The order came at sunrise.

  Trumpets sounded from the central towers, echoing across districts still heavy with exhaustion. Soldiers marched through the streets reading proclamations aloud while city criers repeated the announcement at major intersections.

  Vale heard it while helping Marrow repair a cracked wagon wheel outside the warehouse shelter.

  “By command of the Enforcer Council,” a soldier shouted from the road, voice amplified by Authority, “all Authority combat within city limits is hereby forbidden.”

  Vale looked up slowly.

  The soldier continued:

  “Any Authority wielder engaging in combat inside the walls without direct military authorization will be detained and treated as a threat to the city.”

  Silence spread across the street.

  Then murmuring began.

  Lyn stepped out of the warehouse, wiping grease from her hands.

  “What does that mean?”

  Vale straightened slowly.

  “It means they’re scared.”

  Marrow frowned.

  “Of what?”

  Vale answered quietly.

  “Authority users.”

  Because Authority clashes didn’t just kill combatants.

  They destroyed streets.

  Homes.

  Markets.

  And right now, the city could not afford more damage.

  Lyn crossed her arms.

  “So… people with powers aren’t allowed to fight?”

  “Yes.”

  “That sounds stupid.”

  Vale shrugged.

  “Sounds necessary.”

  Behind them, refugees whispered anxiously.

  Authority users were rare.

  But everyone knew when they fought.

  And lately-

  They fought often.

  Marrow spat to the side.

  “Factions won’t like that.”

  “No,” Vale agreed.

  “They won’t.”

  And he suspected the ban wouldn’t last long.

  He was proven right before noon.

  Shouting erupted two districts away.

  Vale felt Authority clash before he heard it.

  Pressure rippled across the air, subtle but unmistakable. Protector Authority stirred instinctively, reacting to violent power use nearby.

  He cursed quietly.

  “Already?”

  Lyn blinked.

  “What?”

  “Authority fight.”

  “Already banned.”

  “Yes.”

  “So?”

  Vale grabbed his coat.

  “So someone ignored the ban.”

  And that meant trouble.

  District Nine was already in chaos when Vale arrived.

  Two groups faced each other across a shattered market square.

  Soldiers struggled to push civilians away while merchants dragged goods into cover.

  At the center—

  Authority users.

  Vale recognized them.

  The bronze-armored Iron Crown warrior stood amid cracked stone, hammer glowing faintly. Across from him, three Freewind-aligned fighters surrounded a floating woman wreathed in spiraling air currents.

  Wind Authority.

  Lyn groaned behind Vale.

  “You’ve got to be kidding.”

  Soldiers shouted desperately:

  “Stand down!”

  “Authority combat forbidden!”

  Neither side listened.

  The Iron Crown warrior roared:

  “You sabotaged supply lines!”

  Wind Authority snapped back:

  “You’re starving districts!”

  Wind gusted violently, ripping loose banners.

  Stone cracked beneath golden Authority pressure.

  Vale exhaled sharply.

  Politics.

  Again.

  A merchant caravan lay wrecked nearby.

  Crates broken.

  Bodies covered with cloth.

  Meaning someone blamed someone else.

  And power answered.

  He pushed through soldiers.

  A captain grabbed his arm.

  “Stop them!”

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  Vale sighed.

  “Working on it.”

  He stepped into the plaza.

  Authority pressure flared automatically.

  Both combatants froze slightly.

  Recognition.

  Wind Authority frowned.

  “Not now, Vale.”

  The Iron Crown warrior growled:

  “Stay out of this.”

  Vale crossed his arms.

  “You heard the announcement.”

  Silence stretched.

  Wind Authority scoffed.

  “Announcement doesn’t change reality.”

  Vale glanced at wreckage.

  “Someone attacked this caravan.”

  Iron Crown warrior spat.

  “Freewind sympathizers.”

  Wind Authority shot back:

  “Military theft.”

  Soldiers nearby winced.

  Because both accusations felt possible.

  Vale rubbed his temple.

  “Evidence?”

  Silence.

  None.

  Of course.

  Because truth mattered less than blame.

  A wounded merchant shouted weakly from the side:

  “They fought each other while raiders attacked!”

  Vale frowned.

  “Raiders?”

  The merchant nodded.

  “Masked… organized…”

  Vale’s jaw tightened.

  Saboteurs again.

  Neither faction responsible.

  But neither side willing to admit it.

  Wind Authority crossed her arms.

  “Still your soldiers’ fault.”

  Iron Crown warrior snarled.

  “Still your chaos.”

  Authority pressure began rising again.

  Vale stepped between them.

  “Enough.”

  Protector Authority expanded outward.

  Wind gusts faltered.

  Golden glow dimmed.

  The plaza quieted slightly.

  Vale spoke calmly.

  “You’re fighting the wrong enemy.”

  Wind Authority glared.

