"You're brave, aren't you?" the instructor asked, almost casually.
He was seated behind a big desk, his white hair brushed back, his uniform clean with a variety of badges on his chest that shone in the weak sunlight. He picked up a thin folder from the desk and flipped it open, scanning its contents briefly before setting it down on the surface.
"You beat three cadets so badly they had to be sent to the infirmary."
"They started it," Khael replied.
"Is that so?" The Vice Principal raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Because the witnesses say you walked into a situation that had nothing to do with you."
Khael tilted his head slightly. "Yeah? Looked like three on one to me. Didn't seem fair."
The Vice Principal leaned back in his chair, folding his arms.
"This academy has rules, cadet. Rules meant to prevent exactly this kind of behavior. Violence, no matter the justification, is unacceptable."
"Okay..."
"Your actions didn't resolve the situation; they escalated it. And now, three cadets are in the infirmary, and you're in my office on your first day."
"Isn't that a record time?"
"Sarcasm won't get you far here, Khael. This is a military academy, not a playground. If you act recklessly, you'll face the consequences, and I assure you, they will be more severe than a conversation in this office."
The Vice Principal clasped his hands together on the desk.
"Here's what's going to happen, Khael. Starting tomorrow, you'll be assigned to a veteran for one month."
"A veteran?"
"Yes. Someone your age who's already achieved something significant. Go and learn by watching him."
"Learn what, exactly? How to play nice?"
"Learn what it takes to balance strength with purpose. You'll stay with him for a month, assist in charity work"
"And what about my classes?"
The Vice Principal rested his hands on the table, his eyes narrowing slightly. "You've already proven you can handle yourself in a fight—taking down three cadets without so much as a scratch says plenty about your abilities. You're far ahead of what the first few practical exams demand. But that's not the point."
"Then what is?"
No warrior belongs on a battlefield if they can't value the lives of their comrades. Strength alone doesn't make a soldier—it's understanding the weight of responsibility. Without that, you're nothing but a weapon without a cause."
Khael leaned back. "So, what is this? A punishment?"
"Call it what you want," the Vice Principal replied curtly. "But consider this your last warning. You've just started here, and already you've crossed a line. Make the most of this time, or the next time we have this conversation, the consequences will be far more severe. "
The Vice Principal paused for a moment. "This institution doesn't hand out second chances lightly. Keep that in mind." He gestured toward the door.
"You're dismissed."
Without another word, Khael turned and walked out. The Vice Principal leaned forward from his chair, exhaling quietly. "This one's going to need watching," he muttered, returning to the papers on his desk.
The muffled hum of distant chatter echoed faintly from elsewhere in the building, but here, it was still. As Khael walked, his mind lingered on the conversation he'd just had. Being sent off to work with a veteran for a month—it wasn't exactly how he imagined his first week here would go.
A few steps later, something caught his eye—a large board mounted on the wall up ahead. It was filled with rows of names and numbers neatly printed on paper. The header in bold letters read: 'Test Results.'
"Test results? Hasn't it been like 30 minutes?"
Curiosity tugged at him. Khael walked over, scanning the board with a mixture of indifference and irritation. Names and ID numbers were listed down one side, while the results were printed in columns beside them.
He found himself searching for his ID: 012007.
There it was. The results.
Physics: 0
Math: 0
History: 0
General Knowledge: 0
His fingers were twitching as though he might tear the paper from the board.
"I wrote one answer! I know it was right."
Looking around, his gaze caught a cadet standing further down the corridor. The boy was leaning casually against the wall, skimming through a notebook. The cadet glanced up as Khael approached.
"That test earlier," Khael said abruptly. "The history question about the number of troops in Sector 14. What did you write?"
The cadet blinked. "Sixteen."
"Sixteen? No, it was seventeen."
"Nope. Sixteen. Everyone knows that. It's common knowledge. It wasn't even a hard question."
"It's seventeen. I was there."
The cadet looked Khael for a moment. Then he gave a dismissive wave and turned away. "Believe whatever you want," he said over his shoulder. "But the answer's sixteen."
