Kael walked back to the barracks.
The wind on the Northgate wall was 40 kilometers per hour. It did not hurt his skin. His skin was engineered to resist the cold. The pain was inside his skull.
Every step sent a shock through his spine.
It felt like a hammer striking bone.
He had used his power. He had seen the future. He had rejected three timelines where he died. The cost was paid in blood. Kael wiped his cheek. The blood from his left eye was drying. It was sticky. He did not let himself stumble. A Veiled-Asset does not stumble.
He passed the perimeter checkpoints.
The Pure soldiers on guard did not look at his face. They looked at the sword on his hip. They looked at the collar around his neck. They were afraid of him. They were right to be afraid. Kael was a weapon. He was a stolen child made into a killer. But tonight, the weapon was broken. The headache made his vision swim. The gray concrete walls of the Iron Citadel blurred into the gray sky. He needed a reset.
He turned toward the Med-Bay.
Hark had ordered it. "Report for a sensor reset."
The Med-Bay smelled of antiseptic and ozone. It was bright. Too bright. The light stabbed Kael's eyes.
A technician waited by the chair. He was Pure. He wore a white coat that was too clean. He looked at Kael with boredom.
"Asset 7-2," the technician said. "Sit."
Kael sat in the steel chair. It was cold. Restraints clicked automatically around his wrists and ankles. This was procedure.
"Status," the technician asked. He held a scanner to Kael's temple.
"Headache," Kael said. "Visual distortion. Bleeding from the left tear duct."
"Usage?"
"One activation. Duration three seconds."
The technician frowned. He looked at the scanner. "Your neural load is high for a single activation. Did you resist a timeline?"
Kael did not answer immediately. He remembered Future 3. He remembered choosing to step right. He remembered choosing not to kill the boy.
"No," Kael lied. "Standard combat calculation."
The technician typed on a screen. "You Veiled deteriorate faster every batch. Gen-12 is brittle."
He pressed a button.
The machine hummed. Two metal probes lowered from the ceiling. They touched the base of Kael's skull.
The reset began. It was not a healing process. It was a recalibration. The machine sent an electrical pulse into the pain centers of the brain. It deadened the nerves. It wiped the short-term stress hormones. It felt like ice water being poured directly onto his brain.
Kael's back arched against the chair. The restraints dug into his skin. He did not scream. Assets do not scream.
The pulse lasted ten seconds. When it stopped, the pain was gone. The guilt was gone. The memory of the boy's face was still there, but it felt distant. Like a photograph on a wall, not a person.
The technician pulled the probes back. "Clear. Get out."
The restraints unlocked. Kael stood up. He felt light. He felt hollow.
"Thank you," Kael said.
The technician did not look up. Kael walked out.
The Veiled barracks were underground. There were no windows. The air was recycled. It tasted stale. Kael walked to Squad Room 4.
His boots rang on the metal floor.
He opened the door. The room was small. Four bunks. Four lockers. A single table bolted to the floor. His squad was there. Tav sat on the bottom bunk. He was polishing his boots. Tav was Gen-12, like Kael. He was big, with hands that could crush stone. Lin lay on the top bunk. She was staring at the ceiling. She was small and fast. She used knives. Morse was at the table. He was taking apart his rifle. They stopped moving when Kael entered. They did not speak. They did not have to.
Tav stood up. He walked to the sink in the corner. He filled a metal cup with water. He handed it to Kael. Kael had not asked for water. His throat was dry, but he had not said a word.
"Drink," Tav said.
Kael took the cup. "Thanks."
"Hark is angry," Lin said from the top bunk. She did not look down. "We feel him."
"He filed a report," Morse said. He snapped the bolt of his rifle back into place. "Level 3 infraction. Failure to engage target."
Kael drank the water. It was cold. "How do you know that?"
Morse tapped his own head. "Buzzing. In the back. Like a radio left on static."
"We felt you," Tav said. He looked at Kael. His eyes were dark. "On the wall. You saw something. You spiked."
Kael lowered the cup. The connection was getting stronger. Gen-12 was not supposed to do this. The scientists called it "unit cohesion." It was not cohesion. It was a leak. Their minds were leaking into each other.
"It was a Discordi," Kael said. "Small frame. I neutralized it."