  “And you know the right one?”

  “Yes.”

  He gestured toward wreckage.

  “Saboteurs.”

  Silence followed.

  Iron Crown warrior frowned.

  “…Same ones hitting convoys?”

  Vale nodded.

  “Yes.”

  Wind Authority hesitated.

  Then shook her head.

  “Convenient excuse.”

  Vale’s patience thinned.

  “You think starving districts helps your cause?”

  She hesitated again.

  Because no.

  It didn’t.

  Behind them, soldiers nervously raised shields as Authority pressure spiked again.

  Vale exhaled sharply.

  “Fight outside walls.”

  Iron Crown warrior scoffed.

  “Not running.”

  Wind Authority snapped:

  “Not surrendering.”

  Vale muttered:

  “Idiots.”

  Then Authority surged harder.

  Pressure rolled outward.

  Not violent.

  But absolute.

  Air thickened.

  Movement slowed.

  Power dampened.

  Both Authority users stiffened in surprise.

  Protector Authority suppressed aggression.

  Combat intent faltered.

  Wind Authority stared.

  “…You’re getting stronger.”

  Vale shrugged.

  “You’re getting predictable.”

  Iron Crown warrior glared.

  “Move.”

  Vale didn’t.

  “Arrest them if they continue,” he told nearby soldiers.

  The captain blinked.

  “…Both?”

  “Yes.”

  Silence stretched.

  Because arresting Authority users was dangerous.

  Wind Authority clenched her fists.

  Then exhaled sharply.

  “Fine.”

  Wind died.

  She stepped back.

  Iron Crown warrior cursed.

  Then lowered hammer reluctantly.

  Soldiers rushed forward cautiously.

  Crowd murmured in relief.

  Vale turned away.

  Problem solved.

  For now.

  But as he left, Wind Authority’s voice followed:

  “You can’t stop this forever.”

  Vale didn’t look back.

  “I don’t need forever.”

  Only long enough.

  Later, as Vale walked back toward District Seven, Lyn shook her head.

  “That ban’s not going to hold.”

  “No.”

  “People with power don’t like rules.”

  “Yes.”

  Silence stretched.

  Then Lyn frowned.

  “What happens when they ignore it again?”

  Vale answered quietly.

  “Then someone gets hurt.”

  Because power never surrendered quietly.

  And somewhere beyond walls—

  The hunter watched prey fight internally again.

  Waiting.

  Learning.

  Preparing.

  Because eventually—

  Authority would clash again.

  And next time—

  The city might not survive it.

  The plaza emptied slowly after the confrontation.

  Soldiers escorted both factions away under tense silence, though everyone knew the arrests were temporary. Authority users rarely stayed detained long. Politics always intervened.

  Vale lingered only long enough to ensure civilians dispersed safely before exhaustion dragged at his steps again. Protector Authority still hummed faintly under his skin, lingering energy from forcing the clash to halt. Each use drained him more than he liked to admit.

  Lyn walked beside him, kicking loose stones as they left the ruined market behind.

  “You looked scary back there,” she said.

  Vale snorted quietly.

  “Good.”

  “No, really. Like… different scary.”

  He glanced sideways.

  “How so?”

  “You didn’t look angry.”

  Silence stretched.

  “Just tired.”

  Vale didn’t answer.

  Because she was right.

  Anger passed.

  Exhaustion remained.

  Behind them, soldiers barked orders as cleanup crews arrived. Merchants already argued with officials about compensation while civilians scavenged spilled grain from cracks in stone.

  Normality returned disturbingly fast.

  As if violence was routine now.

  They’d barely crossed into the next district when Vale felt it again.

  Authority pressure.

  Distant.

  Sudden.

  His steps slowed.

  Lyn frowned.

  “What?”

  He scanned rooftops.

  “…Another one.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “No.”

  And this time—

  Closer.

  Shouting erupted from an alley ahead.

  Soldiers rushed past them.

  Vale cursed under his breath.

  “Unbelievable.”

  They followed.

  The alley stank of rot and damp refuse.

  Two Authority users faced off amid overturned crates and scattered goods. One man wielded fire Authority, heat distorting air around him. Opposite stood a woman whose skin shimmered faintly with hardened stone plating.

  Neither Vale recognized.

  Meaning minor faction players.

  Still dangerous.

  Civilians fled past Vale and Lyn, panic spreading.

  A shopkeeper screamed:

  “They’re going to burn everything!”

  The fire user snarled:

  “She stole Consortium property!”

  The stone-armored woman spat back:

  “They’re hoarding supplies!”

  Vale groaned softly.

  Of course.

  Merchants again.

  He stepped forward.

  “Stop.”

  Neither listened.

  Flames surged.

  Stone fists rose.

  Vale sighed.

  Protector Authority pulsed outward again.

  Fire dimmed.

  Stone cracked slightly as pressure forced space between combatants.

