The wind moved ash through the wreckage of the Iron Fortress like snow over a battlefield long since lost. What once stood as a symbol of endurance and ingenuity was now just steel bones and scattered stone.
Benny stood at the edge of the ruin, arms crossed. His men worked behind him, combing through debris for anything worth salvaging. Not far off, families huddled near dwindling pyres, whispering prayers for the dead.
Nozomu approached in silence, his boots crunching softly over gravel. He stopped beside Benny, his gaze following the line of smoke stretching into the clouds.
"Benny," he said quietly. "I'm sorry."
Benny didn't look at him. "No need. I knew this was coming. Should've seen it sooner."
His voice was tired but steady—like someone who'd stood too close to the truth and gotten burned.
"I should've known better when Sedgwick's men offered us that contract. I should've known it would be too good to be true... I foolishly believed producing their weapons would buy us sanctuary in exchange for our hard work. That loyalty meant something to us. But it didn't. Not to the God-King's puppets."
He gestured toward the Fortress, toward the smoldering husk it had become.
"I sold my people a future that would never come."
Nozomu's hand rested on Benny's shoulder.
"You're not the only one who made sacrifices."
Benny gave a bitter laugh. "Doesn't make me feel any better."
His eyes found the people, the children, the huddled shapes of the living. "I need to take care of them. Somehow. But look at her..."
Benny's voice cracked. "She's beyond saving. There's no rebuilding her."
"Benny, you still have a choice," Nozomu said. "You're still hesitant about the idea, but join us. Bring your people. We have more than enough space."
Benny dragged a hand down his face, his palm muffling the next words. "I know what it means to follow you, Nozomu. It's war. I'd be dragging them into war. I can't lead my people down that path."
Nozomu's gaze didn't waver.
"And if we don't fight? If we let the Mad King continue his reign? There won't be anything left for your people to return to."
He stepped closer.
"I'm not asking you to follow us into battle. I'm asking you to believe in something bigger than survival. Trust that we can win. Trust that this path will ultimately save all People of the Wastelands."
Benny's eyes traveled across the camp—to Mera playing quietly with Faye and Colt, to the recruits hauling rubble with dust-caked determination.
He sighed.
"I don't have a choice, do I?"
"No," Nozomu said. "But you do have a chance."
Benny closed his eyes. "Fine. You win."
"We all win," Nozomu replied. "We have to keep forging ahead, Benny. If not for ourselves, then at least for the sake of our collective future."
He turned, beginning to walk the trail back through the rubble. "We leave at noon. Salvage what you can."
Benny gave no answer, just nodded, and stared into the blaze of the pyre's fire.
Further along the rubble road, Pop appeared beside Nozomu, falling into step with his usual exaggerated sigh.
"Yo."
Nozomu didn't slow. "What is it? What do you want, Pop?"
"Rude. Who says I want something? Maybe I just wanted to share the sunrise with a friend. Or maybe I have something important to report."
"If it was important, you should've sent a whisper instead of wasting time."
"Fine, you got me."
"So, what is it?"
"...You wouldn't lie to me, would you, Nozomu?" Pop's voice was low and loaded.
Nozomu stopped.
"You knew he was following us," Pop said, not as a question but a certainty finally spoken aloud. "Didn't you?"
The wind shifted, brushing past them with a chill that didn't belong to the sunlit morning. The two stood still, while the silence stirred faintly in the breeze.
Nozomu didn't answer right away. He looked at the horizon, where the sun bled orange over the ruin.
"And what makes you think that?" he asked at last.
Pop studied Nozomu, his eyes scanning the sharp angles of a man who didn't speak often without purpose.
"You suddenly changed course without any explanation. You gave Evaughn and Tana orders to rendezvous with us here coincidentally before the attack. Then you vanished after Evaughn showed up. And don't tell me you went to check on Bella and Tana. You didn't... None of it adds up."
"...Of course, I knew, Pop," Nozomu said softly.
Pop's anger surged as the truth settled in. Heat rushed up his neck. His hands balled into fists.
"I knew it… Nozomu, you're saying… you led the Section Commander here? On purpose?"
Nozomu didn't flinch. His expression remained composed—too composed.
"Yes."
That calm tone—flat, unaffected—pushed Pop over the edge.
"Yes...? Is that all you have to say is yes!?" Pop snapped, stepping forward. His hand slammed into Nozomu's chest, seizing him by the collar.
"You brought this fight to their doorstep! People died! Children died! They have no home now!"
The heat of Pop's anger cracked, and his grip faltered. Nozomu calmly fixed his collar as Pop released him.
"I won't lie to you, Pop. You're one of the few people I trust not to crack under the truth."
Nozomu looked Pop dead in the eyes.
"They started tailing us after Artimia. At first, I wasn't sure… but realized we could use this as a chance. Letting them attack us here at the Fortress would give Benny a reason to walk away. To finally join us."
Pop stared at him. "You gambled with their lives..."
"I didn't intend for this outcome. I didn't think the Iron Fortress would fall. But the opportunity was there, and I took it."
Pop's voice broke. "Nozomu... people died. Families burned. Children buried their parents in flames and ashes. Do you even see that? Do you not care?"
"I see it," Nozomu replied, softer now. "And I carry it. But if we want to end the Mad King's reign... If we want to liberate the People of the Wastelands, we must be prepared to accept the casualties that come with it. Regardless of the methods used, whatever the means to the end. There will be blood."
Pop looked away. His chest heaved once, shoulders rising and falling with its weight.
"Pop. What's the cost of freedom?"
Pop didn't answer right away.
