The sky above the Bastion was a pale sheet of steel, bruised with the residue of war. A thin wind traced the metal walls and echoed through the narrow corridors of the refugee quarter, carrying with it the scent of soldered iron and distant ash.
Inside the central war room, Kael stood with his arms behind his back, his neural HUD dimming slightly as new data streamed in. He was motionless—like a statue carved from logic and resolve. Across from him stood Aera, her expression firm but tinged with something gentler… something human.
"I'm leaving," she said quietly, but the words struck like a thunderclap.
The room was still. No flare of emotion from Kael. Just a long pause. Then, a simple question: "Why?"
Aera stepped forward. "Because I believe there's another way. I've seen how your system works—efficient, brutal, absolute. But there are people out there who won't follow fear or numbers. They need something else. Hope. Trust. Someone who listens."
Kael didn't respond immediately. His HUD flickered, running simulations, measuring probability paths.
"I've calculated that your method has less than a twenty-nine percent chance of unifying the southern coalition," he finally said. "Mine, over eighty-four percent. With my oversight and tactical advantage, you could still—"
"I don't want to win like you do," she interrupted. "I want to heal."
That silenced him.
Behind her, Elian stood at attention, a quiet storm of thought in his eyes. "Commander," he said to Kael, "if she's going… I'd like to accompany her."
Kael's HUD narrowed to track Elian's microexpressions. Determination. Loyalty. A flicker of conflict.
"…Why?" Kael asked again.
Elian hesitated. Then answered, "Because she fights for something I've forgotten. And I want to remember."
The silence stretched like wire.
Finally, Kael turned his back. "Take Echo Nine. Take Vanguard Six. Take what supplies you require."
Aera blinked. "Just like that?"
He looked over his shoulder, the glass glint of the HUD veiling his dark eyes. "Your goal is peace. So is mine. Diverging paths do not mean we are enemies."
She gave him a small, grateful nod. "Thank you."
As they walked out of the war room, Elian at her side and a file of soldiers trailing behind, Kael remained where he stood. The doors sealed shut with a hiss.
Alone again, he raised a hand to his HUD. The display shifted to a tactical map—her route, her chances, the risks.
"Seventy-one percent chance of failure," the HUD chirped softly in his ear.
Kael's voice was cold and quiet.
"Then we'll learn from that too."
He turned back toward the Bastion's heart, toward the training grounds, where the soldiers of his iron dream still waited.
One path had splintered.
One, reborn in flames.
Another would be carved in steel.