I stared directly into Roman's eyes, realizing the cold reality of our positions. Forcing him to hand over Evelyn for free was an absurd expectation...it would be like handing a high-tier Death Chant artifact to a small child without demanding anything in return.
Roman was an elite authority figure with direct ties to the King and Queen. I was merely a Branch Commander and a school principal. He stood at the very pinnacle of power, while I was stuck somewhere in the middle. The logical choice was to concede, to bow my head and back down.
Yet, as the silence stretched between us, a stubborn fire flared in my chest.
Why should I give up?
Is there a rule in this vast, cruel world that says someone like me is destined to crawl in the dirt forever? If the heavens wanted me to submit, they wouldn't have given me this stubborn breath in my lungs. They wouldn't have let an ordinary girl survive against the schemes of ruthless experts and the tides of war.
Giving up is like a fish jumping out of the water onto the dry sand, willingly waiting for the sun to bake it alive. The water might be turbulent, and the predators might be fierce, but as long as I am still swimming, there is a chance I can find a deep pool to survive in. If I lie down now, I am just letting the giants trample over my corpse without even forcing them to lift their feet.
Elicia, oh Elicia, look at yourself. You have no grand aptitude, no astronomical wealth, and no deep, cynical wisdom like those scheming monsters in high command. Every path ahead of you is blocked by mountains of swords and seas of fire. But haven't you always walked through the fire anyway? If Divine Regeneration has brought me this far, it means destiny itself hasn't given up on me yet! So how can I give up on myself?
The wind outside howls like a mocking demon, and the sheer political pressure of the high rankings weighs down like the collapse of the sky. My bones creak and my heart aches, but my legs refuse to kneel.
Let them plot. Let them treat me like a stepping stone. A weed doesn't stop growing just because a storm is coming; it clings to the soil with everything it has. Even if I am just a piece on someone else's giant chessboard, I will be the sharpest, most annoying splinter that pierces their fingers when they try to move me!
If I raise my hands in surrender today, will the world show mercy? No! In Andromeda, the weak are food for the strong. If I stop running, the wolves will tear me apart in an instant. I may be foolish, I may be simple, but I know one thing...as long as I am still breathing, the game isn't over yet!
I lifted the cup, took the final sip of my tea, and set it down gently onto the saucer. A calm, unshakeable smile touched my lips.
"Thank you for your time and service, Chief Roman," I said softly, rising from the leather chair and smoothing down my uniform.
Roman watched me carefully, his stern face softening just a fraction. "Stay safe out there, Elicia."
I bowed my head to him and White Flower, turned on my heel, and walked out of the office into the cool, silent hallway of the CKBA. I hadn't secured Evelyn yet, but I wasn't out of options.
Stepping out into the bright afternoon sun, I blinked in surprise at the sight of seventeen Luminous Knights standing in strict formation right outside the entrance.
"Oh, Commander Elicia! We're finally here," one of them called out, giving a crisp salute.
A wave of realization washed over me. Ah, Chief Anton actually called them here using the communication stones.
Looking over their ranks, a quiet wave of sadness hit my chest. Last year, Branch 1 boasted over thirty seasoned knights. But ever since the northern border tragedy...where our entire division was nearly slaughtered down to zero...we had to rebuild from the ground up. This year, fresh recruits helped bring our numbers back up to twenty-one. Four were currently away on long-term operations, while Eirene was technically still on the division roster. But knowing my little sister, she would flatly refuse to step into a military lineup right now.
"Greetings, soldiers," I said, offering them a warm, encouraging smile. "Follow me to the open-air moot."
We walked over to the district's central moot...a broad open field filled with wooden tables, tactical mapping tents, and supply crates. Since it was high noon, several off-duty knights from other branches were hanging out, grabbing lunch, and resting between combat drills. We claimed a quiet cluster of wooden benches near the center.
Being tall, I easily leaned back against the edge of a sturdy wooden table, crossing my ankles with a relaxed posture as the seventeen knights gathered around.
"Greetings, everyone," I began, my tone gentle yet clear. "Do any of you have a clue as to why Chief Anton summoned you here today?"
One young recruit stood up straight, scratching his helm nervously. "Well... is it because Chief Anton sent an emergency ping through our communication stones?"
