The air in the locker room was heavy with silence.
The once-tense battlefield had been replaced by the dull hum of flickering lights, the quiet rustling of cadets changing, and the occasional clang of metal lockers being shut. The simulation was over. They had won.
And yet, Asher still couldn't wrap his head around it.
He sat on one of the benches, running a towel through his hair as his gaze flicked toward Astron. The guy was as unreadable as ever, calmly unstrapping his equipment, moving like he hadn't just walked into hell and come back with a trophy.
And that—that was the problem.
Asher hadn't stopped thinking about it since the second the notification hit his ears. How?
He needed answers.
Caden, sitting on the bench across from him, was still processing everything himself, shaking his head as he muttered, "I swear, if I have to fight Rebecca again anytime soon, I might just sit that one out."
Asher ignored him. His focus was on Astron.
