Chapter 37 — No Command Given
The crisis began with a gate that refused to behave.
It wasn’t large enough to be catastrophic.
Not small enough to ignore.
But it was wrong.
It formed in the center of a densely populated industrial corridor — factories, housing blocks, transit hubs layered together with almost no margin for error.
Millions of people lived within its radius.
And the gate wouldn’t stabilize.
It opened.
Collapsed.
Reformed.
Each fluctuation tore reality apart just enough to kill someone.
Governments reacted immediately.
Emergency coalitions formed.
Military units deployed.
Awakened teams assembled.
Nothing worked.
Closure attempts failed.
Energy feedback injured multiple S-rankers.
Casualties climbed.
Someone said her name first.
“Elira could stabilize the distortion.”
The suggestion spread quickly.
Within hours, it became consensus.
She was the best candidate.
The safest option.
The fastest solution.
There was only one problem.
No one controlled her.
William received the request formally.
“Can you contact her?” the council asked.
He hesitated.
“…Yes.”
“Then do it.”
He found her three hours later.
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
She was knee-deep in mud, repairing a collapsed irrigation channel in a rural district.
Hair tied back.
Clothes dirty.
Hands scratched.
She looked… peaceful.
“Elira,” he called.
She turned.
“William?”
“We need you,” he said quietly.
He explained everything.
The unstable gate.
The casualties.
The failed interventions.
She listened without interrupting.
When he finished, she asked one question.
“Who’s in charge?”
“A joint emergency authority,” he replied.
“So I’d be under their command?”
“Yes.”
She shook her head.
“No.”
William blinked.
“…No?”
“I’ll help,” she said calmly.
“But not under orders.”
He stepped closer.
“People are dying.”
“I know.”
“Then why—”
“Because if I agree to command,” she said, meeting his eyes,
“I stop being free.”
His voice tightened.
“This isn’t politics.”
“It always is,” she replied.
Silence stretched between them.
Then she added softly:
“I won’t be anyone’s tool again.”
William closed his eyes.
Conflict tore through him.
Leader.
Protector.
Friend.
All pulling in different directions.
“What if I guarantee autonomy?” he asked.
“You can’t,” she said gently.
“You don’t control them.”
He knew she was right.
“Then how do we solve this?” he asked.
She held his gaze.
“I go as myself.”
“No command.
No contract.
No ownership.
Just help.”
The council rejected the proposal immediately.
“Unacceptable.”
“We need authority.”
“We need structure.”
“We can’t rely on independent actors.”
William argued.
“She’s the best chance we have.”
“She won’t cooperate.”
“She will,” he said. “Just not under you.”
The debate escalated.
Time passed.
People died.
Finally, William made a decision.
He called her again.
“They refused,” he said quietly.
She nodded.
“Okay.”
He hesitated.
“Elira… will you still go?”
She looked toward the horizon.
Smoke rising faintly in the distance.
“Yes,” she said.
She arrived without announcement.
No escort.
No clearance.
She simply appeared near the perimeter.
Military officers rushed toward her.
“You’re not authorized—”
She walked past them.
Didn’t argue.
Didn’t acknowledge rank.
Only the problem.
The gate pulsed violently.
Space folding in unstable layers.
Even standing near it was dangerous.
She exhaled slowly.
Centered herself.
Then stepped forward.
Hours later—
The gate collapsed.
Cleanly.
Safely.
Stabilized.
The casualties stopped.
The crisis ended.
Command tried to claim success.
Official reports referenced “joint operations.”
Her name appeared once.
As an auxiliary contributor.
She didn’t care.
William found her afterward, sitting on a piece of broken concrete, exhausted.
“You saved them,” he said.
“We saved them,” she corrected.
He smiled faintly.
“They still don’t understand you.”
“They don’t have to,” she replied.
“Are you angry?” he asked.
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because I chose,” she said.
Tancred arrived later.
He looked at her.
Then at the stabilized gate.
“…Nice work.”
She grinned.
“Thanks.”
That was enough.
In Abyss, Xior reviewed the data.
Efficiency: high.
Risk: minimal.
Autonomy: preserved.
He closed the file.
Satisfied.
The world learned something that day.
Elira would help.
But she would never belong.
And that made her more powerful than anyone realized.
