The journey back to Core was a solemn march through a battlefield that had become a graveyard. The once proud soldiers of my unit were now mere shadows of their former selves, their armor battered, their spirits even more so. The mission had been a disaster, and the weight of that failure hung heavy on my shoulders. Every step was a reminder of the lives lost, the mistakes made, and the consequences that would soon follow.

As we entered the cold sterile halls of Core, the familiar hum of machinery greeted us, but there was no comfort in it today. The metallic scent of the air, usually a symbol of precision and control, felt suffocating now, like a noose tightening around my neck. I could sense the unease in my men, the silent questions they were too disciplined to voice. They didn’t need to. I felt every one of them echoing in my own mind.

But there was no time to dwell on what had gone wrong. Not yet. The Executive Council would want answers, and they would want them now.

As I rounded the corner, I saw the Councilor Dax standing rigid and stern, as if he had been waiting for this very moment. His eyes narrowed slightly, his face a mask of disapproval. The weight of his unspoken judgment pressed down on me, but I forced myself to keep moving, my steps steady despite the tension coiling in my gut.

“Commander Andras, report to the debriefing chamber immediately.” The voice crackled through the comms, the order as cold and impersonal as the steel walls around us. I gave a brief nod to my second-in-command, Lieutenant Harkin, who acknowledged with a grim look. The rest of the team, what was left of it, moved silently towards the medical bay, where they would receive the urgent care they desperately needed, their bodies and minds both battered by the battle.

I walked in silence through the corridors, trailing just behind Councilor Dax. Each of my steps echoed, joining the sharp click of his heels as we moved closer to the inevitable confrontation. The air between us felt heavy with tension, an oppressive quiet that seemed ready to explode at any moment. My mind raced through the events of the battle, analyzing, dissecting, searching for the precise moment when everything had gone to hell. It wasn’t enough to know we had failed. I needed to understand why.

The doors to the debriefing chamber slid open with a hiss as Dax entered first, striding to the head of the table and taking his seat. I followed him inside, my posture rigid, my face an unreadable mask. The room was as cold and calculated as ever, but today, it felt like a crucible. My eyes locked on Dax’s angular features, sharp and unforgiving, much like the consequences I was about to face.

“Commander Andras,” he began, his voice slicing through the tension like a blade. “You were tasked with securing the artifact. You were given the best soldiers, the finest equipment. And yet, you return empty-handed, with losses that are… unacceptable.”

I met his gaze, my voice steady and controlled, betraying none of the turmoil beneath. “The mission was compromised, sir. The Arcanists’ defenses were stronger than anticipated. Maelor was there, as we expected, but the artifact—”

“Don’t give me excuses, Commander,” he interrupted, his tone icy. “I’m not interested in what went wrong. I want to know why it went wrong.”

I took a measured breath, choosing my words carefully. “We were outmaneuvered. The Arcanists anticipated our approach. They used the terrain to their advantage, drawing us into a confrontation before we could secure the objective. Maelor’s command of the elements was more formidable than we anticipated. And the artifact—”

“Was activated,” the Councilman finished for me, his eyes narrowing behind his silver spectacles. “And now it’s lost to us, along with any hope of using it to turn the tide in our favor.”

I nodded, accepting the truth of his words, even as they stung like a physical blow. “Yes, sir.”

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For a moment, the room was silent, the weight of failure hanging between us. The Councilman’s gaze was piercing, dissecting every word, every expression, as if searching for something beneath the surface.

“What aren’t you telling me, Andras? There’s more to this than a simple tactical failure. You’re not the type to be caught off guard. So tell me. What really happened out there?”

I hesitated, the questions that had plagued me on the journey back now coming to the forefront. Had we been set up to fail? Was this mission designed to trigger a larger conflict, to push us into a war that the higher-ups had already decided was inevitable? The thought gnawed at me, but voicing it here, in this chamber, under the scrutiny of the Councilman, was a risk I wasn’t yet ready to take.

“Sir,” I began, choosing my words with care, “there were elements of the mission that were… unexpected. The Arcanists were not just defending the artifact, they seemed to know exactly when and where we would strike. It’s possible that our intel was compromised.”

The Councilman’s eyes narrowed, but his expression remained impassive. “Compromised? Are you suggesting a leak, Commander? Or is this just another excuse for your failure?”

“No excuses, sir. But I believe there may be forces at play that we are not yet aware of. This conflict… it feels orchestrated, as if both sides were being manipulated.”

For a moment, there was no response. The Councilman’s gaze remained fixed on me, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled in front of him.

“Interesting theory, Commander,” he said at last, his tone thoughtful. “But theories don’t win wars. Results do. And right now, the only result I see is failure.”

The words stung, but I didn’t flinch. “Understood, sir. But if there is a larger game at play, we need to be aware of it. We can’t afford to be pawns in someone else’s strategy.”

The Councilman’s lips curled into a thin, humorless smile. “Pawns, Commander? Do you fancy yourself a knight, perhaps? Or a king?” His gaze bore into mine, as if daring me to speak out of turn.

I held his stare, refusing to be cowed. “I am a soldier, sir. My loyalty is to the Core, but my duty is to see the truth, even if it’s inconvenient. If we are being manipulated—”

“That’s enough, Commander,” he snapped, his tone sharp enough to cut. “You’ve given me your report. Now, you will return to your duties and prepare for what’s to come. This war is far from over, and we cannot afford hesitation.”

“Yes, sir.”

I saluted sharply, then turned on my heel and left the room, the cold eyes of the Councilman following me out.

As I walked back through the corridors of Core, the questions gnawed at me, relentless and unyielding. Had we been sent into that mission to fail? Had the Council known more than they were letting on? The possibility was unsettling, but it was one I couldn’t ignore.

Back in the Restoration Chamber, my team was waiting, their faces drawn with fatigue and the weight of the battle we had just endured. The chamber, a sleek and sterile facility equipped with the most advanced medical and rejuvenation technology Core had to offer, hummed with quiet efficiency. Panels embedded in the walls monitored their vitals, while automated systems tended to their wounds. Harken looked up as I entered, his expression a mix of concern and unspoken questions.

“What now, Commander?” he asked quietly.

I met his gaze, my own resolve hardening. “We prepare, Harken. The battle may be over, but the war is just beginning. We need to be ready for whatever comes next.”

The room fell silent, the weight of my words sinking in. We had survived, but barely. And the stakes were higher than ever. I didn’t trust the Council. There were too many unanswered questions, too many loose threads. But for now, my focus had to be on my team, on keeping them alive in a war that was growing more complex by the day.

Yet the ache of our losses gnawed at me. Marcus and Lyra were gone, cut down in the chaos, their lives violently ripped away in a matter of moments. They weren’t the only ones. Others had fallen too, soldiers whose names would be carved into the walls of Core, but the weight of their absence was immediate and raw. Their deaths weren’t just numbers in the ever growing tally of the fallen; they were wounds that bled deep into the morale of my team. And though we carried on, the scars of those losses would never truly heal.

As I left the restoration chamber, the cold halls of Core felt more oppressive than ever. The doubts that had begun as a whisper were now a roar, demanding answers, demanding action. But those answers would have to wait. For now, there was only the mission, the next battle, the next step in a war that seemed to have no end in sight.

And as I walked through the labyrinth of steel and glass, I couldn’t shake the feeling that we were all just pieces in a game that was far more dangerous than any of us had realized. A game where the stakes were nothing less than the fate of everything we fought to protect.

This wasn’t over. But for the first time, I wasn’t sure if I had any control over what would happen next or if I ever did.