- Oliver -

  Oliver was at his limit. The sheer amount of blood he had lost left him teetering on the edge of sciousness. But as his vision blurred, the face of the medic swam into focus, a sembnce of reassura was hard to believe she was right there.

  Her red hair ulled bato a long ponytail, a deep scar etched across her otherwise pale face. Her eyes reflected her as she assessed his dition.

  "Damn it. He's losing blood fast. Begin an emergency transfusion," she barked, her tone leaving no room for hesitation. "You, with me—let's get him onto the ship!"

  The crisp authority in her voice trasted sharply with her youthful appearance, making her seem far tougher than her delicate features suggested.

  'Well, the pink armor suits her,' was Oliver's st fleeting thought as he watched Astrid take and of the situation.

  An instant of fractured awareness flickered before everything slipped away. His mind grappled to hold onto something—anything—as if trying to catch sand slipping through his fingers. It was futile. Darkness engulfed him, heavy and endless.

  The first sound that pierced the void was the rhythmic beeping of maes. The air was sterile, tinged with the st of disiant, and each breath felt fn, as though he inhabited a body that wasn't his own. His head throbbed, thoughts muddled, like trying to assemble puzzle pieces that refused to fit.

  Shapes moved around him, blurred faces and muffled voices. Ss of versation floated past—expressions of relief, murmurs of astonishment at his recovery. The world had bee a disjoiapestry, reality feeling anything but natural. The time he had lost ing hole in his memory, impossible to fill.

  Among the stream of people entering and leaving the room, one figure stood out—Astrid. Uhe others medical uniforms, she remained in her Ranger armor, its pink hue a stark trast to the sterile whites and grays of the infirmary.

  "They're all w how you recovered so quickly," she said softly as he blinked his eyes open. Her voice was calmer now, infused with a gentleness he hadn't noticed before. "You lost a lot of blood. Your body seemed to also not be regeing your Energy. Not to mention the fight with a Red Ork. They expected you'd be unscious for at least two months."

  "Two months?" Oliver croaked, his throat dry, voice barely more than a whisper. "How long... was I out?"

  "Five weeks," Astrid replied.

  He tried to sit up, a jolt of pain stopping him halfway. "How did it end?" he mao ask, pieg together fragments of his fading memories.

  "As soon as the Mechs arrived, we mao halt their advance," she expined. "But we had to call in Mechs from York, Meridius, and Selene. Evehe Half Wall was nearly destroyed. The Metal Titan tore through a rge part of the structure."

  "Shit," Oliver muttered, frustration seeping into his voice. ‘Even with the Green Armor, we still couldn't defend,’ he thought bitterly.

  Astrid seemed to sense his turmoil. "You did more than anyone could have asked," she said quietly. "Many lives were saved because of you."

  He looked away, staring at the sterile ceiling. "Doesn't feel like enough," he murmured.

  "Even so, the Emperor is broadcasting it as a victory," Astrid said, her gaze drifting toward the panoramidow that overlooked the horizon. "Perhaps it is. Holding back fifty Titans without Half Wall being reduced to dust—maybe we sider that a win."

  Oliver sat up slightly in his hospital bed, the crisp sheets rustling with his movement. An unfortable siletled between them, both unsure of what to say.

  "How did you end up there?" Oliver asked, breaking the quiet. It was surreal to see his former Academy cssmate amidst all that chaos.

  "During the attack, they needed everyoo help tain the advance, especially for the evacuation and rescue operations," Astrid expined. "I haven't pleted my medical traini, but they just needed extra hands for first aid and support."

  "You've mastered your armor well," Oliver remarked, noting the sleek pink Ranger Armor she wore.

  "Not as much as you have," she replied with a faint smile. "Isn't this the third time I've saved you now?" Her eyes sparkled with a teasing glint. "How do you mao turn simple missions into world-gis?"

  Oliver chuckled softly, though the motio a twinge of pain through his ribs. "I keep asking myself the same thing."

  "Regardless," Astrid tinued, "you will receive a medal for the intel you provided."

  "Really?" He raised an eyebrow, genuinely surprised.

  "Yes, although not in person sihe ceremony is tomorrow, and you're in no shape to attend," she said, pushing a stray lock of hair bato her ponytail. "But they'll surely mention you and send along the award."

  She stood up from the chair beside his bed. "I should get bay duties. By the way, some friends sent you a few things." She gestured to a small table cluttered with packages. "They're right over there."

  "Thanks, Astrid. For everything," Oliver said early.

  She gave him a warm smile. "You're wele. But you owe me a unch; I’ll hold you to that ime." She gave a pyful wink before heading toward the door. "Take care of yourself."

  "I'll do my best," he called after her.

  Once she was gohe room seemed quieter. Oliver leaned over carefully, mindful of his healing wounds, and reached for the packages. There were three in total.

  The first was a box of chocotes from Isabel, a ached in her handwriting: "Thought you might hese when you woke up. Get well soon!"

  He smiled, uning one of the chocotes. The sed package tained photos of Katherine and Isabel, both grinning widely and giving thumbs-up signs. For the first time, he saw them in their Ranger armors—Katherine's in red and Isabel's in yellow. On the back of the photo, they had written: "Hurry up a ba your feet! We need you out here!"

  Oliver smiled affeately.

  The third package was lightweight, almost as if nothing was inside. Curious, he ope to find an unmarked envelope. "Who sends letters these days?" he wondered aloud.

  Sliding a single piece of paper from the envelope, he found a simple image of an hss drawn at the top. Beh it were the words: "Do not accept your award."

  Oliver's brow furrowed. There was no signature, no indication of who might have sent it. ‘What oh does that mean?’ he thought, turning the paper over to cheore, but it was bnk.

