Chapter 54 | Ruinari Program

The Ruinari Program?

Leon blinked. He'd never heard of it before.

"It's classified," the Warcenturion said, catching the confusion on his face. "It falls directly under the command of the Imperial Covenant Imperators. It bypasses the standard Army chain of command entirely. On paper, you'll be assigned to the Obsidian Order. Once you graduate from Command Track, you'll receive a cavora within the Order…but every soldier in it will be part of the Program."

Leon's thoughts spiraled. He didn't even know what the Obsidian Order was. Still, he went with the question that burned the most.

"Why me? I came from the Lower Levels. There are others who'd trained their whole lives—"

The Warcenturion raised a hand.

"Exactly. You're not bound to any of the old Fulgari bloodlines. That makes you... clean. Unclaimed. I can't say more until you've earned the proper clearance."

Leon nodded. It was too much, too fast, his mind a storm of questions, none of which had clear answers.

"Can I think about it?" he asked, hesitant, unsure if the question even made sense now.

"No," the Warcenturion replied, voice lowering. "You signed the contract. You're Imperial Covenant property now."

The Warcenturion paused to let it sink in before continuing.

"That said, it'll benefit you." He tapped at his datapad, pulling up Leon's file. "Your Aether Flow…your Method. It's a complex one. Dangerous. The Ruinari Program has the resources to help you use it without killing yourself."

Leon's heart kicked into a faster rhythm. His Method's combat mode had been locked down, deemed unstable. But if he could use it—fully use it—his odds of surviving whatever lay ahead would change dramatically.

But was it worth it?

He opened his mouth, about to ask if there was anything else, any path other than this shadowy program the Warcenturion wasn't telling him everything about.

"You're also in hot water," the Warcenturion said, cutting him off.

He tapped his datapad, and an aerial feed flickered to life above the table.

Leon's breath hitched. It was the scene he'd tried to bury in the back of his mind, to forget. But now it played out before him, frame by brutal frame.

His chest tightened. Bile rose in his throat, but he forced it down. He was in front of the Warcenturion. He couldn't lose control.

Sweat prickled his skin. His thoughts spiraled.

Am I getting arrested? Court martialed?

The Warcenturion's voice snapped him out of it.

"There were... incidents during the final assessment. We expect them. Even your friend Nyra killed a recruit."

WHAT!? Leon's mind went numb. Nyra?

She had always seemed different. She was different. An Ordari, not like the cold-blooded Fulgaris from the upper levels.

The Warcenturion continued, voice darkening.

"But Malric... he's a problem. Or rather, his family is. Old military blood. His father's a High-Marshal. Ravi's family is under Malric's father."

Leon felt a noose tightening around his neck.

"You have no backing," the Warcenturion said plainly. "And the training dravora won't cover for a prior Nullari if a High-Marshal demands justice."

Leon swallowed hard. His next words came out dry.

"And the program... will protect me?"

"Now you're getting it. The program answers directly to the Imperators," the Warcenturion said. "Not even a Domain Archon can touch it."

Leon slumped, the fight draining from his body. He hadn't asked for any of this. All he wanted was to clear his debt. Now he was trapped in something far beyond his understanding.

"Alright," the Warcenturion said briskly. "I don't have all day. You can choose a few people for your cavora. After vetting, they'll serve under your command. The rest will be chosen by us. Submit their names through the encrypted channel we'll provide after this meeting."

Leon rose and saluted. The Warcenturion offered only a curt nod.

As Leon turned to leave, the Warcenturion spoke again, one last warning.

"Oh, and in case you're as reckless as you are impulsive—don't breathe a word about the Program. Not to anyone outside of it. The Obsidian Order and your cavora? That's public record now, filed into your profile. But the Ruinari? It doesn't exist. Not outside of this room."

The door slid open behind him, and the Warcenturion gave a dismissive wave, shooing him away.

Leon made his way back to his room, his mind still going over everything the Warcenturion had said.

"What did the Warcenturion say?" Leon barely had a foot inside before both Mason and Nyra blocked his way, practically cornering him.

"He said I'm going into Command Track," his voice a little flat. "And... I've already been assigned to the Obsidian Order."

Their reactions were instant. Wide eyes, mouths open like they'd just seen a ghost.

Leon blinked. "What? Is that bad? What is the Obsidian Order, anyway?"

"You don't know?" Mason gawked, voice rising in disbelief. "How can you not—"

Smack.

Nyra swatted the back of Mason's head without warning.

"Did you forget?" she said, glancing back at Leon. "Nullari."

She stepped closer and lowered her voice.

