Chapter 141: Chapter 141

High Commander Ruka sat at her desk, the low light of the nexus-lamps painting harsh lines across her notes. The Shatterlight distribution fell to her this cycle, and the thought made her jaw tighten until it ached. She hated this trial, hated everything it represented. To her, it was the worst idea Command had ever sanctioned. Games and theatrics dressed as strategy. Cadets slaughtered in staged trials when their blood should have been spilled on real front lines. She had seen too many names vanish from ledgers under the guise of “necessary attrition.”

If she had her way, she would have swarmed Nespói outright, burned it down, and taken it off the board forever. A decisive strike, brutal and clean. But no, such an act would cost too many soldiers, and the rest of Command, with their clipped voices and endless ledgers, had agreed their focus must fall elsewhere. The push needed to be either against the Neuman forces or the Princedom. Politics had strangled strategy again, and she despised how easily they accepted it.

Her own thoughts pressed in bitterly as she flipped through casualty reports. If they could just seize the lumoscystals buried deep in Nespói, then the Neuman could be broken from the skies, crushed under fliers as numerous as the airborne monsters themselves. That was the way forward, she was certain. But she was alone in that reasoning, and alone in her frustration. The decision before her was narrower: Princedom or Neuman. Where would green cadets bleed best for the Legion this year? Which region could be tested and starved without destabilizing the whole war front?

A knock at the door broke her thoughts.

“Yes, Helen?” Ruka called, her tone sharp.

A young woman’s voice answered from the hallway, polite and steady, unhurried in a way that only discipline could afford. “Reports from the Citadels, Commander. Permission to enter?”

“Come, ” Ruka said, rubbing her temples.

Helen stepped inside, carrying a tray and five glass marbles glowing faintly with compressed holos. If Ruka didn’t know better, she would have called the girl charming. Instead, she knew her for what she was: a deadly asset wrapped in a pleasant smile, efficient and lethal in equal measure. Without ceremony, Helen placed the marbles on the desk, their light scattering across the documents, and turned to leave.

“Is that all?” Ruka asked, her gaze still on the marbles.

“No, Commander. News from Nespói as well. The 17th squadron was lost. A complete wipe. High Commander Teslo’s report came through less than an hour ago.”

“Damn it, ” Ruka snarled, slamming her fist against the desk with enough force to make the marbles rattle. “Why are we still playing politics? We could burn that jungle to cinders and end it forever, and instead we let it stand! Another squadron lost for nothing.”

Helen's tone was even, but her eyes glinted with caution. “Control yourself. You know as well as I do—it isn’t that simple. Drop that much ordnance and the lumos is gone with it. The crystals wouldn’t survive the turmoil. Without them, Neuman’s skies are uncontested forever.”

Ruka exhaled through her teeth, dragging her temper back under control with visible effort. She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Very well. Is there anything in these worth my time?” she asked at last, rolling one of the marbles in her palm as light flickered from its surface.

“You’ll want to review Black and Green first, ” Helen replied. She hesitated, her eyes narrowing briefly, then added, “Save Red for last.”

Ruka’s brow rose. “Not Green? Interesting.”

“Yes, Commander, ” Helen said smoothly.

Ruka studied the aide for a long moment, weighing her words, then gave a sharp nod. “Thank you, Helen. Get me a coffee. Heart-attack amounts of sugar, as always.”

“Of course, ” Helen said, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “Very well, Commander.” She turned on her heel, leaving as silently as she had arrived.

Left alone, Ruka rolled the marbles across her desk, their faint glow reflecting in her dark eyes. One by one the holos flickered to life, each projection snapping into place with a hum that reverberated faintly through the quiet of her office. The weight of Command pressed down on her shoulders as she leaned forward, studying what would decide the Legion’s future for the next decade.

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White first: their cadets were fine. Solid, balanced, competent. Nothing spectacular this year, no sparks of brilliance that set them apart, but no failings either. They were the kind of cohort the Legion could always rely on to hold a line without collapse, but never the kind to shift the course of a war. Still, two caught Ruka’s eye, Jorin, whose calm precision steadied his entire unit when others wavered, and Ira, who showed the kind of patience and measured judgment most cadets never mastered. They weren’t flashy, but they were dependable, and dependability was the mortar the Legion had been built on.