A battle-scarred veteran beside him burst out laughing, clapping the rookie hard on the shoulder. "It's obvious, you dummy! It's an operational briefing! Don't tell me you have amnesia? Remember when we were ambushed at the Branch 2 border? The only reason you're still breathing right now is because Lady Elicia personally purified that monster bite on your arm! Ah, Commander, please forgive his silly question."
The rookie flushed red, sounding more like an overthinking philosopher than a soldier. In front of a ruthless commander, an absurd answer like that might have drawn a severe reprimand, but I simply smiled. Patience and optimism were my greatest strengths, and my soldiers knew me as the most approachable commander in the entire Bureau.
"Well, all jokes aside," I said, leaning forward slightly. "What do you all know about the current state of the outbreak?"
The knights exchanged brief, solemn glances, their lighthearted mood instantly disappearing as whispers rippled through the group.
"We received fresh intelligence from the Branch 3 evacuation units," one of the senior swordsmen reported, stepping forward. "While they were clearing civilians out of Town Carcaka, a swarm of high-tier winged Nightwalkers rained down on their defense line. Fortunately, the unit held the perimeter and successfully evacuated the townspeople. But Town Carcaka is only a hundred miles from Caria's outer gates... the corruption is closing in fast."
Town Carcaka was a vital industrial hub, lying barely a hundred miles from Caria's primary perimeter. If the swarms of winged Nightwalkers managed to breach those outer walls, a total apocalyptic outbreak inside the capital would become an absolute certainty.
Yet, there was still a strategic opening. Carcaka directly bordered Town Barona, placing the infected directly within reach of the Lament of Autumn Crater. If we could construct proper containment lines and drive the infected forward, trapping them inside that massive natural basin was entirely feasible.
I looked over my seventeen division members, tapping my staff lightly against the stone.
"Which ones of you possess Earth Manipulation magic?" I asked.
Out of the seventeen knights present, only six raised their hands...a dangerously low number for the heavy terraforming required to construct sealing walls.
"And how many of you have the Mana Regeneration human skill?" I continued.
The remaining ten knights...all dedicated field healers...raised their hands instantly.
"Good... very good," I murmured softly, letting out a small breath of relief. Even though we only had six earth manipulators, having ten fully capable mana regenerators meant we could keep our defense barriers constantly supplied with fresh energy. Despite being flatly rejected by Roman Calico over at Branch 3, I still refused to abandon this strategy.
The soldiers exchanged baffled glances, their brows furrowing in confusion.
"Umm... Commander Elicia?" one of the earth manipulators spoke up nervously. "Why are you taking a census of our exact skills right now?"
"Ah! I completely forgot to explain," I laughed softly, rubbing the back of my neck before setting my wooden staff upright.
I laid out the entire operational blueprint right then and there: luring the thralls into the Barona and Lulu craters, using our six earth manipulators to raise massive rock ramparts, maintaining supply lines with hunted wild monster meat, and using my Divine Regeneration alongside our ten healers to clean the neural corruption from every single infected soul.
By the time I finished presenting the strategy, the high noon sun was beginning its low descent, painting the sky in dark streaks of violet and bruised orange. The evening breeze shifted, carrying the putrid, distant stench of decayed flesh from the outer quarantine wards...a bitter, suffocating reminder of the crisis gripping our lands.
Sitting on the edge of the wooden table, I looked down at the seventeen Luminous Knights staring back at me with hollow, terrified eyes.
These were men and women who had lost brothers, daughters, and long-time comrades to the corruption. They had watched fellow knights succumb to the virus on the battlefield just to survive their fatal wounds, only to turn into gray, lifeless husks of their former selves.
"Lady Elicia..." a battle-weary veteran officer from the back called out, his voice heavy with deep exhaustion. "You're wasting precious resources... Shouldn't we just cull them all like Branch 2 proposed?"
"Yeah, that would actually work," another soldier chimed in, leaning heavily against his spear as he stared at the dirt. "Wasting your mana, time, and military reserves on mindless monsters isn't efficient."
A wave of low, cold murmurs rippled through the ranks like ice water.
My hand froze against the smooth wood of my staff as I stared into the tired, cynical eyes of my men.
It was the exact same mindset Eirene possessed back at the main Bureau building...kill every infected individual instead of curing them. The muddy soil beneath our boots could not wash away the lingering stench of blood, nor could it hide the chilling truth that suddenly pierced straight through my chest.