"You hesitated," Lin said. She rolled off the bunk and landed silently on the floor. She looked at Kael. "We felt the hesitation. It made my stomach turn."
"I calculated," Kael corrected. "There was ice. I checked my footing."
"Liar," Lin said. But there was no heat in her voice. Only curiosity. "You felt... sad."
"Soldiers don't get sad," Kael said. "Soldiers get the job done."
"The drone finished it," Morse said. "We heard the impact. Whatever you hesitated on, it's dead now."
The boy was gone. A puff of smoke in the snow.
"Yes," Kael said. "It's dead."
He walked to his bunk. He sat down. He wanted to sleep. The sensor reset had taken the pain, but it had left him exhausted.
"Solara wants you," Tav said.
Kael froze. "When?"
"Now," Tav said. "The order just came through the network. Commander's office."
Kael stood up again. He had not even taken off his boots.
"Watch yourself, Cap," Morse said. "The air feels heavy tonight."
Kael nodded. He left the room. He did not ask how they knew about the order before he did. He was afraid of the answer.
Commander Solara Vestris's office was in the upper levels of the Citadel. It was one of the few places in Northgate that felt like a room for humans, not machines. There was a rug on the floor. There was a real wood desk. There was a window that looked out over the city lights, away from the wall.
Solara sat behind the desk. She was reading a tablet. The light from the screen illuminated her face. She looked tired. She always looked tired.
"Lieutenant Vance," she said. She did not look up.
Kael stood at attention. "Commander."
"At ease."
Kael relaxed his stance, but only slightly. Solara placed the tablet on the desk. She rubbed the back of her neck.
Kael noticed she rubbed the same spot often. Right at the base of the skull.
"Lieutenant Hark filed a complaint," Solara said. Her voice was calm. It was the voice of a woman who had given death orders for twenty years. "He claims you failed to engage a hostile target. He claims you lied about the kill."
"The target is dead, Commander," Kael said.
"By drone strike," Solara corrected. "Not by your hand."
"The result is the same."
"Is it?" Solara stood up. She walked to the window. She wore the gray uniform of the Pure officers. It was tailored perfectly. "The drone footage shows you standing over the target for six seconds," Solara said. "The target was unarmed. It was a juvenile."
Kael said nothing.
"Hark says you froze," Solara continued. "He says your empathy conditioning is failing. He recommends a full memory wipe and reassignment to Cindral labor detail."
Kael's heart hammered against his ribs. Cindral was a death sentence.
"I did not freeze," Kael said. "I used my ability. I saw multiple futures. In the immediate timelines, the target had a dead-man's switch. An explosive. I was waiting for a clear opening."
It was a lie. A good lie.
Solara turned from the window. She looked at him. Her blue eyes were sharp.
She had enhanced pattern recognition. Kael knew this. She could spot a weakness in a battle line from a kilometer away. She could spot a lie in a lieutenant's face from two meters. She looked at him for a long time.
"A dead-man's switch," she repeated.
"Yes, Commander."
Solara walked back to her desk. She picked up the tablet. She tapped the screen three times.
"Deleted," she said.
Kael blinked. "Commander?"
"I deleted the drone footage," Solara said. "Corrupted file. Technical error. It happens in this weather."
She looked at Kael. Her face softened, just for a second.
"Hark is a fool," she said. "He likes violence. He thinks violence is strength. But you and I know better, Kael. Control is strength."
"Yes, Commander."
"But Kael?"
"Yes?"
"Don't lie to me again."
The room went cold.
"If you spare a Discordi, you tell me," Solara said. "If you think a target is not a threat, you tell me. I can protect you from Hark. I cannot protect you from your own lies."
"I understand."
"Good." She sat down. "Hark wants blood. If I dismiss his complaint, he will go to the High Marshall. He will say I am soft. So I have to give him something."
Kael braced himself.
"Live-fire exercise," Solara said. "Tomorrow morning. 06:00. Sector 9 training pit. You and your squad."
"What is the target?" Kael asked.
Solara looked at her paperwork. She did not meet his eyes.
"Hark is selecting the target," she said. "Dismissed."
Kael saluted. He turned to leave.
"Kael," Solara said.
He stopped at the door.