Blue second: steady, resilient, disciplined in their way. Their tactics were drilled, clean, efficient. Again, nothing to draw notice, simply acceptable, reliable, unremarkable in the scope of the trials. Yet one cadet shone faintly against the flat background of the rest. Marrek, whose endurance and stubborn refusal to yield carried his team through a scenario where any other squad would have folded. It wasn’t brilliance that set him apart, but sheer, crushing willpower. He could grind down any foe given enough time, and that alone made him worth remembering. Ruka marked his name, even as she knew he’d be lost in the shuffle against louder talents.

Black third: the cadets moved with ruthless discipline, their formations snapping together like a blade drawn from a sheath. Every strike was measured, every retreat calculated, every movement as crisp as a clockwork machine. They were spectacular, more polished than most veteran squads Ruka had ever commanded. This was a class where High Imperator material could be found in abundance, and the thought made her pulse quicken. A few stood out more than the rest: Llylor, whose lancework shattered veteran lines as if he had drilled for decades rather than months; Alessa, quick and merciless, never once missing an opening; David, who rallied his peers with flawless signals and iron command, his voice cutting through chaos like steel through silk; Korrim, relentless in his charges, breaking enemies by sheer force of will; and Talia, whose precision and timing turned the smallest feint into a killing blow. Any one of them could become a pillar of the Legion. To have five such names in a single year was unheard of.

Green fourth: chaos embodied, yet brilliance within it. Their cadets adapted like wildfire, shifting tactics mid-battle, turning disadvantages into brutal victories. They fought with flair, audacity, and a dangerous kind of creativity. Again, better than most fully trained Legionnaires. They were raw lightning, uncontainable, but lethal all the same. Another crop of future High Imperators, if they survived their own reckless pace. Among them were Ferros, whose brutal ingenuity turned every scrap of terrain into a weapon; Mina, whose speed and daring made her look untouchable even against overwhelming odds; Be-tul, unpredictable and ruthless, as if born for war itself; Sorin, whose improvisation saved his squad again and again when the line seemed ready to break; and Lira, who combined audacity with raw brilliance, leaving carnage in her wake. Ruka found herself leaning forward, intrigued despite herself. This was too much talent condensed into one class, and she wondered, what was Command breeding for this year?

Ruka leaned back in her chair, frowning, her fingers drumming against the desk. “Why in the hells would Helen want me to watch Red last? Black and Green are more than enough. Both of them have High Imperator material. White and Blue even offered surprises. What could Red possibly add to this picture?”

Then she activated the final marble.

The Red projection bloomed, and for a moment she thought it must be a fabrication. The images were too sharp, too undeniable, yet they did not match the rules she had always known. The clarity of it left her shaken, she saw every frame, every movement, and yet she could not make herself speak of it. It overturned every assumption she carried. Her breath caught, her certainty cracked, and for the first time in years she felt as if the very laws she had lived by had been turned inside out.

“What am I seeing here? This can’t be real.” She slammed her palm flat on the comms button on her desk. “Helen! Get in here!”

The door opened swiftly, the aide appearing without hesitation. “Commander?”

“This is bullshit. This is insanity, ” Ruka said, pointing at the holos with a trembling hand. “Explain this.”

Helen’s voice was steady, calm as ever. “It’s been verified a dozen times, Commander. Ruby guarantees the validity.”

High Commander Ruka didn’t know what to say. The scene before her left her breathless, her mind racing faster than it had in years, her pulse hammering in her ears. She stared at the holos like a starving predator that had stumbled upon prey it did not know how to kill.

“Have the other High Commanders seen this?” she demanded. Nᴇw ɴovel chaptᴇrs are published on novel·fıre·net

“Not yet, ” Helen replied.

Ruka’s lips curved slowly into a dangerous smile. “Good. Make sure they don’t. I want this under my direct supervision. Find a generic reel from the rest of the year and send that forward in its place. We need to move on this before they get taken out from under us.”

Helen inclined her head, silent acknowledgment gleaming in her eyes.

Ruka turned back to the projection, the impossible Red cadets still unfolding before her in stark clarity, their every action both a promise and a threat. For the first time in decades, her chest tightened not with frustration but with something dangerously close to hope. Hope, and hunger. “You might just change everything, ” she whispered. “And you’ll do it under my hand.”