As Ajani's presence faded into the jungle, the Imperators began picking themselves up, the weight of the battle settling in. Sahaad ran a hand over his armor, his heart still pounding from the encounter. The jagged gash that had run down his side just moments before was now sealed, smooth skin visible under the cracks in his suit.

Zara, brushing off debris from her chestplate, glanced at her arm. What had once been a deep, searing wound from one of Ajani's strikes was now fully healed. The flesh had knitted itself back together, not even a scar left behind. She flexed her fingers, testing the strength, her eyes wide in disbelief.

"This... is insane," she muttered, staring at her regenerated arm.

Ji, standing nearby, checked the side of his abdomen where he had taken a glancing hit earlier. His fingers prodded the spot where a cracked rib should have been, only to find it as solid as ever. His mouth dropped open. "I don't even feel any pain... we healed everything."

Nate inspected his head where he had been hit, but no wounds were there, just the smooth touch of his skin. Even Sia was mesmerized by her healing capabilities, not a single wound remained, just congealed patches of blood.

Sahaad stood in stunned silence for a moment, then looked at the others. "I guess this is the first time we've really seen it in action."

Their enhanced durability had usually prevented them from being injured at all. The augmentations, training, and their sheer physical power made injuries rare. But Ajani's strikes had been different. And now, witnessing their regenerative capabilities for the first time, it was both awe-inspiring and terrifying.

Sahaad's gaze shifted from his team to the Red Tails, the group of Praetorians who had fought alongside them. As they approached the fallen soldiers, a grim realization settled in. There was no movement—no sign of life. One by one, they examined the bodies, only to find them shattered.

Kato knelt beside one of the fallen Praetorians, his fingers brushing the cracks in the man's chestplate. "Their organs... they're completely liquefied." His voice was low, filled with a somber tone.

Sahaad looked closer, noticing the blood pooling inside the armor, the horrific damage caused by Ajani's strikes. Their bodies hadn't stood a chance against that level of force.

Nate's expression darkened. "They didn't heal like we did."

Sahaad clenched his fists, his gaze hardening. The Praetorians, as tough as they were, hadn't been able to survive what the Imperators had endured. It drove home just how different they were from ordinary soldiers—even from the elite Praetorians.

"They couldn't regenerate their organs," Sahaad said quietly. "They weren't augmented like us. Ajani's power... it was too much."

The grim atmosphere hung over them like a storm as they turned their attention toward the village ahead. Smoke drifted from broken structures, the aftermath of their intense battle with the Awakened. The villagers, once buzzing with life, were now scattered—some dead, some fleeing into the thick jungle.

Parts of the village had been leveled by the force of the combat, entire huts reduced to rubble, and the ground scorched in places from plasma blasts and energy rounds.

Sahaad scanned the destruction, his jaw tight. "We did a lot of damage, but the rebels are still out there. And Ajani... he'll be back."

Zara nodded, her voice grim. "We should secure what's left, regroup, and figure out our next steps. We can't leave things like this."

Sahaad strode through the wreckage of the village, his senses heightened as he scanned the area for any remaining threats. The jungle seemed eerily still, save for the distant rustling of leaves and the low crackling of dying fires from the earlier combat. As he approached one of the half-collapsed huts, he heard something—whispers, frantic breathing.

He motioned for the others to follow, their footfalls silent as they approached. When Sahaad pulled back the remains of a fallen door, his eyes fell on a group of survivors—women, children, and elderly villagers, huddled together in terror. Their wide, fearful eyes locked onto him, trembling under the weight of what was about to happen.

A soldier, standing off to the side, had his rifle trained on them, his hands shaking. He was clearly conflicted, his body tense, the fear of disobeying orders warring with the natural instinct to protect the helpless. His fingers hovered near the trigger, but the hesitation was obvious.

Sahaad's jaw tightened as he looked over the group of civilians, knowing full well the Federation's standing orders: No survivors. The rebels had hidden themselves within the populace, using the civilians as cover, and the higher-ups had made it abundantly clear what needed to be done. No room for resistance, no room for doubt.

"Sir, they're just… civilians," the soldier whispered, his voice trembling. "They're not fighters."

The Imperator's eyes darkened, and he stepped forward, his voice cold and commanding. "The orders were clear." His gaze locked with the soldier's, sharp and unyielding. "I am sorry, but no survivors."

