He was waiting.
Days passed. Then more.
Asher moved through quiet regions where nothing important ever happened. Old roads. Broken watch posts. Places the Association no longer cared about.
That was where problems usually started.
He stopped scanning constantly. Instead, he checked at fixed intervals. Long gaps. Enough time for something to grow careless.
Most checks found nothing.
That was fine.
He didn't need constant threats. He needed confirmation that balance held.
One evening, while crossing a dry basin used only by caravans once a month, Asher felt a faint change.
Not a pull.
Not a drain.
Just a distortion. Small. Uneven. Like something touching soul law without understanding it.
He stopped.
Listened.
Waited.
The signal faded.
Asher marked the location in his memory but didn't turn back.
"Too small," he said. "Or too early."
That told him something important.
The fear was working.
People weren't building systems anymore.
They weren't scaling.
