Hindel, the expedition leader, was dead. It had been thirty long minutes since Stella tore him apart as if he were made of paper.
The memory of his spine being ripped clean from his back, the wet crack of bone, the sound of his skull turning to mush beneath her hand, it clung to the air like smoke that refused to dissipate.
Nathan couldn't erase the image from his mind, even if he wanted to. But part of him didn't want to.
It was a reminder of how far he still had to go. Of the gulf that yawned between him and monsters like Stella and Theodore.
When the two had left—disappearing silently into the blackened forest to hunt down the remaining Fantasians—no one dared stop them.
Nathan certainly didn't. After witnessing that kind of raw, unrestrained power, trying to intervene would've been suicide.
More cadets trickled in after their departure, most of them third years. They moved with trained efficiency, their faces grim and pale as they began tending to the wounded.
Some injuries were manageable—broken bones, deep cuts, burns—but others were far worse.
Lucas lay unconscious on the ground, his body half-covered by a tattered blanket.
A metal rod still pierced through his abdomen, and his leg was twisted at an unnatural angle.
Marcus sat nearby, his right arm and leg in splints, grimacing through gritted teeth.
Alicia's uniform was soaked in blood, deep gashes slicing across her sides and shoulders, though she still refused help, muttering curses under her breath.
Patrick… Patrick hadn't been as lucky. They'd found him buried beneath the debris. He had most likely taken a brunt of the explosion, hence... he had no pulse.
His corpse was bloodied, and battered.
Nathan didnt say a word, just observed the scenery. Fifteen first-year casualties—that was his count so far.
The third years also suffered quite a bit of casualties, though no one seemed brave enough to say it out loud.
This was supposed to be a simple field test—a routine assessment. Not a massacre.
He sat on a chunk of rubble, elbows on his knees, fingers tangled in his hair.
Around him, the world felt quieter than it should have—no birds, no breeze, just the low groans of the wounded and the metallic hiss of cooling machinery.
River approached without a sound. Her suit was cracked at the shoulder, her staff resting across her lap as she sat beside him.
For a long moment, she didn't speak. Then, softly, she said, "Lucas is stable for now. They've given him pain suppressants. Marcus and Alicia too."
She hesitated, biting her lip before finishing quietly, "Patrick… didn't make it."
Nathan didn't respond. This was something he was aware of already. Afterall, he'd seen when they pulled his body from the rubble.
Hence all he did was simply stared at the ground in silence.
River exhaled and glanced toward the field. "We did what we could," she said, but even she didn't sound convinced.
Nathan's jaw tightened. 'Did we tho?' He couldn't help but question.
He looked up, and that's when he saw her. Stephanie Denoir, Natasha's older sister, one of the academy's third-year prodigies and one of the supervisors assigned to the operation.
She stood a few meters away, her azure hair gleaming under the sun, face twisted in anger as she berated Natasha.
Even from a distance, it was obvious what was happening. Natasha's fists were clenched, her shoulders trembling as Stephanie's words cut through her.
Nathan couldn't hear the argument, but he could see the moment Natasha snapped.
She spun on her heel and stormed off, fury and grief warring across her face. Stephanie just stood there, arms crossed, her expression hard but conflicted.
Nathan wanted to follow her, to try and comfort her, but his body refused to move. He was way too exhausted.
Besides, she probably needed space right now. And he needed time to organise his thoughts.
The fight with Hindel had stripped away every illusion he'd been holding onto. Seeing Stella and Theodore in action had truly brought him down to earth.
Theodore had gone toe-to-toe with Hindel alone and held his ground. Infact he more than held his ground.
Hindel, had crushed all of them combined, and yet he almost lost against Theodore.
And worse, he knew for a fact, Theodore hadn't even gone all out as he had relied solely on telekinesis.
He didn't even bother to draw his actual weapon or reveal his second ability. Just telekinesis.
And he caused this level of destruction.
Nathan clenched his fists, nails biting into his palms. The gap between them wasn't just wide, it was monstrous.
And more infuriating was that he'd always known Theodore was strong as he was one of the major antagonists Lucas had to face in the novel.
But knowing something and seeing it with your own eyes were two very different things.
Watching him overwhelm Hindel with inhuman calm, while he himself had only barely survived… was humiliating.
He lowered his head, shadows cutting across his face. He wasn't strong enough yet.
That was a truth he had now been forced to admit.
And if he couldn't even fight Theodore, then it was hopeless to even try his luck against Stella.
Stella had simply humiliated Hindel with ease. In the novel, she was incredibly strong and was the youngest general in Terra's history.
Fighting either of them now would be suicide. He knew that. But one day… one day, he hoped to close that gap.
And when he had clawed his way to that level, he'd make them pay. For Liza. For their hand in her death. He would make them pay.
A deep rumble tore through the silence dragging him from his thoughts. The ground trembled. Heads turned skyward as a massive airship broke through the clouds, its engines roaring.
The insignia emblazoned on its hull gleamed in the sunlight. It was the academy's crest.
The rescue team had arrived.
Relief rippled through the survivors, their shoulders sagging as medics and soldiers began to descend.
But Nathan didn't move. He just sat there, staring up at the approaching ship.
This wasn't over. Not even close.
For now, there would be healing, recovery, rebuilding. But beneath the exhaustion, beneath the pain, something else burned inside him, a quiet, simmering resolve.
He was going to get stronger. Much stronger than ever before. To kill those asshole siblings of his.
To survive... no, to win this god forsaken war, and to live comfortably within this place that is the Terran Federation.
For now tho, simply survival was enough for now.