Heaven answered quietly.
Kael felt it before anyone else noticed, a subtle shift in pressure that did not press down but slid sideways, like a blade testing the edge of bone. The valley itself did not tremble. The land did not react.
That was the danger.
He stood near the northern perimeter at dawn, eyes half-lidded as Structural Breathing kept the warmth calm and contained. Pain pulsed through his bones in a slow, steady rhythm, neither worsening nor easing. Incomplete forging always announced itself in moments like this.
Change moments.
Behind him, the valley stirred. Those who had stayed moved with a different kind of certainty now. Not hope. Not obedience.
Acceptance.
Kael hated how heavy that felt.
The first scream came from the eastern slope.
Not panic.
Alarm.
Kael was already moving when the sound cut off abruptly.
Too abruptly.
He reached the slope in seconds, boots sliding on loose stone as blood resonance flared outward. He felt it immediately.
Death.
Fresh.
Clean.
A man lay crumpled near the treeline, throat opened with surgical precision. His eyes were wide, frozen in shock rather than fear.
He had not seen it coming.
Kael knelt beside the body, fingers brushing the wound.
Not Ironclaw.
Not a sect.
This was something else.
Deliberate.
Measured.
A message.
People gathered cautiously at a distance.
"Who was he," someone whispered.
Kael stood slowly.
"A scout," he said. "One of ours."
The word ours settled heavily among the crowd.
Kael turned outward, blood resonance extending far beyond the valley now, searching not for presence but for absence.
Nothing.
No fleeing signature.
No lingering pressure.
The killer was gone.
Arien arrived moments later, eyes sharp, scanning the treeline.
"This was intentional," she said unnecessarily.
"Yes," Kael replied.
"Not a raid," she continued. "An execution."
Kael nodded once.
"Heaven," Arien said quietly.
Kael did not answer immediately.
He studied the cut again.
Clean.
Efficient.
Almost respectful.
"No," Kael said finally. "This was not heaven's hand."
Arien frowned.
"Then whose."
Kael straightened.
"Heaven's consequence," he said. "Not its tool."
They buried the man before noon.
Not with ceremony.
With attention.
Kael insisted on it.
No speeches.
No vows.
Just work.
As soil covered the body, Kael felt the valley's mood shift again.
This was not scarcity.
This was vulnerability.
And that was worse.
The second death came before dusk.
This time, there was no scream.
A woman collapsed near the stream, blood blooming across her chest as she fell. Panic erupted instantly, people rushing forward, shouting, calling her name.
Kael arrived as she took her final breath.
He felt it clearly.
Poison.
Fast acting.
Targeted.
She had not been chosen at random.
She had been visible.
She had spoken in favor of staying.
Silence followed the realization.
Fear finally surfaced.
Not abstract.
Personal.
"They are killing us," someone whispered.
Kael stood amid the chaos, bones humming as pressure built within him.
Not heavenly pressure.
Expectation.
They were looking at him.
Waiting.
He raised his hand.
Silence fell unevenly, but it fell.
"This is not punishment," Kael said calmly. "This is proof."
"Of what," someone cried.
"That consent creates vulnerability," Kael replied. "And that heaven will not strike openly while it can still shape us quietly."
Arien's jaw tightened.
"They are testing response," she said. "If you overreact, they justify suppression. If you do nothing, they escalate."
Kael nodded.
"Yes."
"So what do we do," Daren asked from the crowd. "Hide."
Kael shook his head.
"No."
"Run."
"No."
"Then fight," someone shouted desperately.
Kael closed his eyes briefly.
"No," he said again.
The word echoed harder this time.
He looked at the people.
"At this moment," Kael said, "you are afraid because you believe protection means prevention."
Murmurs rippled.
"That belief will get you killed," he continued. "Because heaven does not fight protection. It fights dependence."
Arien watched him closely.
"And your answer," she asked quietly.
Kael opened his eyes.
"Exposure," he said.
The word cut sharply through the air.
He turned toward the valley.
"From this moment on," Kael said, voice carrying clearly, "no one hides what happens here."
People stared at him.
"We bury our dead openly," Kael continued. "We speak their names. We do not pretend safety exists where it does not."
Fear flickered.
"This invites more attacks," someone cried.
"Yes," Kael replied. "And removes their advantage."
Silence followed.
"Heaven thrives in silence," Kael said. "We deny it that."
Arien stepped closer.
"This is risky," she said.
Kael met her gaze.
"Yes."
"And if they escalate to mass casualties."
Kael's jaw tightened.
"Then they expose themselves," he said. "And heaven cannot afford that yet."
She studied him for a long moment.
"You are gambling with lives."
Kael did not deny it.
"I am gambling with inevitability," he said. "Lives are already in play."
That night, Kael did not sleep.
He walked the valley openly, unguarded, letting blood resonance flow freely without concealment. He wanted them to see him.
To measure him.
To choose.
Pain flared through his bones with every step, incomplete forging protesting sustained strain.
He welcomed it.
Pain meant he was still present.
Far above, heaven watched the reports with tightening focus.
"Confirmed," an attendant said. "Entity refuses concealment. Public acknowledgment of casualties."
The Heavenly Sovereign's eyes narrowed.
"Dangerous," he said.
"Because it resists fear conditioning," the attendant replied.
"No," the Sovereign corrected. "Because it teaches others how to endure visibility."
Silence followed.
"Authorize escalation," the Sovereign said finally. "But not suppression."
"Yes, Sovereign."
"Send something that cannot be mourned," he added.
Kael felt it before dawn.
Not death.
Approach.
Something heavier than a blade, subtler than poison.
A presence that did not hide its intent.
He stood on the ridge as the sky lightened slowly, watching the horizon.
The Sovereign Seed pulsed sharply.
Warning.
Not of danger.
Of relevance.
"They are done whispering," Kael murmured.
Below him, people gathered without being called.
They felt it too.
The valley held its breath.
Heaven had tested consent.
Now it would test endurance.
And Kael understood, with chilling clarity, that from this point forward, every death would no longer be an accident.
It would be an argument.