Somewhere, far from the places without a center, someone did something different.
It was not worse. It was not better. It was simply… different. His body did not rebel.
There was no internal signal for error.
There was no pain. And for the first time, this was not a good sign.
Later, someone would call this point Octavian.
Not a place.
Not a person.
But a position of absolute Zugzwang—a metaphysical trap where every possible move only worsens the position, and yet, the refusal to move is impossible.
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