The Imperators flanked him, their hands already on their weapons. There was no hesitation in their stances, no faltering in their focus. They understood the directive just as Sahaad did. In the grand calculus of the Federation's war machine, the distinction between rebel and civilian was irrelevant. They were all part of the rebellion now.

Sahaad's voice cut through the air. "Fire."

The words hung for a moment, the weight of them heavy. Then, with terrifying efficiency, the Imperators raised their rifles, and the world exploded into gunfire.

Screams tore through the village as bullets and plasma rounds ripped through the air. The civilians tried to flee, scrambling over each other in a desperate attempt to escape the inevitable. Some clutched at the wounded, some held their children close, but it made no difference. Buildings were completely decimated by the superheated rounds. The Imperators moved with a cold, calculated precision, their augmented senses guiding each shot with deadly accuracy.

The soldier who had hesitated, still standing by, seemed frozen in place, his eyes wide with horror as the massacre unfolded. Blood stained the ground, cries of anguish and terror echoing through the village. The Imperators showed no mercy, no pause in their actions.

One by one, the survivors fell, the last remnants of resistance snuffed out in a matter of moments. When the firing stopped, the only sound left was the crackling of the dying flames and the quiet sobs of the few remaining civilians, too injured or terrified to move.

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Sahaad lowered his rifle, his face unreadable. He didn't feel remorse—he couldn't afford to. In the eyes of the Federation, this was simply a necessary step in quelling the rebellion. And yet, there was something unsettling in the silence that followed, as if the jungle itself mourned the lives taken.

Zara stepped forward, her rifle still at the ready, scanning the surroundings. "It's done," she said quietly, her voice devoid of emotion. Ji nodded in silent agreement, though his eyes lingered on the bodies scattered across the village.

Sahaad looked at his team, then back at the carnage they had wrought. "Move out," he ordered, his voice steady, betraying none of the unease stirring within him.

The group split to look for more survivors and deal with them.

Sahaad moved with heavy steps through the remnants of the village, his boots crunching softly against the debris and shattered remains of what was once a quiet home. Smoke hung in the air, mixing with the humid jungle scent, as the last embers of resistance flickered out. His visor scanned the surroundings as he approached another building, the structure barely standing after the earlier bombardment.

He pushed the door open, the faint creak barely audible over the distant crackling of burning wood. Inside, in the dim light, he saw them—a mother clutching her young daughter, both wide-eyed with terror. The mother's arms wrapped tightly around the girl, as if her sheer will could shield them from the horrors that had just unfolded outside. They didn't scream, they didn't beg. They just stared at Sahaad, the fear in their eyes cutting through the stifling silence.

Sahaad stood there, pistol in hand, watching the scene unfold like some distant observer. His finger hovered over the trigger. The seconds stretched out, each heartbeat loud in his ears, but his face remained expressionless. His body felt like it was on autopilot, driven by years of training and the mission ingrained in him from childhood.

But there was something else—a weight pressing on his mind. A hesitation.

He stared at the mother and daughter, still motionless before him, and a thought wormed its way into his head: Why am I hesitating?

The orders were clear. No survivors. He had done this countless times before, with rebels, with targets—why did this feel different? His breath slowed, his mind suddenly swirling with questions he hadn't allowed himself to ask in so long.

His finger twitched on the trigger.

Was this what they wanted me to become?

He aimed the gun at the mother first. There was no fear in his movements, no shaking in his hands. He could see her body tense, see her instinctively pull her daughter even closer, as if to shield her from the inevitable.

Without another thought, he squeezed the trigger. Two quick shots at the speed of light. The silence in the room was broken by the faint sound of bodies hitting the floor.

Sahaad looked at the lifeless figures, the mother still holding the girl in her arms even in death. The sorrow was gone now, replaced by the cold, clinical feeling that had guided him through every mission before. He stepped back, eyes scanning the room, but there was no movement, no signs of life.

He stood there for a moment longer, gazing at the scene, not at the tragedy of it but at the overwhelming numbness in his own heart. His mind wandered back to the countless hours of indoctrination, the sessions designed to strip away any semblance of empathy, the methods that had hardened him into the soldier he was now. He wondered, for just a moment, how much of himself had been lost in the process—how much of his humanity had been washed away in the relentless tide of psycho-indoctrination.

I should feel something. He thought. I should feel remorse, guilt, regret. Anything. But there was nothing. Just the cold silence in his mind.

