Renn walked down the silent corridor without saying a word.
His boots echoed softly against the steel floor, the sound strangely hollow, swallowed by the emptiness pressing down on him. His heart felt heavy—an unbearable mix of shame, confusion, and loss twisting inside him like a tightening coil.
He didn't know what to think anymore.
Everything had moved too fast—Kieran's expression, the words, the dismissal. It all played on repeat in his head, like a scene he couldn't escape.
He had been fifteen when the Academy brought him in—barely more than a boy, filled with wild dreams and fierce determination. Back then, he had been so certain of his future. He would die a Rider, he had told himself. If that was the price for glory and survival, so be it.
From that day onward, he had given everything—his sleep, his comfort, his peace of mind. Every drop of energy he had was poured into training, into pushing himself beyond the limits of his own body. Not just for himself, but for his team. For the people who had come to rely on him.
Because out here, a Rider's life wasn't his alone.
Each member depended on the other. One mistake, one hesitation—and everyone paid for it.
And yet, despite the struggle, despite the endless drills and the sleepless nights, he had grown to love it.
He had built something here—friendships, bonds, memories that were burned into his bones.
And now…
At eighteen, after three years of blood, sweat, and laughter, it was all being stripped away.
Renn clenched his fists as he walked, the tension rippling through his arms. He had been ready—ready to give his all for his planet, for his family's name.
But it didn't matter.
Because now he wasn't even allowed to stand on the field.
He thought of home then—of the quiet house that overlooked the farmlands on the northern ridge, of his mother's eyes that shone with pride the day he'd left.
He could still remember the way she had hugged him, how her voice had trembled when she said, "Make us proud, Renn."
And now, he would be returning a failure.
A bitter smile tugged at his lips, but It didn't reach his eyes.
Behind him, the others followed in silence. None of them spoke, none of them knew what to say.
Ashen walked just a few steps behind, his thoughts a mess. The reality of what had happened still didn't sit right with him, the whole situation felt wrong, heavy in a way that words couldn't describe.
He had never seen Instructor Kieran act like that before. Sure, the man was strict—ruthlessly so, but today he had been something else entirely.
Kieran had cut Renn out with the same precision as someone slicing away a damaged limb.
No hesitation, no empathy.
And it didn't make sense.
Not with how important Renn was to the team.
Pulling him out barely a week before departure?
That wasn't discipline—that was recklessness.
Ashen's jaw tightened, but he said nothing. The silence between them was thick, only broken by the faint hum of the Academy's lights above.
They reached Renn's quarters—a small, utilitarian room lined with a bunk, a desk, and shelves stacked with datapacks and tools. It was messy, but it had the warmth of lived-in space.
Renn entered first and sank onto the bed, lying on his back, his gaze fixed on the ceiling.
He didn't move, he didn't speak.
The others followed, taking their usual seats—Ashen near the desk, Lira on the old metal chair, and Jaro leaning against the wall with his arms crossed.
They had been here hundreds of times before.
Laughing, arguing, planning missions.
Now, it just felt… hollow.
No one wanted to break the silence.
Renn stared at the ceiling as if searching for answers up there, the reflection of the room's light glinting faintly in his tired eyes. He looked smaller somehow, like the weight of the world had pressed him down into something quieter, something older.
Ashen looked at him for a long while before sighing softly. He didn't know what to say—what could he even say to make things better?
Kieran's punishment felt wrong, but challenging it now would only make things worse. Still, he couldn't shake off the unease twisting in his chest.
He rubbed his temples and leaned back against the desk, his thoughts a blur.
And that was when the voice spoke again.
'So now that that's done, can we talk business?'
Ashen froze his lips twitching.
That voice—sarcastic, casual, the verbal equivalent of a smirk—slipped into his mind as smoothly as a knife sliding between ribs.
He had completely forgotten about the guy.
Ashen closed his eyes and exhaled, trying to steady himself. He didn't want to look insane talking to himself in front of the others, so he stayed still, keeping the conversation internal.
'You sure know how to pick your timing,' he thought, dryly.
'Well, excuse me for not waiting for your pity party to end,' Nexis replied. His tone was mocking but oddly amused. 'You humans really know how to mope. I almost fell asleep watching your dramatic slow walk through the hallways.'
Ashen's eyelid twitched. 'You were watching that?'
'Of course I was. I'm stuck in your head, remember? It's either that or counting your neurons for fun.'
Ashen sighed quietly, choosing to ignore the jabs. He tried to focus instead, to organize his thoughts before diving into whatever this… thing was.
After a moment, he drew a deep mental breath. 'All right. First question.'
'Finally. Took you long enough.'
Ashen ignored the tone. 'Why don't you want people to find out about you? Because that kind of secrecy only screams one thing—you're plotting something.'
There was a beat of silence. Then—
'Oh, you're absolutely right,' Nexis said cheerfully. 'I am plotting something.'
Ashen's mind went blank for half a second. '…What?'
'Relax,' Nexis chuckled, the sound echoing like static through Ashen's thoughts. 'Not against your people. You should've seen your face just now—if I had eyes, I'd frame that look.'
Ashen resisted the urge to groan aloud. He pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering under his breath. Lira gave him a quick glance, probably thinking he was just tired.
'So you're hiding from someone then,' Ashen pressed, ignoring the taunt. 'That's the only thing that makes sense.'
'Hiding?' Nexis repeated, sounding amused. 'Now that's such a small-minded way to see it. I prefer the term… laying low.'
'That's literally the definition of hiding.' Ashen replied blankly.
'Semantics, host-boy. Besides, I'm figuring out some… things. Complicated cosmic-level stuff you wouldn't really understand without a few more zeroes added to your IQ.'
Ashen rolled his eyes mentally. 'Right. Of course. A genius in exile hiding from invisible enemies.'
'Hey, don't make me sound lame. I'm a very important figure, thank you very much.'
Ashen sighed inwardly.
How shameless could this guy get?
Still, there was something about Nexis's tone—playful but calculated—that made him wonder just how much of this "laying low" story was true.
'Fine,' Ashen said finally. 'You don't want to be found. I can live with that. But you're in my head now, which means whatever you're doing, it involves me. So let's get to the point—what exactly do you want my help in?'