A loud smack rang across the room, lingering in the air long after the hit had occurred.
Silence ensued.
Bane stayed still, his head slightly tilted from the power of the strike, and blood trickled down the corner of his split lip.
"Do you know why I did that?"
Najenda inquired, her voice low, but the clenched fist at her side revealed her constraint.
"Yeah," Bane said, his fingertips brushing against his wounded jaw.
He said, moving his jaw slightly, "Saw this coming."
Najenda sighed deeply and finally lowered her hand.
Her customary playful mood had long ago faded. What remained was the hardened commander, a former Imperial general turned rebel commander.
And in front of her was a former elite soldier who is now her subordinate. Who risked all for his colleagues.
That is what made it so hard.
The fact was that she did not want to punish him.
She had already read Bulat's debriefing, which had made everything much more…. difficult.
Alas, she has to harden herself and do what she ought to do.
The entire incident, beginning with Sheele's rash choice to save her friend and culminating in the ensuing ambush, had disastrous effects.
Her actions injured her soldiers and even resulted in one's death, casting doubt on her leadership abilities as a commander in the revolutionary army.
As a Revolutionary Army leader, Najenda understood that such mistakes were not only unacceptable but also detrimental to the army as a whole.
They undermined all the rebellion army stood for.
Discipline, unity, and purpose.
Even if Bulat had strongly implied that it was to protect someone.
However, intent was not the only consideration in their area of business.
"You and Sheele were under me as assassins, not soldiers," Najenda stated finally, her voice losing some of its sharpness but maintaining the steel in her tone.
"You were the Revolutionary Army's hidden weapons, and all you had to do was believe in me and obey my orders exactly. But you let emotions cloud your judgment."
"I can still understand Sheele's judgement became muddy due to….circumstances, but-"
She pointed at him, her voice full of disappointment.
"I did not expect such risky behavior from you, Leo. I brought you into this team since your accomplishments and records demonstrated that you were a dependable soldier. However, it appears they were wrong.
"....."
Najenda narrowed her indigo eyes.
"You disobeyed direct protocol. You engaged without informing me. "You endanger yourself and others."
"I did," Bane said, his voice low.
"And for what?" she demanded. "To chase ghosts?" To face a complete imperial force on your own?"
"....."
Najenda's glare lingered a moment longer before she sighed, her hand falling to her side.
"Hah… I'd punch the hell out of you again if I thought it'd make a difference. But I've read the full report. I know what you did... and what it cost you."
She stepped back, folding her arms.
"You fool... do you even realize you don't have a month left to live?"
He didn't respond. He did not have to.
His steadfast expression was plenty.
"Of course you know." She scoffed and took a little pause to compose herself before continuing.
"There was a meeting." A formal meeting with other higher-ups. And they all agreed that you and Sheele should be removed from Night Raid. We'll bring in fresh skilled operators to fill your positions."
"....."
Bane made no protest.
He had already predicted this conclusion.
"Where will Sheele be assigned?" he said after a pause, unconcerned about his outcome.
"....She has taken part in highly classified missions. We can't just drop her from the military. Once she is physically and psychologically stable, she will be reassigned as an instructor for new recruits. "Away from the front lines."
"I see," Bane muttered, his gaze cast at her.
"Then what about me? Can I do solo missions—"
"No, you cannot," Najenda cut him off flatly, her voice leaving no room for argument.
She took a step back, folding her arms as her gaze hardened.
"Your health condition is too sensitive and, like Sheele, you hold sensitive intel. Information the Revolutionary Army can't afford to see fall into the wrong hands."
For the first time, Bane's expression shifted.
A dry, sardonic smile curled on his lips.
She examined him, his body wrapped in tight, sterile bandages, a living witness to his near-death experience.
"You're a ticking time bomb," she stated.
"And a bomb that might blow up in your face-"
"Will get disposed of," Bane cut in.
Najenda did not answer immediately.
She just stared at him.
And for a short while, the room felt chillier than normal.
Bane stood there in silence, the weight of what remained unsaid lingering in the air between them like dust floating through the light, faint and unnoticeable but heavy, nonetheless.
He has no intentions of retaliating.
Not because he was a good soldier, but because he believed Najenda was correct.
He knew the rules far too well.
He understood how the Revolutionary Army functioned—perhaps better than anybody.