Sahaad stepped out of the broken-down house, the two bodies still fresh in his mind. His boots scraped against the dirt as he made his way through the wreckage of the village, past the smoking ruins and lifeless figures scattered across the ground. He paused near a fallen tree and slowly sat down, his armored frame sinking slightly into the dirt. For a moment, he stared at nothing in particular, his mind clouded with thoughts he hadn't allowed himself to dwell on in years.

The quiet was broken by the soft approach of footsteps. Sahaad didn't turn to look, but he already knew who it was. Zara's familiar presence settled next to him as she crouched down, her hand resting on her knee, her face partially obscured by the shadow of her helmet.

"You okay?" she asked, her voice steady but tinged with concern.

Sahaad didn't answer immediately. He was still staring out into the distance, his thoughts distant, heavy. Finally, he nodded, the motion slow and unconvincing. "Yeah," he said, his voice soft and almost mechanical.

Zara frowned, her sharp eyes studying him. She wasn't easily fooled, especially when it came to Sahaad. There was a sadness there, deep in his gaze, something she wasn't used to seeing from him. For a long time, Sahaad had been the pragmatic one, the logical mind of their unit, but something had changed.

She broke the silence again, her tone more serious. "We finished the sweep. Everyone's dead."

Sahaad's chest tightened at her words. He should've felt satisfaction, perhaps even pride in the team's flawless execution of their mission. But instead, he felt an odd sense of sorrow, a heaviness in his chest that refused to lift.

The brutal efficiency of the Imperators had turned them into something almost inhuman—cold, calculating, unstoppable. In that moment, Sahaad found himself mourning something far deeper than the loss of life in the village. He mourned the loss of who they had once been, who he had once been.

Zara must have seen the flicker of emotion in his eyes, because she softened her voice. "You sure you're okay? You don't seem like yourself."

He let out a breath, his shoulders slumping slightly. "I'm fine, Zara. Really."

But she didn't move, didn't leave. She sat next to him, her presence a silent comfort, though the tension between them lingered.

Sahaad stared at the dirt beneath his feet, his mind drifting to a time long before this, before the Imperator program, before the trials, before the endless killing. He remembered his old life—a simple, peaceful existence. He had been a civil engineer back then, designing roads and infrastructure, working to bring comfort and efficiency to people's lives. It seemed like a lifetime ago now, as if that man had never existed.

He used to take pride in his work, knowing that each road he designed, each project he completed, helped people. It made their lives easier, more comfortable. He had been a builder back then, a creator. Now, he was the opposite—a destroyer, a soldier engineered to kill and leave nothing behind.

He closed his eyes for a moment, the weight of his transformation pressing down on him. How did I end up here? he wondered. How did I go from building roads to tearing down lives?

Zara's voice pulled him out of his thoughts. "You still remember the memories? Before all of this?"

Sahaad hesitated, then gave a slow nod. "Yeah… sometimes I do. It was simpler, back then"

Zara nodded, understanding. "Lately, its been getting hazy. I can barely remember my mother's face anymore, just a figure that took care of me when I was a child. All I have to remember is this", she pointed to the necklace that rested on her chestplate.

Sahaad's gaze drifted to the horizon, where the jungle met the sky, the red hue of the setting sun casting long shadows over the ruins of the village. "Sometimes I wonder how much of me is left," he said quietly. "After all the indoctrination, the surgeries, the fighting… am I still the same person? Or did I die somewhere along the way?"

Zara didn't have an answer, and neither did he.

"You told me once, almost a century before. You said you had a sister right?"Zara asked.

Saahad paused for a second to think. This body did have a sister who was sold off by their father, Saahad had planned to look for her and give the boy's soul some closure before he eventually returned to his time.

"Yea, but she is probably long dead now. It has been over a century".

"Perhaps or maybe she is still alive. She could have taken the rejuvenation treatment or even Awakened. I have heard that Awakened can live for a millenia".

"Maybe…but it's not like I can anymore. My body is dedicated to the Empire"

"Federation, its Federation remember", Zara corrected, a faint smile forming around her face. "Who knows life has a way of always surprising you".

For a moment, they sat in silence, the only sound the distant crackling of fires from the village. Sahaad cracked a faint smile at Zara's optimism.

He stood up slowly, the weight of his armor suddenly feeling heavier than usual. "We should head back. There's nothing left here."

Zara nodded and stood with him, her hand resting briefly on his shoulder. "We're still here, Sahaad. Even if it doesn't feel like it sometimes."

He gave her a small, tired smile, though it didn't reach his eyes. As they turned to rejoin the squad, the weight of what he had done—and what he had become—lingered like a shadow, never too far behind.