The attack didn't come for Ace.
That was the problem.
It came on a Tuesday.
Which Ace would later think was insultingly mundane.
---
The First Failure
The baker's oven collapsed.
Not exploded.
Not cursed.
Collapsed.
The bricks turned brittle mid-bake.
The bread burned.
The baker stared at the ruin in silence.
"No enchantments," she whispered.
"No interference…"
Ace inspected it carefully.
His whiskers twitched.
"…The clay composition changed," he said.
Ravenna frowned.
"That shouldn't be possible."
Ace's stomach sank.
"They're rewriting assumptions."
---
The Second Failure
The librarian forgot.
Not everything.
Just one thing.
The classification principle Ace had taught her.
She opened her mouth to explain it—
And couldn't.
Her hands shook.
"It was… there," she said.
"I know it was."
Ace felt cold.
They weren't breaking systems.
They were erasing understanding.
---
The Third Failure
The scarf unraveled.
Not physically.
Emotionally.
The color drained as the boy and girl argued—
Not because they hated each other.
Because they were tired.
Because effort felt heavier.
The scarf turned gray.
Ace's claws dug into the floor.
"…That's targeted."
Ravenna whispered,
"They're punishing the people around you."
---
The Message
The letter appeared on Ace's worktable.
No seal.
No glow.
Just paper.
Ace read it once.
Then again.
Then slowly folded it.
"Uncontrolled stability creates unacceptable variance.
Variance must be paid for."
Ace didn't speak for a long time.
The workshop felt smaller.
He finally said—
"They're right about one thing."
Ravenna turned sharply.
"What?!"
Ace's voice was quiet.
"Stability isn't free."
---
The Cost
Ace called another meeting.
Smaller this time.
The baker.
The librarian.
The boy and girl.
The dragon watched from outside.
Ace sat low.
"I need you to understand something," he said.
"This is happening because of me."
Immediate protests erupted.
Ace raised a paw.
"They're not wrong to target the load-bearing points."
Silence fell.
The baker clenched her fists.
"So what do we do?"
Ace looked at them.
And for the first time—
He hesitated.
If he centralized control—
He became what he hated.
If he stepped back—
They suffered.
Ravenna watched him carefully.
"…Ace," she said softly.
"You're allowed to be tired."
That hurt worse than any threat.
---
Ace's Choice
That night—
Ace stood alone with the relic.
"You win," he said quietly.
The relic didn't pulse.
Didn't respond.
Ace swallowed.
"I'll stop scaling."
The air shifted.
A voice answered.
"Wise."
Ace's tail trembled.
"…But I won't stop caring."
The relic flared.
Warning.
Ace stepped back.
He looked out the window.
At the people.
At the fragile, stubborn systems still holding.
"…If stability has a price," Ace whispered.
"I'll pay it myself."
Somewhere—
A mechanism locked into place.
Not divine.
Not magical.
Personal.
Ace felt something settle into his chest.
Heavy.
Permanent.
---
The next morning—
Ace didn't wake up in the workshop.
He woke up smaller.
Lighter.
Weaker.
Ravenna stared at him in horror.
"…Ace?"
Ace tried to stand.
Failed.
His voice came out thin.
"…Okay," he said shakily.
"That's new."
But as the sun rose—
Outside—
The oven held.
The librarian remembered.
The scarf flickered—
Then warmed.
Ace lay still.
Breathing hard.
"…So," he muttered.
"Apparently I'm the buffer now."