I looked at them...these Luminous Knights who had learned to fight, scheme, and cut down enemies without a shred of hesitation. For so long, I had naively assumed that people were simply born a certain way. I thought the world was neatly divided into the kind-hearted and the innately evil.
But as I connected the dots, looking closely at the dark circles around their hollow eyes, a suffocating realization gripped my heart.
They were not born this way.
How can a fresh seed grow into a twisted, thorny vine unless the soil itself is poisoned? How can a pristine, clear spring turn into a murky, foul swamp unless a mountain of filth is dumped into it year after year?
They were cynical. They were ruthlessly pragmatic. They weighed every human life, every bond of friendship, and every drop of affection on a cold, unfeeling scale of material benefits. To them, kindness was a mental illness, and trust was a weapon handed directly to an enemy.
But was it truly their fault?
If a child is burned by fire every single time they reach out for warmth, will they not eventually learn to fear the light? If a person is stabbed in the back every time they turn around, will they not grow eyes on the back of their head and carry a blade hidden in their hand?
This world is a giant, merciless grindstone. It takes the soft, gentle clay of human innocence and relentlessly shapes it, crushing it under the weight of betrayal, loss, and agonizing trauma until all that remains is a hardened, sharp shard of glass. They became monsters only because the world showed them that fools who remained human did not survive the night.
Their cynicism was real, yes. But their cruelty was nothing more than a scarred suit of armor, built layer by layer over a shattered soul that had once cried out for help in the dark, only to receive complete silence.
If Andromeda itself is a sea of endless bitterness, how can we blame the swimmers for swallowing the salty water just to stay afloat?
The silence stretched long across the moot, heavy and suffocating, until I slowly lowered my hands and let out a soft, long sigh.
"Look at them, my brothers and sisters," I began, my voice carrying softly yet clearly across the quiet gathering. "Are those trapped infected truly a waste of resources, or are they merely mirrors of our own desperation?"
I stepped forward, looking each soldier in the eye. "When a man is drowning in a stormy sea, can we blame him for reaching out to grab a floating piece of rotted wood? Even if that wood is poisoned, the instinct to survive is a flame that cannot be easily snuffed out."
The soldiers shifted uncomfortably, the heavy guilt in their eyes reflecting the harsh, dying light of the setting sun. They knew this tragedy all too well. The virus granted physical movement, but it stole the mind, turning a warm human being into a prisoner inside their own raging body.
"In this grand, unforgiving world, we struggle against heaven, earth, and our own fragile fates," I continued, extending my open hands toward them. "Is it a sin to want to live? If the heavens dictate that our flesh must rot, must we truly accept it without a fight?"
I clutched my chest, feeling the steady, surging warmth of my own heart.
"The world tells us that death is absolute...that once a heart turns to ice, it can never beat with warmth again. But I look at this vast sky, and I must ask you a simple question: If winter has the power to freeze the mightiest rivers, does spring not possess the absolute right to melt them?"
A low murmur rose from the ranks, a fragile spark of hope finally piercing through the heavy gloom. They looked up at me...not just as their Commander, but as someone who refused to let the darkness rewrite her soul.
"Today, we do not raise our blades to sever their necks; we raise our hearts to call them back!" I declared fiercely.
I raised my staff, channeling a glowing flare of my divine magic high into the air. Golden light burst overhead, cutting through the twilight like a brilliant sunbeam.
"Let this light be the fire that burns away the dead wood, allowing the green sprouts of life to bloom once more!" I shouted, my voice echoing across the training grounds. "If fate gave them a tragic end, then today, let us be the ones to rewrite the beginning!"
As the golden light faded into shimmering dust, a senior swordsman suddenly stood straight up, his eyes shining with newfound resolve.
"You're right, Commander! Those people in the camps... they're our family! They still have their consciousness trapped inside! Let's fight for them!"
"I accept the mission!" one of the ten healers shouted, stepping forward with his hand over his heart. "I know there are families waiting in the refugee tents right now, praying to see their loved ones come home!"
"Indeed!" an earth manipulator yelled, drawing his sidearm blade and saluting. "My wife was left behind in Lulu City when the walls fell! If there is even a single fraction of a chance to bring her back, I will fight for your plan by any means necessary!"
"To the Commander!" another screamed.
Within seconds, the doubt that had hung over the moot completely shattered, replaced by a roaring cheer that echoed across the stone walls.
They were celebrating.