The problem with surviving visibly was that it invited curiosity from people who did not know how to stop once they started asking questions.
Argus felt it the moment he stepped onto the training grounds the next day.
Not hostility. Not overt challenge.
Interest.
It came in the form of pauses that were half a second too long. Of instructors watching him complete basic drills instead of correcting someone else. Of servants whispering and stopping when he passed.
Vaelor did not appear.
That absence worried Argus more than confrontation would have.
He moved through the morning routine without incident, keeping his output deliberately average. He missed a strike he could have landed. Let his breathing sound heavier than it was. Took longer breaks than necessary.
He had learned, painfully, that growth meant nothing if it was revealed too early.
Still, he felt it.
The one percent.
It wasn't strength. It wasn't speed. It was control. The way his balance corrected itself before he consciously adjusted. The way strain distributed instead of concentrating.
It made everything easier to hide.
By midday, Argus slipped away to the outer courtyard where few bothered to go. It was little more than a stone path bordered by low walls and sparse greenery, used mostly by servants and guards on rotation.
He sat on the wall, legs dangling, and waited until he was sure he was alone.
Then he closed his eyes.
The pressure behind his eye responded immediately now, not sharp but alert, like a tool resting in a hand that had finally learned how to hold it.
Aethric Archive (Fragment)Status: Stable under current loadAdaptive capacity: Limited
"Show me what limited means," Argus thought.
A pause.
Define scope.
He considered.
"I want to repeat last night's test," he decided. "Same action. Slightly higher strain."
Another pause, longer this time.
Risk increased.Marginal instability probable.Proceed?
Argus hesitated.
The word probable carried weight.
But waiting carried its own risks.
"Yes," he thought.
The pressure behind his eye tightened.
Trial accepted.
He lifted his right arm and placed his palm flat against the stone wall. The surface was cool, textured.
At first, nothing happened.
Then resistance bloomed beneath his skin.
Not external. Internal.
It felt like his muscles were being asked to do the same task while someone subtly altered the rules governing them. Fibers strained out of alignment, then were forced back into order.
Argus gritted his teeth and breathed.
He focused on even distribution. Wrist. Forearm. Shoulder. Core.
The strain increased.
His vision darkened at the edges. Not from pain, but from effort.
He adjusted his stance by a fraction, grounding himself more firmly.
The pressure spiked once more.
Then—
It released.
Argus nearly stumbled as the resistance vanished, catching himself with a sharp inhale. His arm trembled, muscles burning as if he'd trained for hours.
Text appeared.
Trial complete.Result: Stabilization efficiency +1.3%Cumulative gain applied.Instability: Slight increase detected.Recommendation: Rest.
Argus lowered his arm slowly.
Two percent.
That was still nothing to boast about.
But he could feel it now. Not as a number, but as absence. The absence of waste. Of unnecessary motion.
"This stacks," he thought.
Correct.Diminishing returns apply per action category.
"So I need variety."
Correct.
Argus opened his eyes.
The system wasn't generous.
But it was honest.
He swung his legs off the wall and stood, rolling his shoulder gently. He would stop here. Pushing further would draw attention he couldn't afford.
As he turned to leave, a voice cut across the courtyard.
"Still hiding out here?"
Argus froze for half a second, then relaxed.
He turned.
Theron Aethra stood several paces away, arms crossed, training blade resting against his shoulder. Broad-shouldered, straight-backed, the kind of presence that commanded space without effort.
The martial loyalist.
Argus inclined his head. "I like the quiet."
Theron snorted. "Weak answer."
Argus didn't rise to it.
Theron studied him openly, eyes sharp but not cruel. "You held your ground against Vaelor."
Argus said nothing.
"That wasn't luck," Theron continued. "And it wasn't strength. You didn't strike. You didn't retreat."
He stepped closer. "What did you do?"
Argus met his gaze. Theron wasn't probing for dominance. He was assessing.
"I stood," Argus said.
Theron frowned. "That's not an answer."
"It's the only one I have."
Silence stretched.
Theron exhaled and shook his head. "You're trouble."
Argus felt the familiar tightening in his chest. "I don't want to be."
"That's the problem," Theron replied. "The ones who don't want it are the ones who change things."
Argus didn't respond.
Theron studied him for another moment, then straightened. "You should be careful. Vaelor won't let this go."
"I know."
Theron hesitated, then added, "Neither will Eldric."
That name landed heavier than any shove.
Argus kept his expression neutral. "I haven't done anything to him."
Theron's mouth twitched, almost a smile. "You existed."
With that, he turned and walked away.
Argus remained still for several breaths.
So Eldric had noticed.
That accelerated the timeline far more than he liked.
The ripple reached him that evening.
He was finishing a simple meal in his quarters when the door opened without knocking.
Vaelor stepped inside.
No cousins this time. No audience.
Just him.
Argus set the bowl down carefully and stood.
"Bold," Argus said quietly. "Coming alone."
Vaelor's smile was tight. Controlled. "You think I need an audience for you?"
Argus didn't answer.
Vaelor circled the room slowly, inspecting it like it belonged to him. "Father hasn't said anything," he said. "That bothers me."
He stopped in front of Argus. "Lucien is being transferred."
Argus's eyes flickered. "Where?"
"Outer province," Vaelor said. "Training detail. Quiet exile."
So Lucien had paid the price.
"And you," Vaelor continued, voice lowering, "walk away with rumors."
Argus met his gaze. "I didn't ask for them."
"No," Vaelor agreed. "But you're benefiting."
He leaned in. "So here's how this goes. You keep your head down. You don't repeat whatever you did. You don't make Father curious again."
"And if I don't?" Argus asked.
Vaelor's smile sharpened. "Then I stop being careful."
Argus considered him.
Not as a brother.
As a variable.
Vaelor relied on status, not strength. On fear, not skill. He needed witnesses to win. Alone, he was smaller than he thought.
Still dangerous.
Argus let his shoulders slump slightly. Let uncertainty show.
"I'll do my best," he said.
Vaelor studied him, searching for mockery. Finding none, he straightened.
"Good," he said. "Because next time, I won't shove."
He turned and left, door clicking shut behind him.
Argus remained standing long after.
Only when he was sure Vaelor was gone did he sit back down, fingers curling slowly.
The system stirred faintly.
Data recorded: Threat escalation confirmed.Recommendation: Increase adaptability breadth.
Argus exhaled.
"I know," he thought.
He looked down at his hands.
Two percent.
That was all he had gained so far.
But two percent had kept him standing. Had kept Vaelor from striking. Had turned curiosity into caution.
He didn't need miracles.
He needed time.
Outside, the House of Aethra continued as it always had. Training. Politics. Quiet cruelty wrapped in tradition.
Inside, Argus felt the slow, steady accumulation of something dangerous.
Not power.
Momentum.
And momentum, once it started, was hard to stop.