Every command I give is a weight, like a blade's edge, but the stakes are not a living creature in a forest – they’re lines of code, algorithms, and a system that feeds on my decisions. I don't feel guilt the way a hunter might, but I do feel the pressure of knowing a misstep could collapse the entire network. It’s the same weight, just with a different flavor – one that tastes like cold circuits instead of blood.

Metal may not bleed, but it can crack under the wrong pressure, so I keep my blades sharp and my circuits steady.