I stayed in the warehouse long after the erasure ended.
Not because there was anything left to see—but because I needed to be sure. Forgotten magic had a habit of leaving behind lies that looked like truth.
I extended my senses one last time.
Nothing.
No distortion. No echo layer. No residue.
He was truly gone.
[Status confirmed.]
[Erasure complete. No rebound detected.]
I let out a slow breath I hadn't realized I was holding.
"So that's it," I murmured. "That's how a Guardian ends."
Not in battle.
Not screaming.
But choosing to remove himself from existence because there was nothing left worth remembering.
The thought chilled me more than any monster could.
I left the warehouse as quietly as I'd entered. Outside, the canal water flowed normally again, reflecting the pale afternoon sky. People passed nearby, unaware that a walking erasure had just vanished a few streets away.
That ignorance was mercy.
As I walked back toward the central districts, my mind replayed everything I'd seen.
He hadn't been insane.
He hadn't been evil.
He'd simply crossed a line too many times.
[Memory erosion risk recalculated.]
[Long-term projection: Critical without regulation.]
"Regulation," I said softly. "That's the key."
Power wasn't the problem.
Frequency was.
The more often forgotten magic was used, the faster erosion accelerated. It wasn't linear—it compounded. Each use made the next cheaper… and more dangerous.
I stopped walking.
"That means I need rules."
The idea settled heavily in my mind, solid and necessary.
Not laws written by kings or gods—but rules I would never break.
I raised my hand and quietly spoke.
"System. Create a restriction protocol."
A pause.
[Guardian authority insufficient for hard locks.]
[Soft restrictions possible.]
"That's enough."
The blue interface unfolded before me.
Guardian Restriction Protocol (Provisional)
No erasure spells on living beings
Exception: Absolute extinction-level threat
Fragments may not be awakened consecutively
Minimum stabilization period required
No forgotten magic usage in populated zones
Unless collateral risk exceeds erosion risk
Memory Anchor techniques must be prioritized over sealing or erasure
If personal identity degradation exceeds threshold—withdraw immediately
The final line lingered longer than the others.
[Warning.]
[Personal identity metrics partially unavailable.]
I smiled thinly.
"Of course they are."
Still, rules mattered—even imperfect ones.
I dismissed the interface and continued walking.
By the time I reached the guild hall, evening had settled in. Lanterns flickered to life, casting warm light over stone and steel. The quest board had changed—new notices pinned, old ones removed.
I found the Canal District report and marked it complete.
The clerk glanced up. "That was fast."
"It stopped spreading," I said. "Whatever caused it won't be a problem again."
She nodded, already moving on. "Good work, Echo."
Echo.
The name didn't hurt anymore.
That scared me a little.
As I turned to leave, I felt it again—not a pull, not a resonance, but something subtler.
Recognition.
Somewhere nearby, something old had noticed me.
Not hostile.
Not friendly.
Aware.
I didn't look around.
Some things were better acknowledged later.
I stepped back into the city, my pace steady.
I had seen what happened when a Guardian chose wrong.
Now I knew the lines I could never cross.
And as long as I remembered those lines—
Even if I forgot everything else—
I would not become what the world had already lost.