Khael stayed where he was, staring after the cadet. Seventeen. He knew it was seventeen. He'd spent a whole year with them. But now, it was like that year didn't exist. First, his identity erased. Now, the history too. Places, people, everything was different. None of it made sense.
His thoughts were cut short as an instructor stopped in front of him, holding a thin file.
"???"
"This is from the Vice Principal," the instructor said flatly. "It contains the veteran's details and other instructions. You're to leave immediately."
"Right now?"
"Yes."
The instructor walked away without another word. Khael sighed, flipping open the file as he started walking. He wasn't going to read all the text—he just scanned for the important bits. The veteran's name, age– he skipped these and only read the location. It wasn't far. The meeting place was still inside the academy, on the second floor.
Closing the file, he made his way there, wondering about the veteran.
"Same age as me. Who is this veteran guy?"
Reaching the second floor, he stopped in front of the door. The room inside was spacious, with modern couches arranged in a loose circle around a sleek glass table. Large windows lined the far wall, offering a clear view of the outside. It was a quiet, polished space—nothing like what he expected for meeting a so-called veteran.
The room was empty. Khael tossed the file onto the glass table and sank into the plush couch. Leaning back, he closed his eyes. He had to admit, the couch was incredibly comfortable—so much so that he felt sleepy. He thought of getting a quick nap but brushed it off. But then, he yawned.
"Maybe, a quick nap won't –"
"Captain?"
Khael opened his eyes at the sound of the voice. Standing in front of him was a young man, no older than him, with a slightly shocked expression on his face. His eyes widened for a moment before he broke into a smile.
"Captain! You're alive!" he repeated, his voice filled with a mixture of excitement and disbelief.
Khael stared at him blankly. "Who are you?"
The boy took a step closer to the couch, his expression eager. "Captain, it's me, Cade.
"???"
"Don't you remember? You were in charge of training the troops in Sector 54. I was one of them."
"Sector 54?" Khael murmured, rubbing his chin as he tried to recall.
"Yes, Captain. Don't you remember a boy who was—"
Khael's eyes lit up with recognition. "Miguel?"
It was a face Khael recognized instantly, though he hadn't thought about it in a while. Back then, he'd been assigned to Sector 54—temporarily, of course—after their trainer fell sick. The role hadn't suited him at all. Khael had treated the whole thing like a joke, barely taking it seriously. Within days, the Chief had pulled him out and replaced him with someone more dependable.
Most of the troops avoided during his short stint. They seemed to think he was strange, unpredictable. But Cade had been the exception. For some reason, the kid stuck around like a stray dog looking for scraps of attention. At first, Khael had ignored him entirely. But over time, Cade's persistence became impossible to overlook.
That's when Khael started calling him Miguel. Why? Because it was the first name that popped into his head—besides Felix, but that one was already taken.
The boy hesitated for a moment. "Uhh... no. It's Cade. Cade Thorne."
"Miguel! It is you!"
Cade blinked, then chuckled nervously. "No, Captain. It's Cade."
Khael frowned slightly. "I don't care what your name is. I called you Miguel."
"Oh... okay." Cade smiled sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. "So, what are you doing here, Captain? Are you here to teach the cadets?"
"Huh? Why would I do that?"
"Well, I'm here because I got a call from the Vice Principal. He said I had to take in a cadet for a month and make him do some charity work—"
"It's me,"
"???" Cade blinked, clearly taken aback.
"What? Does it look like I'm joking?"
"Uhhh, no, Captain... but... did you become a cadet?"
"It's a long story." Khael leaned back, giving him a once-over. "Look at you, though. I never thought you'd be a veteran."
"Don't call me that, I barely managed to survive." He paused, his expression softening. "Captain, if you want, I can talk to the Vice Principal—"
"Nah." Khael pushed himself up from the couch, stretching briefly. "It's a good thing I've got a one-month 'break.' Let's go and do some 'charity' work."
He headed for the door, Cade hesitating only a moment before following him.
"So, what happened, Captain?" Cade asked curiously as they stepped into the hallway.
"A lot..." Khael glanced over at Cade. "It all started one night..."
Khael then started telling his story as they left together.