"The Obsidian Order is the elite of the elite. Top-tier Fulgaris. They wear the Black Armor, answer directly to high command, and hold more authority than most officers their rank."

Leon nodded, her words barely registering. The Warcenturion's voice echoed in his mind.

Even your friend Nyra killed a recruit.

He couldn't shake it.

Did she really kill someone? Why didn't she tell me?

"They're like gods to normal soldiers," Mason cut in, his excitement reigniting. "My dad dreamed of getting in! They're li—"

Smack.

Mason clutched the same spot, glaring at Nyra.

"Stop getting too excited," she said sharply.

Leon's eyes drifted to Nyra's raised hand. He imagined blood dripping from her fingertips, slowly pooling on the floor.

He looked down at his own hands and saw the same thing.

"Hey," Nyra's voice softened. "Are you okay?"

Leon looked up and saw Mason with his head down, having lost the bickering as usual.

"Huh? Yeah. Just... tired. A lot to process."

Without a word, Nyra took his right hand and with a gentle tug, pulled him further into the room.

Leon followed, staring at their joined hands, imagining the blood on both of them, mingling together.

She led him to his bed, let go, then placed her hands on his shoulders and guided him down until he was seated.

Leon was still lost in his thoughts. He didn't know what Mason and Nyra were doing and just continued to look at his hand that Nyra had let go.

It felt empty. Cold.

Then, he came to a conclusion.

Did it matter if she had blood on her hands?

Did it matter if she was hiding it and didn't tell him?

No.

He found his answer.

She'd always been there for him. She never treated him like the others. She gave him warmth when no one else did.

That was what mattered.

When he looked up, both of them were still there, watching him silently. Close enough to support him, but far enough to let him breathe.

"Should we leave you alone?" Mason asked, unusually soft-spoken.

"No," Leon said quietly. "I was just thinking how to tell you the news."

He took a breath, pushed the lingering doubt aside, and locked it away. These two—Mason and Nyra—were the best things to happen to him. Better than any family he had known.

"News? What news?" Nyra's brows drew closer together.

Leon grinned, enjoying the suspense a little too much.

Mason, however, couldn't take it. He grabbed Leon by the shoulders and shook him.

"WHAT. NEWS?!"

Smack.

Nyra's palm landed again. Mason released Leon and sulked away.

"Will you stop doing that?" Nyra glared at Mason, who let go of Leon and stepped back. "Just spill it Leon before this doofus shakes us all into oblivion."

Leon chuckled, then gave them a teasing glance.

"Well... I... with the mighty power granted by the Warcenturion—"

Smack.

This time, it was Leon who winced and grabbed his head.

"Get on with it," Nyra growled, her patience thinning.

Leon caught Mason snickering behind her. He narrowed his eyes.

"If you keep laughing, I won't bring you into the Obsidian Order with me."

Mason froze. "Wait—what?"

"You heard me," Leon said smugly, arms crossed. "The Warcenturion said I could choose a few people for my cavora."

Mason stared with a blank face. "I—I'm gonna be in the Obsidian Order?!"

Leon gave a slow nod.

For a moment, Mason was speechless. Then it hit him all at once; from disbelief to utter excitement, laughing like a maniac and waving his arms randomly in the air.

Nyra, meanwhile, remained still. Her expression unreadable, eyes calm.

Her neutral face she had when she hid her emotions.

Leon's grin faded.

"Nyra? Is something wrong? Do you not want to come?"

"Nothing is wrong. I will follow you as long as I am able," she answered with a calm tone.

"I gotta tell my dad!" Mason shouted, grabbing Leon again in a celebratory hug-shake hybrid. "Thank you! Thank you! You can have my dessert tonight—but just half of it!"

Leon laughed, shaking his head.

At the corner of his eyes, he saw Nyra move off to the side, pulling out the chair by the desk, sitting down and crossing one leg over the other.

Mason plopped onto the floor and pulled out his datapad after releasing him, already scouring it for anything and everything about the Obsidian Order.

Leon let himself exhale, and a smile crept onto his face.

Four months ago, he'd been a Nullari kid scraping by in the Lower Levels. Then became a Fulgari. Now this.

But the best thing he'd gained? These two, sitting with him now.

He glanced at Nyra. She was already watching him. Her expression was calm, but something flickered behind her eyes.

He smiled bigger and for a brief moment, her composed mask cracked.

One brow raised, and a faint smile tugged at her lips. Her cheeks colored slightly as she turned her head, pretending to adjust the chair.

And in that simple moment, Leon felt something stir—warmth, certainty, something real.