"Get some sleep," she said. "You look like you're carrying the whole wall on your back."
"I'm fine, Commander."
"We're all fine," she whispered. "Until we break."
Kael dreamed.
He dreamed of a woman. She was not clear. She was a shadow in a field of wheat. The wheat was gray and dead, but she was singing. It was a low song. A hum. It vibrated in his teeth.
Run, the woman sang. The sky is falling. Run.
The dream shifted. He was back on the wall. The snow was falling.
He looked down. The boy was there.
The boy with the gray growth on his jaw. The boy looked up. He didn't have eyes. He had cameras.
Future 1, the boy said. You save me. Hark shoots you. You die.
Future 2, the boy said. You save me. I run to the tunnel. I blow up the supports. The train crashes. 400 people die.
Future 3, the boy said. You save me. I go home. I grow up. I join the Sundered Spine. I kill your squadmate Tav in five years.
Future 4, Kael whispered. Is there a Future 4?
The boy smiled. His teeth were made of iron.
There is no Future 4. There is only math.
The drone buzzed. The orange light flashed. Kael woke up.
He was in his bunk. He was sweating.
The room was dark. He heard breathing. Tav was asleep. Lin was asleep. Morse was asleep. But in the back of his head, in the static, he heard them dreaming.
Lin was dreaming of falling. Tav was dreaming of food. Morse was dreaming of a dog he had once seen. Their minds were overlapping. Kael sat up. He put his head in his hands. The headache was coming back. The sensor reset was wearing off.
He was nineteen years old.
The average lifespan of a Veiled soldier was twenty-eight. He had nine years left. If he was lucky. If he kept seeing the math, he wouldn't last nine days.
06:00 Hours. Sector 9 Training Pit.
The sun was not up. The floodlights hummed. The pit was a concrete square, ten meters deep, surrounded by a steel cage. Snow swirled in the lights.
Kael stood with his squad. They were in full armor. Standard issue polymer plates. Helmets with tactical HUDs.
Tav held a heavy rotary cannon. Lin held dual combat knives. Morse held his marksman rifle.
Kael held his sword.
Hark stood on the catwalk above them. He was holding a thermal mug. Steam rose from it.
He looked warm.
"Morning, assets," Hark called down. His voice was amplified by speakers. "Commander Vestris tells me there was a technical error with the drone footage last night. A shame."
Hark took a sip from his mug.
"She says you are combat effective, Vance. She says your hesitation was a 'calculation.' I want to see your math."
Kael looked up at the catwalk. Solara was there too. She stood in the shadows, away from Hark. She gave a small nod. Do what you have to do, the nod said.
"Open the gate," Hark ordered.
At the far end of the pit, a heavy iron door groaned. It slid upward. Darkness poured out.
"Target is a captured insurgent," Hark said. "Caught trying to sabotage the southern rail. Class-1 threat. Minimal augmentation. Should be easy for a Gen-12 squad."
Movement in the doorway. A figure stumbled out.
It was not a warrior. it was an old man.
He was Discordi. His spine was curved, hunching him over. One of his arms was withered, hanging uselessly at his side. He wore rags wrapped in plastic. He blinked in the floodlights. He shielded his eyes with his good hand.
He looked terrified.
"Target identified," Morse said. His voice was flat. "No weapons visible."
"Engage," Hark said.
The squad did not move. Kael felt the ripple go through them. He's old, Lin's mind whispered in the static. He's sick, Tav thought.
This isn't a fight, Morse thought. This is an execution.
"I said engage," Hark shouted.
The old man looked up at the catwalk. Then he looked at the squad. He saw the weapons. He did not run. He sank to his knees in the snow. He started to pray. He touched his forehead to the ground.
"Rust save me. Iron keep me."
It was the Rust Gospel.
"He's praying," Kael said.
"He's stalling," Hark said. "He is a threat to the state. Eliminate him."
Kael looked at the old man. The headache spiked. It was a nail driven into his eye. Kael gripped his sword.
Show me, he thought. His power activated. The world slowed. The snow hung in the air.
Future 1:
Kael refuses. He sheathes his sword.
Hark laughs. "Defective." Hark signals the guards on the catwalk. They open fire with shock-rounds. The squad is stunned. They are dragged to the cells.
