, weapons drawn, steps measured. The air inside the structure was heavy, pressing in on the senses. Cries echoed from deeper within—trapped civilians, panicked, desperate. Each sound pulled at Keegan's nerves, a reminder of past failures and the bodies he'd seen crushed beneath fear made manifest.
The Hemarch struck without warning.
The ceiling collapsed in a cascade of concrete and dust, cutting off retreat. The creature emerged from the debris like a living compression, its body segmented and grinding, limbs folding inward and outward with suffocating precision. Its presence alone made breathing feel optional.
Ophelia fired first, suppressive shots forcing it back long enough for Keegan to reposition. He moved faster than protocol allowed, Blink responding instinctively despite the cap. The shadow panther's influence sharpened his perception, narrowing the world to threat vectors and escape paths.
Civilians screamed.
Keegan saw them—three trapped behind a collapsed beam, oxygen thinning, panic feeding the Hemarch's mass. He felt Blink pull, urging him to break restraint, to end it quickly.
Release, Blink suggested, almost gently.
"No," Keegan hissed. "Not yet."
They engaged in tight quarters, every movement calculated. Ophelia was precise, efficient, but the Hemarch adapted quickly, shifting mass to block her lines of fire. It surged toward the civilians, feeding, growing denser.
Keegan made the call.
He broke protocol.
Blink surged to forty percent, shadows snapping into place around his limbs, head briefly crowned by the panther's silhouette. He struck with controlled brutality, tearing into the Hemarch's core, disrupting its fear-cycle long enough for Ophelia to extract the civilians.
The Hemarch retaliated.
The impact threw Keegan into a wall hard enough to crack concrete. Pain exploded across his ribs, breath knocked from his lungs. Blood spattered the floor. Blink recoiled instantly, forced back by the sudden drop in available fuel.
He collapsed to one knee, vision swimming.
Ophelia dragged him back, firing continuously. "Keegan! Stay with me!"
The Hemarch withdrew as Guild suppression units arrived, retreating into the wreckage, wounded but alive. The operation ended not with victory, but containment.
Back at base, Keegan was silent through debrief. The examiner reviewed footage frame by frame, pausing at the exact moment Keegan exceeded activation limits.
"You violated direct authorization," the examiner said. "Explain."
"I prevented civilian fatalities," Keegan replied flatly.
"Yes," the examiner agreed. "At the cost of systemic stability. Your blood reserves dropped to critical levels again. Blink responded unpredictably."
Keegan met his gaze. "You knew it would."
The examiner did not deny it. "That is the point of controlled exposure."
Later, alone, Keegan sat on the edge of his bunk, blood pack hanging half-empty beside him. Blink's presence was faint, subdued, but unmistakably alert.
You chose them, Blink said.
"I chose not to watch them die," Keegan replied.
Those choices will be used against you, Blink warned. Again and again.
Keegan closed his eyes, exhaustion settling deep into his bones. He understood now. The Guild wasn't trying to break him quickly. They were shaping him slowly, teaching him to survive while bleeding, to care without acting, to fight without fully committing.
Act II was tightening its grip.
And somewhere ahead, he knew, restraint would fail—not because he was weak, but because the world would demand more blood than he was allowed to give.