Aarav woke up knowing something was missing.
Not like beforeno sharp hole, no echoing absence. This was quieter. Subtler.
Like a shadow that didn't belong to him.
He sat up slowly on the glowing bed in Crossfall. The ceiling shifted in gentle colors, pretending everything was fine.
It wasn't.
He pressed his hand to his chest. The new symbolthe one layered over the oldburned faintly, like an afterimage of pain.
Mira was sitting in the corner, knees pulled to her chest, eyes red.
She'd been there the whole time.
"You're awake," she said.
"What did I lose?" he asked.
She hesitated.
"That's not how it works anymore."
Aarav frowned. "What do you mean?"
"You didn't lose a memory," she said. "You lost a possibility."
He stared at her. "Explain that like I'm not cosmic."
She sighed. "There are futures you can no longer reach."
Aarav's stomach dropped. "Like…?"
Mira looked away.
"You will never grow old," she said.
"You will never have a quiet life."
"You will never be ordinary again."
Aarav laughed weakly. "I think that ship sailed."
Mira didn't smile.
"You also removed three major outcome paths," she continued. "One of them… was happiness."
That hurt more than anything else.
Aarav lay back, staring at the ceiling.
"So I'm… unsustainable," he whispered.
Mira nodded.
"You can't exist forever the way you are," she said. "Reality doesn't allow constants to remain stable. You're not part of the flow anymore. You're resisting it."
"Isn't that good?"
"No," she said softly. "It's heroic. But it's not good."
The door rippled open.
Caelum stepped in.
His silver eyes looked dimmer than before.
"You've been reclassified," he said.
Aarav sighed. "Yeah, I heard. Cosmic problem child."
"Worse," Caelum said. "You are now an entropy sink."
Aarav blinked. "That sounds medical."
"It isn't," Caelum replied. "It means that instead of the universe distributing its losses naturally, it's starting to give them to you."
Aarav swallowed.
"So every time I save a world…"
"You absorb what it can't keep," Caelum said. "Pain. Contradictions. Endings."
"That sounds manageable," Aarav said.
Mira laughed once.
Sharp. Broken.
"That's what every doomed hero says."
Aarav turned to her. "You don't think I can do this."
"I think you will," she said. "And that's what scares me."
Silence stretched between them.
Outside, Crossfall hummed quietlylife between impossibilities.
Aarav sat up.
"When I touched that Architect," he said, "I felt something."
Caelum stiffened. "What kind of something?"
"Fear," Aarav said. "Not mine. Theirs."
Mira looked at him.
"They don't understand me," he said.
"No," Caelum replied. "They do now."
Aarav clenched his fists. "Good."
Caelum stepped closer.
"They've labeled you unsustainable because you introduce infinite loss without collapse," he said. "That violates everything they are."
"So I'm their nightmare."
"Yes."
Aarav smiled faintly.
"That's the nicest thing anyone's said to me all day."
Mira didn't smile.
"Aarav," she said, "you can't keep doing this alone."
"I'm not alone," he replied. "I have you."
"That's not what I meant."
He looked at her.
"You're becoming something bigger than us," she said. "And I don't want to lose you to that."
He softened.
"I'm still me."
She shook her head.
"No. You're choosing not to be."
That hit harder than any cosmic threat.
Before he could answer, the air thickened.
Not violently.
Quietly.
The kind of quiet that meant something was listening.
Caelum's eyes sharpened.
"They're not attacking," he said.
"Then what are they doing?" Mira asked.
The room dimmed.
A projection formed.
Not an Architect.
Something worse.
A simulation.
A future.
Aarav saw himself.
Older.
Thinner.
Eyes hollow.
Standing in a void filled with collapsing stars.
Alone.
No Mira.
No Crossfall.
No one.
His future self looked at him.
And smiled.
Aarav's heart shattered.
"What is this?" he whispered.
"A projected outcome," Caelum said. "One of the few remaining."
Mira covered her mouth.
The future-Aarav spoke.
"You don't stop," it said.
"That's the problem."
Aarav shook his head. "This isn't real."
"It's probable," Caelum said.
The future-Aarav lifted a glowing hand.
Behind himdead universes.
Empty.
Still.
"You save everything," it said.
"And lose everyone."
Aarav's chest burned.
"I won't let that happen."
Future-Aarav smiled sadly.
"That's what I said."
The projection vanished.
Silence.
Aarav trembled.
Mira grabbed his hand.
"You see?" she whispered. "This is what unsustainable means."
Aarav stared at the floor.
"I don't want to be alone."
Caelum's voice softened.
"Then you must learn the second rule."
Aarav looked up. "Second?"
"You've already broken the first."
Mira frowned. "What second rule?"
Caelum met Aarav's eyes.
"No one saves everything."
Aarav clenched his fists.
"I don't accept that."
Caelum nodded.
"That's why you'll suffer."
Aarav stood.
His symbol glowed faintly.
"I don't want to be a god," he said. "I don't want to be a constant. I don't want to be unsustainable."
He looked at both of them.
"I just want to be someone who doesn't walk away."
Mira's eyes filled.
Caelum closed his.
"Then you will burn," he said.
Aarav smiled.
"Then I'll light the way."
Outside Crossfall
A ripple passed through the multiverse.
Not destruction.
Not collapse.
A warning.
For the first time in eternity
The Architects began drafting a fail-safe.
Not against a world.
Not against a civilization.
But against a single boy who refused to let go.
And they named it:
Protocol:Mercy