Then, with a breath that tasted of smoke and regret, he muttered, "...Sacrifices."
"Exactly, sacrifices."
Nozomu resumed his walk down the path, leaving Pop frozen in place from his words.
"This stays between us," Nozomu said over his shoulder.
"...Yes, sir..." Pop replied, his face etched with a whirlwind of emotions.
By midday, the work was nearly done. The wreckage had been picked through, every shard of metal and scrap of memory gathered by careful hands.
Benny stood at the helm of his carriage, reins in hand, eyes scanning the trail ahead with a weight that refused to lift.
One of Nozomu's carriages had been filled with what little remained of the Iron Fortress—twisted steel, damaged weapons, broken tech.
The second carried survivors, packed shoulder to shoulder alongside Benny's carriage.
There wasn't much space. Just enough to keep moving.
No luxury. No comfort.
Just enough to survive.
Evaughn approached Benny with a quiet look. "That everything?" he asked.
Benny nodded slowly.
"You sure?" Evaughn asked. "Once we leave… we won't be coming back."
Benny didn't answer right away. His gaze swept the ruins of the Iron Fortress behind them.
He turned his head and called out over his shoulder. "Marco! We good?"
"All loaded up, sir!" Marco called back, jogging to join him at the front of the carriage.
Benny gave a slow nod, then looked to Evaughn. "We're done here. Let's ride."
Nozomu's voice rose across the camp. "Recruits, let's move out!"
Theo lingered outside the carriage, kneeling beside Mimi, scratching her behind the ears. David and Dawn stood close, the recruits gathering loosely around them.
Like the calm before a long road, a stillness was in the air.
"We all made it out alive," Curtis muttered, stretching with a deep groan. His voice held that fragile note of disbelief—the kind that comes after surviving what should've killed you.
"Barely," Clarissa said, brushing dust from her arms. "Still feels like a dream. A bad one."
"More like a nightmare," Aida mumbled.
Arthur stepped forward, glancing toward what was left of the Iron Fortress. "One thing's for sure. We're not strong enough yet."
"Speak for yourself, Pentadraig." Bryce gave a short scoff, brushing off his shoulder. "I held my own."
"Yeah, right. You damn near pissed your pants back there when that Devil lunged at us."
"I did not!"
"You did, too!"
"Do you two ever shut up!?" Aeda snapped, stepping between them. "You argue more than an old married couple!"
They quieted—barely.
Aida's voice returned, small and unsteady. "I just… I wish Benny's friends didn't have to…"
She didn't finish the sentence. The words caught in her throat.
Clarissa reached over, gently placing a hand on Aida's arm. "I know," she said softly. "Me too."
They all stood there for a moment—young soldiers caught between the battle they survived and the road still waiting—but something else lingered, resolve—the kind that only comes after loss.
Pop's voice cut through the quiet like a slap.
"Why the hell are you all still standing around?" he barked, appearing behind them without a sound. "Get on the damn carriage! The Commander gave the order—move out!"
The recruits jumped, startled by the sudden command.
"S-Sorry! We're going!" Clarissa, Aeda, and Aida chorused in a flurry of flustered movement.
But a shadow blocked their path just as they reached for the carriage steps.
Nozomu stood at the entrance.
His presence brought the world to a halt.
"I've been told," he began, "of what you all did back there."
The recruits froze. Silence fell over them like dust settling after collapse. Their hearts thudded in their chests, unsure if they were about to be reprimanded… or honored.
"You stood your ground. You saved lives. You faced what most soldiers wouldn't dare."
His gaze drifted from one face to the next—Clarissa, Arthur, Bryce, Aida, Aeda… Dawn.
"You've exceeded every expectation," Nozomu said. "I know the pain of loss still clings to you, but make no mistake—because of you, fewer lives were lost. Be proud of that. Own it."
His voice dropped slightly, a whisper wrapped in iron.
"Your journey toward freedom has only just begun."
With that, he stepped aside and boarded the carriage, the wind catching his cloak as he disappeared inside. One by one, the recruits followed silently, the weight of his words still burning in their chests.
Only three remained behind.
Theo. David. Dawn.
None of them spoke at first. The moment stretched—still, reverent.
Then Dawn's voice broke through, quiet and shaky.
"Hey… guys?"
"Yeah?" Theo answered, watching Mimi as she jumped aboard the carriage.
"What's up?" David added.
Dawn hesitated, her eyes low.
"I know it's dangerous. I know it's reckless… but deep down... I can't help but think we did the right thing. Choosing to stay. To fight."
Dawn's confession hung in the air until Theo and David smiled, their eyes reflecting a shared sentiment.
"Yeah, I think so too," Theo said, turning toward her. "Feels like this… all of this? It actually matters now."
David nooded. "Like the Commander said, our journey has just begun."
The three stood together momentarily, united by that fragile but growing belief.
Then—
A shadow dropped from above.
Pop landed hard in front of them, arms crossed and scowl locked. "If you three aren't on this carriage in the next five seconds, we're driving off with your socks and dignity still on the ground."
The trio jumped.
"We're coming, we're coming!" Theo yelped as they scrambled into the carriage like kids caught skipping class.
Pop shook his head, muttering something under his breath about "damn dramatics," and climbed in after them.
A sharp whistle echoed across the clearing.
"Move out!" Nozomu's voice thundered across the ruins like the snap of fate itself.
And then—with wheels creaking, reins snapping, and dust kicking into the wind—the three carriages rolled into motion.
The shattered remains of the Iron Fortress fell behind them, swallowed by sunlight, as the convoy moved forward into the endless horizon of the Wastelands—toward a future still unwritten, and a war yet to be won.