The Bastion of Dawn was nothing like Aera imagined.
It was colder, quieter. Sterile. And yet… humming with life.
Even from the glass walkways above the lower districts, she could see it all — engineers calibrating artillery arrays, doctors tending to wounded civilians, architects rebuilding collapsed sectors of the underground city. Everyone here had a purpose. A role. A place.
Everything was functional.
Efficient.
Like Kael.
She gripped the railing tighter and looked down at the artificial sun above the ceiling — a pale disc of light mimicking daylight. There was no warmth in it.
Peace, yes.
But at what cost?
Her thoughts were still tangled in that short conversation. The way Kael had spoken — as if everything, including her humanity, could be reduced to numbers on a screen. As if feelings were obsolete.
He didn't see her. Not really.
Just a tool. A variable. A "useful element."
And yet…
She couldn't forget the way he had looked at the battlefield.
There was no glory in his eyes. No joy in victory. Just a cold, sharp necessity. Like he hated every second of what he was doing — but believed it was the only way.
"Do you really think this is peace?" she whispered to herself.
Footsteps echoed beside her. The same soldier from before — helmet off this time, revealing tired gray eyes and a stitched scar down his jaw.
"He's asking for you," the man said.
Aera nodded. "What's your name?"
The man blinked, as if surprised she'd asked.
"…Rehn."
"Thanks, Rehn."
He didn't reply, but something softened in his eyes.
Kael's war room was like stepping into a mind made metal. Holoscreens floated in precise formations, data streaming across each one in perfect harmony — population graphs, supply chains, political simulations, enemy cipher rotations.
And Kael, at the center, was reading three of them at once.
He barely looked up as she entered. "Sector Seven has stabilized. The refugee influx will be processed by tomorrow. You'll be assigned as a liaison."
Aera folded her arms. "You think you're saving the world by becoming its god?"
Kael's fingers paused mid-type. "…Explain."
"You talk about peace like it's an equation. If you eliminate all threats, you win. If you become the last ruler, no one can resist. But that's not peace, Kael. That's silence."
He turned. For a second, she thought she saw something flicker behind his eyes — not emotion, but… curiosity.
"You think peace can be achieved another way."
"I know it can." Her voice rose. "Through understanding. Through connection. People don't need a tyrant, even a 'benevolent' one. They need to see each other again. They need to feel. To heal."
Kael stared at her.
"Statistical modeling shows that emotional reintegration is inefficient. Human nature defaults to conflict when resources are scarce or when tribal identity is threatened."
"Then change that nature," she said. "Not by force. Not by fear. By reminding people what it means to hope."
Hope. That word lingered in the air like dust.
Kael didn't respond.
Aera stepped closer.
"You're brilliant. You've built something incredible. But you're trying to fix the world by controlling it. What if, instead, you helped it rebuild itself?"
Kael tilted his head.
"…There is no precedent for that model succeeding in post-collapse societies."
"Then we'll be the precedent."
Silence stretched between them.
Finally, Kael looked away. "You may proceed with your refugee initiative. I'll authorize the communications channels."
"Why?"
"You believe it's worth testing."
It wasn't agreement.
But it wasn't rejection, either.
It was something else.
The beginning of a crack in the system.