They are sent to Fenricia for "re-processing." Their minds are wiped. They become husks.
Future 2:
Kael signals Morse. "Take the shot." Morse hesitates. He misses on purpose.
Hark fires his sidearm. Morse takes a bullet in the shoulder. Tav roars. Tav spins his cannon toward Hark.
Treason. The catwalk guards shred the squad with high-caliber rounds. Everyone dies.
Future 3:
Kael steps forward. He walks to the old man. He swings the sword.
Clean. Fast.
The man dies instantly. The squad is safe. Hark is satisfied. Solara is relieved. Kael lives with the memory.
Future 4:
There is no Future 4.
Time snapped back. The snow fell.
"Vance!" Hark screamed. "Do it or I come down there and do it to you!"
Kael felt the squad behind him. They were waiting. They were scared. Not of the old man. Of Hark. Be a good slave, the system whispered. Get treats. Be a free person. Get shot.
Kael stepped forward.
"Stay back," he ordered his squad.
He walked across the concrete. The snow crunched under his boots. The old man looked up. His eyes were milky with cataracts. He saw Kael.
"The Sword," the old man whispered. "You are the Sword from the prophecy."
"I am a soldier," Kael said.
"You are a child," the old man said. "Just like the others. Stolen."
Kael stopped. He was one meter away. "I have to do this," Kael said softly.
The old man nodded. He understood.
He had lived in the wasteland for sixty years. He knew the math of survival better than anyone.
"Make it clean, child," the old man said.
Kael raised the sword. He looked at the catwalk. He looked at Hark. Hark was leaning forward, smiling. Kael looked at Solara. She had turned away. She could not watch. Kael looked back at the old man.
"Forgive me," Kael whispered.
"The Rust forgives," the man said. "The Iron remembers."
Kael swung. The blade was sharp. It cut through bone.
The old man collapsed. The snow turned red. It was a bright, shocking red under the floodlights. Kael stood over the body. He did not wipe the blade.
"Target eliminated," Kael shouted. His voice cracked.
Hark clapped. It was a slow, mocking sound.
"See?" Hark called out. "That wasn't so hard. The math is simple, Vance. Use the sword. We survive. Don't use the sword. We die."
Hark turned and walked away. The gate opened.
"Exercise complete. Return to barracks."
Kael stood there.
Tav walked up to him. He put a massive hand on Kael's shoulder. "You had to," Tav said quietly.
"I know," Kael said.
"He was praying," Lin said. She was standing over the body. She looked at the rags. "He wasn't a soldier. He was a priest."
"He was a target," Kael said.
He sheathed his sword. The click of the metal was loud in the silence. He turned to his squad. His face was hard.
"We follow orders," Kael said. "That is how we stay alive. We don't ask questions. We don't hesitate. We calculate." He looked at Morse. "Clear?"
Morse looked at the dead priest. Then he looked at Kael. "Clear, Cap," Morse said.
But Kael felt it. In the static.
He killed him. He knew it was wrong and he killed him. The trust was cracked.
Kael walked past them toward the exit. The headache was back. It pounded against his temples. He touched his face. His glove came away red. He was bleeding from his eyes again. He let it bleed. He deserved it.
High above, in the office, Commander Solara Vestris watched the feed on her screen. She watched Kael walk away. She watched the blood on his face. She opened a secure file on her terminal. It was encrypted. Level 10 clearance.
The file name was PROJECT GEN-7: SURVIVOR LOG. She typed an entry.
Subject: Asset 7-2 (Kael Vance). Status: Gen-12 confirmed.
Observation: He is breaking. The empathy inhibitors are failing. The hive resonance is increasing.
Action: He must be deployed away from Northgate. Hark will push him until he snaps. If he snaps here, I will have to execute him.
She paused. She looked at the barcode tattoo on her own wrist.
Recommendation: Assign Squad 7-2 to the Iron Artery defense detail. Northern Line. Get him out of the city.
She closed the file. Solara looked out the window at the frozen wasteland beyond the wall.
Somewhere out there, in the snow, were the Discordi. The monsters.
Solara touched the glass. "I'm sorry, Kael," she whispered. "But the train is the only place safer than here."
She was wrong. The train was not safe. The train was where the war truly lived.
And the Iron Artery was hungry.