Even if it was established on ideas of deconstructing dictatorship and eradicating noble corruption... Even if it claimed to fight for equality and democracy, the harsh reality remained that power will never be equal.
What constitutes true democracy? Perhaps nothing concrete. It was a fantasy—a dream sold to the desperate.
The aristocracy would endure, just as it did under feudalism.
Only the name and face will change.
It was the same with the revolutionary army.
Ultimately, troops were tools. So was he, a soldier and a tool.
Soldiers were employed while still useful.
When they were no longer useful, they were discarded.
Not out of cruelty, but because of necessity.
It was policy. It was about survival. It was about efficiency at its finest.
And honestly.
He didn't resent it.
Because he'd been using them, too.
He hadn't joined the Revolutionary Army because he believed in the cause.
He didn't care about changing the world or uplifting the masses.
He had his own reasons.
It was for power and access to the army's vast resources that he had joined them.
A way to reach the people responsible for the deaths of his mother and father.
That was his deal with the army, his unspoken contract.
They'd use him to bring down the Empire, and he'd make sure he burned the parts that mattered most to him first.
And if he dared to stand here now and say it was all for justice? For protection? For saving lives?
He'd be nothing short of a hypocrite.
Sure, he'd saved people. Sure, his actions looked noble on paper.
But those weren't choices made from a place of righteousness, they were just the consequences of his assignments.
The byproducts of completing objectives.
Nothing more.
Yes, he had slaughtered criminals, purged corrupt officials, dismantled trafficking rings, and dismantled filth that plagued the Empire.
But among the blood spilled by his hands, there were others.
People who hadn't killed.
People who hadn't committed any crime beyond existing in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Men who raised weapons not out of loyalty to the Empire, but because they were starving.
Because they had families to protect.
Because survival left them no other choice.
Did he have the right to end their lives?
Probably not.
But he still did.
And that was why he had long since abandoned the right to justify himself in the name of humanity.
He'd traded that long ago, for results.
For vengeance.
And now all that remained was the weight of what he'd done
His thoughts were interrupted as Najenda spoke again.
"..Geralt had tried to intervene," she added after a moment.
"...."
"He attempted to speak for you. He brought up every operation you carried out—every infiltration, assassination, and achievement that should have earned you leniency. He reminded them that they were the ones that murdered Zanku and brought back Teigu for the army, the same renegade that even the Empire failed to catch."
She hesitated, her voice maintaining its crispness but softening somewhat. "He requested that they allow you to live the remainder of your life freely. He showed them your medical records and claimed that your condition rendered you no longer a threat."
The mention of Geralt caused Bane's countenance to alter somewhat.
There was a small quiver at the corner of his mouth, a muscle that revealed more than he'd admit.
"…And they denied him," He guessed.
She nodded her head, "His plea was rejected without debate. The council has declared you a liability… and a danger."
She met his gaze with a weary calm. "You are hereby classified as a monitored prisoner of the Revolutionary Army. You'll be kept under watch until the end of your natural life because of various circumstances. No field assignments. No parole. No clemency."
Bane's countenance barely changed when Geralt was mentioned, with the exception of a small twitch at the corner of his mouth.
"Don't worry," she added, "you won't be locked in a cellar. You'll be housed in a luxurious suite in recognition of your past contributions."
"How gracious of them," he replied with a dry snicker.
Najenda either didn't notice his tone or chose to ignore it.
"You won't be keeping Jörmungandr. The council has already approved its retrieval. It will be reassigned to another operative as soon as practicable."
For a brief while, there was silence.
Then Bane laughed.
"So, I'm a ghost in a cage," he said. "Breathing, bleeding, but already buried."
Najenda did not argue. She did not provide comfort.
She only observed him quietly, her countenance unreadable, touched only by the soldier's exhaustion, which never left her face.
Finally, she turned aside and walked toward the window, her boots hardly making a sound on the floor as the dim morning light stole into the room.
—----
Author's Note: Writing this chapter was challenging because of unspoken details rather than the action itself.
Bane's journey was never about heroism or overwhelming power.
It's about survival. Revenge. Navigating a system that devours its own. And ultimately, self-reflection.
He isn't innocent, and he doesn't pretend to be.
As the story moves forward, things will only grow more complicated.