"You're our Captain?!" Yon and Red exclaimed in unison.

  "Was there a reason you didn’t inform us before?" Tyson asked, suspicion lacing his tone.

  "Was there a reason I should have?" Cosmo retorted. "By all accounts, my underlings failed to demonstrate proper respect by not introducing themselves in the presence of a superior. The least you deserved was my courtesy in kind." His tone was firm, assured.

  "Besides," he added with a shrug, "there’s an unspoken rule within Veil that superiors aren’t to reveal their status beforehand. I never understood the origin, but I've always liked it."

  "...Fair point," Tyson conceded rather easily. It shed light on why both Jid and Ally had only given their names during introductions. "But I still find it unfair that we were expected to recognize someone who looks no older than ourselves as our superior."

  "Why must I stoop to highlighting such an oversight, as if it were a valid disqualification?" Cosmo countered. "The fact remains—I am your Captain. That alone is enough."

  "...Fair," Tyson repeated, surrendering a second time. His lack of pushback was beginning to stand out, and the shared glances around the room showed the others felt it too.

  "You’re honest... I don’t hate that," Cosmo remarked, noting the trait with a trace of amusement.

  And yet, for reasons none could quite place, there was an unsettling feeling—one that whispered those two wouldn’t get along at all.

  "If there are no more questions, I’ll get straight to it—"

  "Hold on," Red interrupted, stepping forward. "There’s no way we’re just supposed to accept this."

  "What do you mean?" Cosmo blinked at the interruption, clearly confused.

  "It’s starting to feel like this is all some sick joke," Blue added, voice sharp with disbelief. "You do know what this is, right?" She gestured toward him, her eyes narrowing.

  "Yeah, it’s your enlistment," he replied plainly, seemingly oblivious to the weight behind her words.

  Blue's expression softened. "...Then you really don’t know."

  Their gazes turned away from him, and the mood in the room soured—grown solemn and still.

  Rita, silent until now, began walking toward the door Cosmo had entered from.

  "Hey—where are you going? That door doesn’t lead anywhere unless you know what you’re doing," he called after her, making her stop mid-step.

  Tyson gritted his teeth, tension coiling in his chest.

  "What’s wrong with you guys?" Cosmo asked, voice low.

  A long pause followed before Yon sighed and stepped forward, placing a hand on Cosmo’s shoulder.

  "Look, man," he began, tone careful and patronizing. "I’m all for rolling with it and keeping things quiet, but... this is kinda unfortunate."

  He sounded like he was preparing to break bad news.

  "The thing is... you’re not really being taken seriously by your higher-ups."

  This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  "Is that so? I figured as much." Cosmo responded with surprising calm.

  "Well, what I’m trying to say is... we are—"

  "Spiteful enlistments? I know."

  Yon recoiled slightly, removing his hand. "You... know?"

  "Of course." Cosmo rested his hands on his hips, nonchalant. "But don’t worry, I’m quite capable. You won’t regret working under me—"

  "That’s not what we mean," Tyson finally interrupted, voice heavy. "...Apparently, we’re supposed to be burdens."

  Cosmo stared at them for a moment, eyes unreadable.

  "Who decided that?"

  No one answered.

  "The point is, I came because..." Tyson’s voice wavered. "Honestly, I was hoping someone here would help me not be the same."

  The others couldn't disagree. Whether they'd admit it aloud or not, each of them had hoped this cruel circumstance could become an opportunity.

  But now, it felt like they were the punchline to someone else's joke—offered up to a Captain who was meant to entertain, not lead.

  "Sorry, man," Yon said quietly, with genuine sympathy. "We’ll get out of your hair. Can you show us the way out?"

  Cosmo’s expression darkened.

  "I asked you a question," he repeated, voice sharp and cold—so much so their breath caught. "Who decided that?"

  He lifted his gaze slowly toward the ceiling, eyes narrowing.

  "I see," he muttered to himself, blinking slowly as he brought his head down.

  His voice changed—measured, impassive.

  "Yonar Hathaway. Deemed a coward who would compromise a mission at the first sign of danger. His inability to commit to anything daunting makes him a liability in all assignments."

  Yon took a step back, stunned.

  "Blue and Red Acciari," Cosmo continued, turning to the twins. "Capable only in close proximity to each other. Authority weakens the farther they're separated."

  Without Turning. "Tyson Jarul. The first and only failure from the Jarul family. Minimal fire output, abysmal accuracy. Unqualified."

  His head finally turned to Rita, who stood with her back to him.

  "Rita... void last name. Disowned."

  Gasps filled the room as all eyes turned to her. Her fists trembled at her sides.

  Tyson stepped forward, grabbing Cosmo by the collar. "You bastard! Stop that!" He had no idea what Cosmo would say next, but he could see it was hurting her.

  Cosmo didn’t flinch.

  "Dispatched as lead on a mock shadow beast expedition during her third year at the academy."

  "I said stop!"

  "Returned as the only survivor. Due to the mission’s supposed ease, deemed incompetent as a leader and as an Eminent."

  Rita closed her eyes. Her fists slowly unclenched. Her posture relaxed—not from relief, but from resignation.

  "She reported it as a case of mutation—but such phenomena have never been observed outside the Shadow Continent."

  "You—" Tyson’s anger boiled over.

  "Please," Rita said softly. "Don’t fight for my sake."

  "Subsequently judged for signs of anger issues. Lashes out using her authority. Unqualified."

  Tyson couldn’t take it anymore. He swung with all his strength, his fist crashing into Cosmo’s face—sending him to the ground.

  The room fell into stunned silence.

  "I told you not to—" Rita began.

  "That one was for me," Tyson interrupted. But even as he said it, something felt wrong. It never felt like he made contact. There was no pain in his knuckles. No mark on Cosmo’s face.

  Without using his hands, Cosmo lifted himself from the floor in a fluid, unnatural motion.

  “I'll let that slide this time,” Cosmo stated coldly, brushing himself off as if Tyson’s blow had never connected. “That’s the only one you’ll ever get.”

  “What was the point of that?” Red asked, frustration bleeding into genuine curiosity.

  “You all chose to come here,” Cosmo replied, stepping forward. “Despite those evaluations—those labels that were meant to define you, limit you. But now you’re ready to turn back? Why? Because you don’t believe you can change? Because I’m not what you expected?”

  The silence that followed was heavy. He stared each of them down.

  “If you’re still looking to change… I’ll give you a hint.” His hands lifted, palms open toward them. “Bet on me.”

  They froze. Hesitating.

  His voice was calm—steady, yet resolute. “You’ve already been written off. So have I, if you haven’t noticed. But I’m not going to beg you to stay.”

  This wasn’t their only chance. They weren’t nobodies. Eminents—even flawed ones—were rare. Valuable. The world beyond Veil still had room for them.

  Plenty of doors remained open, even without this path. They could walk away. They could start over somewhere safer, somewhere less cruel.

  But they each had a reason they were here.

  A reason they hadn’t already left.

  They hadn’t come to Veil because they had nowhere else to go.

  They came there because something was worth risking it all.

  His arms remained outstretched, unwavering.

  “Try me. I won’t promise it’ll be easy. I won’t even pretend it’ll be fun,” he said, gaze firm. “But I can swear that if you give me a shot. I’ll make damn sure you never regret it.”