The attack on the Elyon Federation had been stalled.
They were granted a mere month of respite—a chance to breathe, a chance to prepare.
But this fragile reprieve came at a cost.
It was all thanks to the sacrifice of one soldier.
Maya Bane. A name destined to be etched into the annals of history.
But none of that mattered to her little boy right now.
Tears streamed down Seth Bane's cheeks. His mother's final words echoed in his mind, but they brought no comfort—only a hollow ache.
His classmates around him felt his suffocating emotions, and both his homeroom teacher and classmates were too stunned to offer solace.
They had all been there.
They had watched her sacrifice, seen her become a shield for Their city.
'Poor boy,' Miss Clarice thought, watching him from the side. 'His mother didn't even get to know whether he became an irregular or not.'
She opened her mouth to console him, but the words caught in her throat. How do you comfort a child whose world has just crumbled?
Just as she stood to approach him, a shrill noise broke through the heavy silence.
Ring! Ring!
"Attention, citizens of Elyon. Due to the current situation, all residents are to return home immediately. The city will now enter a twenty-four-hour curfew. Repeat: All citizens are to head to their homes regardless of circumstances."
The announcement was followed by the hum of hover buses arriving outside. They had come to transport people back to their homes.
Miss Clarice sighed, her attempt to comfort Seth abandoned. Instead, she turned her focus to organizing the students, ushering them toward the buses.
The chatter and noise that usually filled a vehicle carrying sixteen-year-olds were absent today.
As the dead of silence reigned over the bus.
Seth barely registered any of it—the announcement, the bus, his teacher's guiding hand.
He was lost in a haze, staring lifelessly out the window, watching the futuristic build of the city, as if searching for something beyond the horizon.
The other students didn't dare disturb him, respecting his grief in the only way they knew how: by leaving him alone.
As the bus trundled forward, all Seth could think about was his mother. Her final, graceful moments replayed in his mind like a broken record, her last transmission to him haunting every corner of his thoughts.
---
Enforcer Headquarters...
In the dimly lit conference room, tension crackled like static electricity.
Around the polished table sat three generals and two admirals.
The absence of a third admiral loomed over the proceedings like a ghost.
Admirals were the strongest soldiers—the S-class irregulars who stood at the apex of humanity's power.
Generals, on the other hand, were strategists, their minds sharp and tactical. In this room, brains and brawn clashed in uneasy harmony.
General Carl leaned forward, rubbing his forehead as if trying to banish a headache. "I've contacted the other federations. There's good news and bad news."
His colleagues' gazes remained fixed on him. With a weary sigh, he continued.
"The good news is that the other federations have agreed to help. They'll each accept a limited number of our citizens."
"And the bad news?" Admiral Kendrick's voice was clipped, his eyes narrowing.
"They're only accepting five hundred people per federation. That gives us space to evacuate just five thousand five hundred people in total." Carl paused, letting the weight of his words sink in. "And there's no military support. None."
The room erupted.
Bang! General Scar's fist slammed against the table. "Are they insane? We have over six million people in our federation, and they're offering to take five hundred each?"
"They claim it's the maximum number that won't disrupt their economies and resources," Carl replied, his voice tight.
"It's absurd," General Jones muttered, his distress evident. "They've seen what those monsters can do, and they're still underestimating them?"
"They're hedging their bets," Admiral Kozec said darkly. "They want to keep their forces strong so they can face the enemy at full strength when it's their turn. As far as they're concerned, we're already dead. A month's delay is just a stay of execution."
Silence fell over the room. Finally, General Scar spoke, his voice grim but resolute.
"Kozec is right. Sympathy won't save us now. Our priority must be preserving the future of humanity. I propose we allocate evacuation spots to the best and brightest of the younger generation. They will carry the hope of our species forward while the rest of us stand our ground."
There were murmurs of agreement—except from Admiral Kendrick.
"Wait," Kendrick said, his voice sharp. "Before we finalize anything, I want confirmation. Regardless of his results—useless or not—Maya's son should have a guaranteed spot."
"Absolutely not," Scar snapped, cutting him off. "If the boy is a prodigy, fine. If not, he stays. We can't let his case be used as an excuse for corrupt officials to exploit. If we're doing this, we're doing it impartially."
"You bastard!" Kendrick's anger exploded. "Without his mother, this war would have ended before it even began!"
"Enough!" Carl intervened, with a sharp bark.
"Let's not waste time on infighting. We don't even know the boy's potential yet. For all we know, he could be an S-class irregular. Let's focus on the task at hand."
Only after listening to this did Kendrick calm down, though his scowl made his frustration clear.
After calming the room Carl leaned forward. "For now, let's plan our defenses. This war was only delayed, it wasn't Stopped ."