Aiden Crest was standing exactly where the story wanted him.
Center of the lower hall. Light behind him. Students watching. Sword raised beneath the broken crisis board. The Echo Warden's second hand had risen from the floor carrying a crown of shattered ranking tokens, and every route instinct in the room turned toward the hero.
Finally, the world seemed to say.
Someone clean.
Someone bright.
Someone who looked like salvation.
I hated how relieved people became.
Not because Aiden did not deserve trust. That would have been simpler. He had bled, listened, apologized, and held the wrong door long enough for others to escape. Aiden Crest was learning. That made him dangerous in a better way.
The problem was the room.
It wanted him to replace thinking.
The Warden's crown-hand opened.
Ranking tokens spun through the air like pieces of a broken constellation. Gold. Silver. Iron. Obsidian. Each token showed a student name, then a role.
Hero.
Healer.
Blade.
Anchor.
Shadow.
