"So, why did you ask me to meet you?"
Nero, who had woken up not long ago, stood on the terrace. Lucas leaned lazily against the railing, the cold breeze brushing past them under the dim light of the virtual moon.
"How do you feel?" Lucas asked, voice calm.
"Tired. Unlike a certain someone, I had to oversee everything regarding the war and have been busy ever since I opened my eyes," Nero said, stretching his neck with clear annoyance.
"That's what you get for choosing to become the Commander," Lucas smirked. "But I wasn't asking about that. I meant—how do you feel about losing to someone you considered weaker?"
"So this was just an excuse to gloat about your victory?" Nero's eyes narrowed. "Let me tell you, it was a fluke. I'll win next time."
"I was worried you might fall into despair after losing," Lucas said with a shrug. "But it seems I was wrong."
"If that's all you wanted, this is a waste of time."
Nero turned to leave, but Lucas's voice stopped him.
"Wait. At least talk to me for a few minutes before storming off."
"Fine," Nero growled. "But make it worthwhile. Otherwise, I swear, I'll take you down right here—even if it costs us the war."
"Don't worry. I'll make it quick so you can get back to leading your troops. Here's my question: why do you think you lost against me?"
"What?" Nero blinked.
"I'll admit—I set a trap using my Blessing. That's what knocked you out. But someone like you—skilled, alert, capable—should've been able to dodge it. So why did you fail?"
Nero went quiet. It wasn't that he didn't know the answer. He just didn't want to say it.
Lucas answered for him. "You let your emotions cloud your judgment. Sure, I provoked you first, but you snapped too easily. You lost control."
"..."
"This whole war might be that Drama Queen's idea," Lucas continued, "but the spark that set it off? That was you and Chase. And you know it."
Nero clenched his fists. There was a lot he wanted to argue—but couldn't. Lucas was right.
"At least you're self-aware, unlike Chase. So here's some advice: learn to control your anger. Use it to grow stronger. Don't let it control you. Otherwise… you'll never get your revenge."
"How do you..."
"How do I know?" Lucas tilted his head. "Because you're not hiding it well. One word is all it takes to set you off. Everyone's probably noticed by now—even if they don't know what exactly happened, and some even know much before."
"...What are you trying to say?"
Lucas turned to face him fully, eyes serious now. "Nero, your past—it's not as secret as you think. Some people figured it out. As early as the start of this year."
Nero's eyes widened. "...What?"
Lucas continued, "Think about it. The other class, especially Albert, they knew exactly who to provoke and how. Chase was easy—he wears his bad attitude like a uniform. But you? You had a good reputation, a composed presence. Yet they taunted you just as viciously. Doesn't that strike you as odd?"
"..."
"And then there's that word: Whoreson."
Nero stiffened.
"That word made you angrier than Chase ever got. It hit a nerve. A deep one. And Albert—he didn't just throw it randomly. He used it precisely, like a dagger."
"...You're saying… this was all part of a plan?"
"The most likely case? Yes. It wasn't random. They deliberately baited you and Chase because they knew how you'd react. Someone from the other class knows more about us than we realized."
Nero looked down, jaw clenched.
Lucas's voice softened, but remained firm. "Be careful, Nero. The other class isn't just throwing punches in the dark. They know what they're doing. And they know us more than we know them."
"..."
"We're playing someone else's game, and we didn't even realize it."
Nero slowly nodded. "...Even if that's true, it doesn't matter. Let them plan whatever they want. Our class will win this war."
Lucas nodded in response. "I hope you're right."
Nero left.
Lucas, now alone under the sky, let out a slow breath. He gazed at the stars above and muttered to himself.
"...I didn't say the entire truth, Nero."
His expression remained unchanged.
"I know why this war started. It's not about resources or class rivalry. It's to expose Nero's strength. They're drawing him out—testing his limits. And he's walking right into it."
He closed his eyes.
"I've done what I could. It's up to him whether he listens to my advice or not."
The wind picked up, whispering around him. Lucas looked up at the night sky again and chuckled darkly.
"So… how does it feel to be dancing in the palm of someone's hand, Miss Drama Queen? If you were paying attention to this conversation, you should've figured it out by now. Someone orchestrated this war, without you even realizing it. Some Queen you are."
******
The mood was tense. Inside the command room, Nero stood at the head of the war table. Amelia and Grace sat nearby. The remaining squad captains waited in silence as Nero opened the meeting.
"We move out at dawn."
He looked at Amelia & Grace. "Did you guys figure out what our next step should be?"
Amelia nodded. "This war is going to be a fight for survival."
"Explain."
"By now, you must've noticed," Amelia said, pointing at the map. "There are no food or water supplies in our camp. And based on what we know, it's likely the same for the other class."
Grace raised an eyebrow. "So the resources are...?"
"Somewhere in the middle. Between our two camps," Amelia confirmed. "I've looked around this place with Anastasia and determined that we're close to the edge of the virtual boundary here."
She tapped a specific point on the map.
"Using that, I predict the supply location must be here—the central axis opposite to the closest edge discovered."
Nero studied the map for a moment, then nodded.
"We'll head there tomorrow morning. Be ready. Everyone is dispersed except for Amelia and Anastasia."
The squad captains saluted and left. Only Amelia and Anastasia remained.
Nero folded his arms.
"I had a conversation with Lucas an hour ago."
He shared everything Lucas had said. The trap. The emotional manipulation. The provocation. The enemy's apparent knowledge of their class's weaknesses.
Both girls listened in silence.
"That explains… everything," Anastasia whispered.
Amelia looked troubled. "If Lucas is right—and I believe he is—then this war was never about winning or losing. It's been orchestrated from the start."
"And even the Queen is just a pawn in someone else's game," Nero finished grimly.
There was a long pause.
Finally, Amelia spoke. "This changes things. If they've been manipulating us since the beginning, then we need to rethink our every move from here on."
Nero nodded.
"They wanted to target me. Well… they'll regret that."
He turned away from the map.
"Because now, I will make sure that we win this war."
******
Yelena Morningstar stood in front of the translucent observation panel that overlooked the entire virtual battlefield. Screens floated around her, showing video feeds, tactical overviews, and emotional resonance charts collected by the system.
She had been silently observing Lucas and Nero's conversation from the moment it began.
The last few minutes played back in her mind—Lucas's smirking challenge, Nero's momentary silence, and that parting remark aimed directly at her.
A slight twitch of her eye was the only visible reaction.
"Tch…"
She turned slightly, picking up a floating data tablet, eyes glancing through reports without truly reading them.
"Arrogant brat."
She let the words slip under her breath, just loud enough for the automated assistant near her to register—but not comment.
She wasn't truly angry. No, anger would have meant admitting Lucas got under her skin. He didn't.
But he was irritating. For some reason, the current Lucas feels different compared to the last time they saw each other; he was more like a mix of his younger prodigal self and the recent degenarate self—unpredictable, elusive, and somehow always five steps ahead even when playing the fool.
"Dancing in someone's palm, huh…" she repeated with dry amusement.