Heroes were protected by momentum.
That was the first conclusion I reached after two hours of observation.
I did not go after Adrian Kessler directly.
Instead, I studied the pattern surrounding him.
Every article praised his resilience.Every donor framed his rise as destiny.Every minor obstacle transformed into a stepping stone.
It was not coincidence.
It was orchestration.
The system did not simply reward him.It smoothed probability in his favor.
Which meant direct interference would only accelerate his growth.
If I attacked him publicly, he would gain sympathy.If I exposed flaws, he would reveal hidden brilliance.If I cornered him, he would awaken.
No.
The first rule of dismantling a structure is simple:
You remove support beams—not the banner hanging from the ceiling.
[Interference Window: 11 Hours Remaining.]
The system's reminder appeared in the corner of my vision.
It still expected sabotage.
Very well.
It would receive something far more effective.
Ashbourne Academy's sponsorship fund was structured through three subsidiaries.
Two public. One private.
The private one—Valemont Strategic Education Initiative—handled "special candidates."
Adrian's file had been processed there.
Which meant my family did not simply support him.
They invested in him.
I no longer had internal access.
But I understood how they operated.
Old money trusted loyalty.
And loyalty left trails.
By late afternoon, I had located the weak point.
Not Adrian.
Not the Academy.
The donor intermediary.
A mid-level executive named Harrison Doyle.
Ambitious. Under-recognized. Recently denied a promotion.
Most importantly—
Financially stretched.
A child in private medical care.An adjustable-rate mortgage.And a reputation built on appearing indispensable.
People like Doyle did not betray institutions for greed.
They betrayed them for relevance.
[Warning: Target Deviation.]
"I'm not deviating," I replied calmly."I'm optimizing."
Silence.
The system did not argue.
It observed.
I requested a meeting under a false pretext—consultation regarding philanthropic restructuring.
Old habits carried weight.
Even erased heirs retained echoes of authority.
Doyle agreed.
We met in a quiet café two blocks from the Academy.
He arrived nervous.
Good.
"Nathaniel Valemont," he said carefully. "I was under the impression—"
"That I no longer exist?" I finished.
He swallowed.
I smiled faintly.
"I'm not here about the family."
That was technically true.
I was here about the structure.
"You processed a late sponsorship approval last night," I said, sliding a tablet across the table.
He stiffened.
"Confidential documentation—"
"I don't need access," I interrupted."I need confirmation."
He hesitated.
Which was confirmation enough.
I leaned forward slightly.
"You were bypassed for promotion twice."
His jaw tightened.
"Your performance metrics are exceptional," I continued evenly. "Yet decision authority keeps passing above you."
Silence stretched.
I did not threaten him.
I offered clarity.
"You want to matter."
He looked up.
People like Doyle always did at that moment.
"And you," he said cautiously, "want what?"
"Transparency."
That was also true.
"Adrian Kessler's approval was accelerated."
No denial.
Which meant it had been.
"Why?" I asked.
Doyle exhaled slowly.
"Because the board believes in him."
"No," I corrected gently."The board believes in narrative."
His eyes flickered.
Good.
He understood that word.
I stood.
"You don't need to betray anyone," I said. "Simply forward the evaluation anomaly report to the independent audit channel."
"That would trigger a review."
"Yes."
"And if nothing is wrong?"
"Then nothing changes."
That was the elegance of it.
I was not framing Adrian.
I was not fabricating evidence.
I was introducing friction.
Heroes thrived on adversity.
But institutional scrutiny?
That was slower.
Colder.
Less cinematic.
[Intent Assessment: Indirect Sabotage Detected.]
I felt it then.
A faint current under my skin.
The world resisted—slightly.
Probability pushing back.
But not enough.
Doyle's phone vibrated.
A notification.
He glanced at it—and frowned.
His expression shifted.
Confusion.
Then calculation.
He looked back at me.
"The audit board… just requested clarification on the sponsorship timeline."
I did not smile.
But I felt it.
A seam in the fabric.
Tiny.
Precise.
Adrian's path would not collapse.
But it would stall.
And momentum—
Momentum was everything.
[Narrative Interference Confirmed.][Antagonistic Action Registered.]
The pressure in the air shifted.
Not violently.
Subtly.
Like gravity recalibrating.
[Reward Granted: Strategic Cognition Restored — 50%]
The fog in my mind cleared instantly.
Connections returned.
Angles sharpened.
For the first time since the penalty—
I felt whole.
Doyle stared at his screen.
"This shouldn't be happening," he murmured.
"It is," I said softly.
Because heroes were protected by miracles—
Not by paperwork.
I left the café without another word.
Behind me, a system message flickered.
[Antagonist Completion: 27%]
Twenty-seven.
From nine.
For a single move.
Interesting.
The world did not tremble.
No lightning split the sky.
Adrian would not even know what had happened.
But tomorrow—
Instead of a celebration headline—
There would be a question mark.
And question marks were poison to certainty.
As I stepped into the evening air, the city felt different.
Less hostile.
Less dismissive.
Aligned.
So this was the truth.
The system did not require cruelty.
It required opposition.
And the more effectively I applied pressure—
The stronger I became.
I looked toward the Academy towers in the distance.
Windows glowing.
Future secured.
For now.
"I won't destroy him," I murmured.
"Not yet."
Because destroying a hero too early—
Only creates another.
No.
I would do something worse.
I would make him struggle.
Without ever knowing why.
[System Observation: Adaptation Detected.][Caution: Escalation Probability Increasing.]
Good.
Let it escalate.
The game had rules.
And I had just made my first move.