Conspiracy

"It means you're under arrest."

Kael's world contracted.

The words hund in the air, suspended between the rhythmic pulsing of the bunker's emergency lights and the cold metallic scent of the sealed room.

"Murder. Terrorism. Conspiring against the Chosen Corps."

Kael's chest tightened. It was like the walls of reality were pressing down on him as if they were trying to grind him into nothingness. His breath turned shallow, yet controlled. It was a survival instinct. But his pulse still hammered behind his ribs, yet his mind was already moving, turning over the weight of the accusation.

It didn't make sense--no, that wasn't right. It made too much sense.

'I was the only survivor of the massacre at Hollowshard Pass. The only variable left unaccounted for,' Kae thought, looking deeper into it. 'This isn't about justice. It's about closing the case.'

He felt the shift in the room before he saw it. The tightening of hands on weapons, the slightest movement of weight, the ghost of s decision being made.

Then, the soldiers moved.

A hand snatched his wrist, the fingers like steel clamping around fis forearm. The other pushed him forward, forcing him to step past the threshold of the bunker.

The floodlights were blinding. He could hear the weight of the city beyond the cliffs, the hum of an airship somewhere in the distance, and the faint murmur of shifting armor.

'No matter how much I want to, I can't resist. Because resistance would be proof,' he thought as he turned his gaze on Arvin who slowly disappeared behind the already closing hatch.

The door sealed shut, and with it, the last shred of warmth in the bunker.

The remaining soldiers turned to Arvin. The man who spoke was young--too young it seemed, at least for a well-known Military Unit like theirs. His voice still held the thin edge of adolescence, like a boy trying to wear a war mask that didn't fit.

"You know that D-Class runt?" he asked, shifting his rifle slightly. The way his fingers hovered over the trigger told Arvin everything he needed to know.

'These bastard Lessers aren't here for interrogations,' he thought, assessing the situation, 'This isn't about Kael. It's about loose ends.'

Arvin tilted his head, measuring them closely.

'Five men. Trained, but not killers,' he thought.

Then he spoke with an even voice, "He's just a kid--Kael.'

The leader scoffed, then shifted his stance and replied.

"Yeah. And now he's dead."

To their surprise, the soldier's words had effect. Arvin simply sighed, slow, almost disappointed.

"Not yet."

Then... he moved.

The first soldier barely registered what was happening before he was already dying. Arvin's footwork was precise, a step inside the man's guard, a smooth pivot that carried his weight like an executioner's blade. His elbow drove into the soldier's throat, and the cartilage collapsed inward with a sickening crunch. The man gurgled on blood, his hands flying up too late. He was already falling.

The second soldier reacted fast. A quick motion that seemed to blur. Arvin had underestimated him when he was sizing them up earlier. He flinched as a blade flashed--a standard issue combat knife aimed straight for his ribs. Then, in the nick of time, he twisted, sidestepping just enough for the blade to slice his coat instead of his flesh.

Arvin's counter was brutal.

A knee drove into the soldier's abdomen, bending him forward just enough for Arvin to slam the base of his palm under the man's chin. The soldier's head snapped back, and his grip on the knife loosened. With insane speed, Arvin caught the falling blade, buried it in his throat, and watched as the soldier's blood sprayed the floor. Every last drop.

Finally, he turn to third and fourth.

But they hesitated. 

"Big mistakes."

The moment the words left his lips, Arvin had closed the distance before any one of the two could recover. He grabbed the third by his collar and spun, using the soldier as a shield against the fourth's rifle. Then a shot fired, the bullet tearing into his teammate's back.

Arvin let go.

The dying soldier slumped to the ground, choking on his own ruined lungs. The last soldier tried to run.

Arvin didn't let him.

A knife left his fingers, spinning in a clean, effortless arc. It buried itself into the base of the soldier's spine. There was a sharp gasp. A stumble. Then...

Silence.

For a moment, the bunker felt like a graveyard. Arvin exhaled through his nose and found steril air, mixed with the growing stench of coagulating blood.

The coppery scent clung to the air, mixing with the faint mechanical hum of the bunker's systems still running in the background, the alarm's light still flashing without sound.

After a long moment, he wiped his knuckles against the torn fabric of one of the fallen soldiers' jackets, shaking off the last remnants of blood. To him, it was a familiar feeling. A dangerous feeling.

Then—a sound.

Arvin turned before he saw him. A shadow stumbled into the dim light, and his eyes landed on a familiar face, though he didn't know the man, not really.

Rendrik stepped closer.

Bloodied, panting, and eyes wide with exhaustion and disbelief. His body was shaking—whether from injury or pure, unfiltered adrenaline, Arvin couldn't tell.

But his eyes...

His eyes weren't just seeing the bodies on the floor. They were seeing something worse. Something that didn't belong in the world he knew.

His voice came hoarse, raw.

"What the hell...?"

Arvin sighed, dragging a hand down his face.

"Of all the people who could've walked in right now."

Rendrik took another slow step forward. His body language was tense. His gaze flicked to the bodies, then back to Arvin. Then back to the bodies.

"You." His voice was quiet, and accusatory.

Arvin raised an eyebrow.

"Me."

A beat of silence stretched between them.

Then—

Rendrik's hand hovered over his belt. Arvin's expression didn't change, but his body adjusted—weight balanced on the balls of his feet. Arms loose. Ready.

He wasn't sure if Rendrik was reaching for a weapon or just bracing himself. But it didn't matter, either way. One wrong move, and Arvin was ready to end him, too.

The air was thick with something dangerous, something unspoken. Neither of them moved. Neither of them blinked.

Then—

The sound of engines roaring outside shattered the moment.

'More soldiers,' Arvin thought, 'more threats.'

Rendrik snapped his head toward the door. And Arvin sighed again, rubbing the back of his neck, knowing just how long his night was going to be. He still had to help Kael, and now he just took on another problem. One more thing to add to his list of redemption.

He pointed at the open hatch, referring to the coming threat outside.

"You planning on standing there all day, kid?"