Renn walked beside Ashen, his steps hesitant, his eyes still carrying the exhaustion of everything that had happened. Jaro and Lira followed close behind, silent, watching the quiet determination in Ashen's gait.
They had no idea where he was going, but just followed anyway.
The corridor ahead opened into the main training wing.
The hum of machinery and the sharp sound of robotics echoed faintly from the simulation chamber beyond.
Cadets were already gathered there for their usual morning drills.
Renn finally spoke, his voice uneasy. "Where… are we going?"
Ashen didn't answer right away.
His face was unreadable, a calm mask hiding the storm that had been building in him all night.
He'd spent hours replaying Nexis's words, the Kieran's decision, Renn's broken expression.
None of it sat right with him.
It was true Renn could be clumsy and stupid once in a while, but that didn't change how important he was to the functioning of the squad.
Even if the Academy had plans of replacing him, he didn't plan on having to rely on someone he probably hasn't ever met before.
"You'll see," Ashen said simply.
They turned the corner, stepping into the wide hall that led to the simulation chamber.
The glass walls ahead revealed the circular room within — rows of students watching the projection displays as a batch of trainees fought inside the simulated field. The low murmur of conversation and the occasional cheer filled the air.
Near the front, Instructor Kieran stood alone, his posture straight, arms folded behind his back.
His uniform was immaculate as always, his gaze steady as he watched the cadets in the simulation. No one ever stood too close to him — not because he demanded it, but because his presence had that quiet gravity that made people instinctively give him space.
Renn's stomach twisted the moment he realized where they were heading.
He slowed down, his hand brushing Ashen's arm. "Ashen, wait— what are you doing?"
Ashen didn't answer, he didn't need to. His stride said everything.
Renn grabbed his sleeve. "Please, not this. You'll only make it worse."
Ashen looked at him briefly — a calm, unwavering look that made Renn's protest die on his lips.
"Just trust me," Ashen said.
Kieran turned, his gaze landing on them the moment they were halfway there. His expression didn't change. No curiosity, no annoyance — just calm assessment.
When they finally reached him, Ashen stopped, straightening his back. Renn hovered half a step behind him, while Lira and Jaro flanked his sides.
Kieran regarded them for a long moment before speaking, his voice even as ever.
"This is unexpected. You should be with your batch preparing for your turn, Cadet Ashen."
"I know, sir," Ashen said, his tone steady, respectful. "But there's something I need to say."
Kieran tilted his head slightly. "I see. And does it concern you?"
Ashen paused. "No, sir. It concerns Cadet Renn."
The murmur among the watching students grew louder.
Some already knew the story — the rumors about Renn's dismissal from the program. Others didn't, but they could read the tension in every posture around them.
Kieran's eyes flicked briefly to Renn, then back to Ashen. "I've already made my decision regarding him."
"I know, sir," Ashen replied, meeting his gaze. "And I'm not here to question it. I'm here to prove something."
That made Kieran pause — just slightly. His eyes sharpened, a faint glimmer of interest behind them. "Prove?"
Ashen nodded. "You said Renn doesn't have what it takes to stay. That he's not fit for this path, but i will have to disagree. While you know him as a student sir, i know him as a person. I've seen what he's capable of. Maybe he's not perfect, maybe he failed this time — but that doesn't define him."
Renn's breath caught. "Ashen—" he started, but Ashen didn't stop.
"I know your standards are high, sir," Ashen continued. "And I respect that. But if strength is what determines who deserves to be here, then let me take responsibility. Let me show you what Renn can do when he's not standing alone."
The room fell silent. Even the hum of the simulators seemed to fade.
Kieran didn't speak for a moment. His face was unreadable, eyes steady on Ashen's. Then, slowly, he said, "You're asking me to reverse a formal decision. That's not a matter to be settled with words."
Ashen nodded once. "Then don't. Let me prove it. Right here."
Renn's heart dropped. "Ashen, stop! You'll get yourself—"
Ashen turned his head slightly, his voice soft. "I told you, trust me."
The watching cadets exchanged looks. Some whispered under their breath — disbelief, admiration, curiosity.
Kieran looked at Ashen for a long time, then finally exhaled through his nose, setting his datapack aside. "You're suggesting a demonstration."
"Yes, sir."
"Of what?"
"That Renn deserves to stay."
Kieran's jaw flexed subtly. "You're risking a lot for someone else's place."
Ashen didn't flinch. "Some things are worth the risk, sir."
Behind him, Lira stepped forward. "And he's not doing it alone."
All eyes turned to her.
The usual spark of mischief in her eyes was gone — replaced by quiet resolve.
"Renn's one of us," she said, voice firm. "If he's going, then so am I."
Jaro stepped up beside her, his tall frame casting a faint shadow over the group. "Same here," he said simply. "We trained together. We fall together."
Renn stared at them, speechless.
His lips trembled, and for a moment, his vision blurred. He wanted to tell them to stop, to not throw away everything for him — but the words refused to come out.
Kieran's gaze swept across them, unreadable as ever. The faint light from the overhead panels reflected off his eyes, giving them a metallic gleam.
When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet — yet it carried across the entire hall.
"Is this what unity means to you all?"
No one answered.
He looked back at Ashen, his tone measured. "You understand what you're doing, Cadet Ashen. You're not just challenging my decision. You're declaring your belief that your judgment outweighs mine."
Ashen met his gaze without hesitation. "No, sir. I'm saying I believe in something worth proving."
A long silence followed.
The kind that felt heavy, not empty.
Then, finally, Kieran exhaled slowly, his arms lowering to his sides.
"Fine," he said.
The word hung in the air — soft, yet it hit like a shockwave. Renn's heart leapt, and a murmur rippled through the crowd. Relief. Disbelief. Hope.
But before anyone could even move, Kieran added — his tone sharper, colder, deliberate:
"But on one condition."