  Both Authority users staggered.

  The fire wielder blinked.

  “What—”

  Vale crossed his arms.

  “Authority ban.”

  The stone woman glared.

  “They started it.”

  Fire wielder shouted:

  “She stole food!”

  The woman snapped:

  “They were going to sell it for triple price!”

  Vale rubbed his temple again.

  “Both of you. Done.”

  Silence stretched.

  Fire Authority user snarled.

  “Who are you?”

  Vale stared at him.

  Recognition dawned slowly.

  “Oh.”

  The man swallowed.

  “…You.”

  Vale gestured toward soldiers arriving.

  “Either walk away, or they drag you away.”

  Stone-armored woman hesitated.

  Then stormed off.

  Fire wielder followed shortly after, muttering curses.

  Soldiers arrived seconds too late.

  The captain sighed.

  “You again.”

  Vale shrugged.

  “Busy morning.”

  The captain looked exhausted.

  “This ban’s not going to work.”

  Vale answered quietly.

  “No.”

  Because Authority power created hierarchy.

  And hierarchy created conflict.

  You couldn’t outlaw human nature.

  By evening, reports flooded Enforcer Headquarters.

  Authority clashes erupted across districts.

  Small fights.

  Territorial disputes.

  Merchant protection squads clashing with hungry civilians empowered by minor Authority gifts.

  Each incident smaller than the last.

  But together—

  They painted a pattern.

  Vale listened from the edge of the command chamber while officers argued over deployment changes.

  The Enforcer commander slammed her palm onto the war table.

  “Authority users are tearing districts apart!”

  An officer snapped back:

  “We don’t have manpower to police them all!”

  Another added:

  “Monsters still threaten walls!”

  Silence followed.

  Because every problem competed for limited resources.

  Vale stepped forward.

  “You’re treating symptoms.”

  Commander turned sharply.

  “You have something helpful to add?”

  “Yes.”

  Silence settled.

  Vale gestured toward map.

  “Fights happen near food distribution.”

  Officers glanced at each other.

  “…Yes,” one admitted.

  “Because hunger drives conflict.”

  Commander frowned.

  “Obvious.”

  Vale shook his head.

  “No.”

  Silence.

  Then he continued:

  “You ban Authority fights, but hunger still exists.”

  Understanding dawned slowly.

  An officer muttered:

  “They’re fighting over resources.”

  Vale nodded.

  “Yes.”

  Commander crossed her arms.

  “So what do you suggest?”

  Vale hesitated.

  Then answered:

  “Fix distribution.”

  Silence stretched.

  Then laughter erupted from one corner.

  A merchant liaison scoffed.

  “As if supplies magically appear.”

  Vale met his gaze calmly.

  “Stop sabotage.”

  Room quieted.

  Commander frowned.

  “What sabotage?”

  Vale glanced around.

  “…Convoys attacked. Supply routes leaked.”

  Murmurs spread.

  The merchant liaison stiffened.

  “Baseless accusations.”

  Vale shrugged.

  “Investigating.”

  Commander’s eyes narrowed.

  “…Continue.”

  Vale nodded.

  “Authority fights are distractions.”

  Silence deepened.

  Because if internal chaos grew—

  Walls weakened.

  Patrols thinned.

  And something outside waited.

  The commander finally exhaled.

  “Find proof.”

  Vale nodded.

  “Already trying.”

  Behind him, alarms rang faintly across districts again.

  Another fight.

  Commander pinched her nose.

  “Get out there.”

  Vale turned.

  “Already going.”

  Night settled heavy over the city.

  But violence didn’t stop.

  Vale and Lyn moved through streets as patrols broke up another Authority scuffle near merchant quarter. Not lethal this time.

  But getting closer.

  Lyn muttered:

  “Everyone’s losing patience.”

  Vale nodded.

  “Yes.”

  “And when patience runs out?”

  Vale answered quietly.

  “Then war starts.”

  Not monster war.

  Civil war.

  And monsters wouldn’t need to attack.

  They’d just finish survivors.

  They walked in silence for a while.

  Then Lyn asked:

  “Why do you keep fixing this?”

  Vale glanced at her.

  “Because nobody else is.”

  She frowned.

  “That’s not your job.”

  He shrugged.

  “Someone’s job.”

  Silence stretched.

  Above them, clouds drifted slowly across moonlight.

  From distant walls, horns echoed faintly.

  Routine patrol signals.

  Still safe.

  For now.

  But Vale felt it again.

  That distant presence.

  Watching.

  Waiting.

  Learning.

  The hunter didn’t need to hurry.

  Prey weakened itself daily.

  And Vale knew—

  Sooner or later—

  Authority ban would fail completely.

  And when power clashed unchecked—

  The city would bleed.

  And the hunter would come.

  Because weakened prey invited predators.

  And this city—

  Was bleeding already.