  Utled in his stomach. Was this some kind of prank? A threat? Or a warning? He couldn't tell.

  Deg it wasn't worth the headache, he crumpled the note and tossed it into the waste bin beside his bed. "Strange," he muttered. But with everything else going otle, his recovery—the st thing he needed was another mystery to solve.

  Oliver y back down on the infirmary bed, i on expl his gauo see what new information or abilities he might have gained. However, the sedatives still c through his system were potent, and gradually, sleep overtook him once more. When he awoke, the soft light of m filtered through the blinds—a new day had dawned.

  ‘Damn, I fell asleep,’ Oliver thought to himself.

  He g the time dispyed on his gau; it was already 10:31 AM.

  "The award ceremony!" he suddenly remembered. It must have already started.

  Quickly, he activated his gau, navigating through the o find a el broadcasting the ceremony. With a tap, he engaged in projeode.

  The broadcast rojected on the wall in front of him. Oliver instantly reized the setting—the vast, sprawling wn of the White House. No longer home to a president, it now served as the residence of the governor of Area 01. Yet, it remained a symbol of tradition and was frequently used for orative events.

  A modest stage had beeed on the emerald grass, with hundreds of chairs arranged before it. Attenda the ceremony was limited to a select few from the Great Houses and the hohemselves. The general public would withe event through broadcasts like the one Oliver was tuning into.

  What surprised him most was the figure standing at the ter of the stage—the Emperor himself. Lucius Meridius rarely appeared in publid his prese events was nearly unheard of. He cut an imposi uling figure. Despite the grandeur of his shimmering silver armor, which sighe immense power he wielded, his physical appearaold a different story. His eyes were sunken, shadows casting dark circles beh them, and his cheeks were hollow, giving him a gaunt, almost spectral visage that did not speak of a man in good health.

  Oher side of the stage, the fgs of the Great Houses fluttered gently in the breeze. But something caught Oliver's eye—there were fewer bahan there should have been. He ted quickly. Not twelve, not even eleven. Only nine fgs stood proudly.

  "Three families' fgs are missing. The Lot, and who else?" Oliver wondered aloud.

  A sense of utled over him. The absence of the fgs hi deeper turmoil within the Empire's hierarchy. The Lot family had retly decred independence, dubbing their territory the Republic of Encedus, but who were the others? The shifting allegiances of the Great Houses could have signifit implications for the ongoing war and the stability of the Empire itself.

  Above the gathered crowd, the sky was alive with droheir diminutive forms hovered unobtrusively as they captured every possible angle of the ceremony. They ehat the Emperor's image rojected to every er of human-inhabited space, leaving no oouched by his words.

  "Sons and daughters of the Empire!" Emperor Lucius Meridius procimed. He raised his arms high, the gesture anding attention more than a greeting. gleaming silver armor, he presented a striking trast to his gauures and hollow cheeks. His eyes, deep-set and shadowed, heless sparkled with a fierce determination that belied his frail appearance.

  "Today, more than ever, we must remember what unites us: our humanity, our blood, lory!" His gaze swept over the assembled crowd and the myriad of h cameras transmitting his image across the Empire. It felt as though his pierg eyes met eadividual, no matter how distant. "This Empire was not built by the weak or by traitors, but by those who uood that unity is reatest strength!"

  He took a deliberate step forward. "There are enemies out there," he tinued, his voice rich with vi. "Enemies who hate us simply for existing. The Orks—creatures who her uand reason nor respect peace. They see reatness and envy it; they witness our strength and fear it. Do not be deceived, my children: their hatred for us will never end, because our brilliashihe darkness of their savage hearts!"

  As he spoke, the colossal holographic ss fnking the stage shifted to dispy vivid images from the ret battles at Half Wall. Mechs cshed with t Titans, ser fire streaking across the battlefield. In one dramatic se, a Mech maniputed gravity itself to crush several Titans, demonstrating the formidable might of the Empire's teology.

  The crowd erupted in a thunderous roar of approval, their fervor palpable. But the Emperor raised a sileng hand, and the cheers subsided instantly. His expression hardened, and his eyes narrowed with steely resolve.

  "But there is another enemy," he decred, his tone dropping to a grave seriousness. "More insidious, more dangerous, because it does not e from outside—it is among us. Traitors, cowards, vermin who pce their petty is above the greater good of the Empire! They trade lory for empty promises and undermine our unity with their doubts and lies. Show no mercy to these individuals. They are a blight; like any disease, they must be eradicated!"

  The holographic images shifted again. Gohe ses of heroic battles against the Orks. Instead, footage pyed of flicts erupting around Olympus—Mechs with distinctive purple markings engaging in fierbat against Encedus forces. The three Imperial Mechs moved with uny coordination, repelling attackers with almost chraphed precision.

  The Emperor paused, allowing his words to sink deep into the minds of his subjects. He drew a measured breath before tinuing. "The Empire ot tolerate division! We must be an unbreakable wall, aernal fme that no wind extinguish. For humanity, for the survival of our people, for the greathat runs in our blood!"

  He cluded his speech with an imposiure, raising his ched fist toward the heavens. The crowd responded in unison, their voices a resounding chorus pledging fidelity to the Emperor and the Empire. The ts echoed through Earth and across tless worlds via the broadcasts.

  Suddenly, the images on the ss transformed once more. In bold red letters, the words "Enemies of the Empire" bzed across the dispys.

  The first image appeared: Mordred, his face stoid unyielding, along with the Encedus fg. The sed image showed an Ork seated upon a throne, exuding a menag aura. But the third image left Oliver utterly stu icture of himself in his Green Ranger armor.

  GCLopes