After hours outside the armory.
Smoke swallowed the battlefield.
What once looked like a coordinated assault had turned into scattered survival.
Dozens of soldier had hypothermia.
The armory facility still stood—burning, damaged… but refusing to fall.
And from its gates—
More heavy enemies continued to emerge.
"NEXARION UNITS—FALL BACK AND TREAT THE WOUNDED!"
The order rang out across the comms.
Unlike the others.
The soldiers wearing Nexarion insignia weren't pushing forward.
They were pulling people back.
Dragging the injured.
Stabilizing the dying.
Because Nexarion wasn't built for war.
They were built to save lives.
They were the first to respond to Stellar's outbreak.
And now—
They were trapped in it.
"Medic! Over here!"
Akane turned immediately.
Instinct.
Not combat—
But something else.
He rushed toward a fallen soldier, dropping to his knees beside him.
Blood soaked through the man's armor.
His breathing was shallow.
"…Stay with me," Akane muttered.
His hands moving quickly—
As if he had done it before.
He applied pressure.
Injected stabilizers.
Adjusted the armor seals.
Why do I know how to do this…?
The soldier coughed—
Then stabilized.
"…You… you're a Nexarion soldier, right…?" the man asked weakly.
Akane paused.
"…I… guess so."
Gunfire erupted nearby.
Akane flinched.
A group of soldiers rushed past him toward the front.
Weapons ready.
Aggressive.
He looked down at his hands again.
Still shaking.
I'm not like them…
"MEDICS, MOVE BACK!"
"THE LINE'S COLLAPSING AGAIN!"
Akane grabbed the injured soldier and pulled him toward cover.
Step by step.
Slow.
Heavy.
An explosion hit nearby—
Throwing debris across the ground.
Akane shielded the wounded soldier.
Taking the hit.
"…Tch—!"
Pain shot through his shoulder.
Powerlessness
Another group went down.
Farther ahead.
Akane looked up.
They needed help.
His grip tightened.
That power…
If I had it…
Forcing It
He closed his eyes.
Focused.
That feeling…
His heartbeat increased.
His breathing sharpened.
Nothing....
"…Come on…" he whispered.
Gunfire grew louder.
Closer.
Still nothing.
Reality Hits Hard
"I can't… use it…"
For the first time—
He admitted it.
That power wasn't something he could call.
Not something he understood.
And right now—
It wasn't there.
Back to Reality
"AKANE!"
A soldier shouted at him.
"MOVE! THEY'RE PUSHING THROUGH!"
Akane snapped back.
An armored unit broke through the line.
Heading straight toward the wounded.
"…No…"
A untrained Medic Forced to Fight in a pointless war against their faction.
Akane stood up.
Slowly.
He raised his weapon.
Hands still shaking.
I'm not a fighter…
The unit advanced.
But I can't just watch…
He fired.
The shots hit—
But barely did anything.
The unit didn't stop.
It raised its weapon.
The injured soldier behind him tried to crawl away—
Too slow.
Then... Why could I do it earlier....
Akane's breathing broke.
I can't stop it…
For a moment—
He froze.
Then—
He stepped forward.
Not because he was strong.
But because there was no one else.
He aimed—
Not randomly.
Carefully.
At the same point.
Again.
Again.
Again.
The heavy soldiers armor cracked slightly.
"…There!" he muttered.
"FOCUS FIRE!" another soldier shouted.
Shots followed—
Precise.
The weak point widened against the soldiers.
Then—
The unit collapsed.
Not Strength… Skill
Akane lowered his weapon.
Breathing heavily.
He didn't overpower it.
He just… found a way.
The battlefield was still chaos.
Still collapsing.
Still dangerous.
But for a moment—
He sat still.
Looking at his hands.
I'm not strong…
I'm not meant to fight…
But he still moved.
Still helped.
Still saved.
Across the battlefield—
More enemies approached.
More wounded fell.
More lives at risk.
If cant do this...
"…Then I'll do what I can."
Even if it wasn't enough.
Even if he stayed weak.
Even if that power never came back.
Because someone had to stay behind—
And keep people alive.