General Carrick strode into the dining hall, his hawk-like eyes sweeping the chaos once before locking onto the bewildered, pudgy man in an army lieutenant’s uniform.
“A fine lieutenant you are,” he said, his voice quiet but as cold as ice, carrying the weight of absolute authority. “You’ve really done the Federal Army proud.”
Jack froze. He could face anyone else, but this was a general—a living, breathing man who could decide his fate on a whim, send him to any meat grinder of a battlefield without a second thought.
This was a natural predator.
The bravado he’d built up from knocking out the hotel security guard collapsed instantly, leaving behind the same trembling coward who’d always wilted before authority.
He opened his mouth to explain, but the general didn’t even glance at him again. He simply waved to the guards behind him. “Lock him up. Day’s over. Send him straight to the MPs for severe punishment.”
As the guards stepped forward, two sharp, furious voices rang out in unison.
“Don’t you dare!”
Nya and Meadow pushed through the onlookers like a pair of furious lionesses, planting themselves firmly between Jack and the approaching soldiers.
Jack’s brain nearly short-circuited. These two women were actually shouting at a general.
And it didn’t stop there.
From all corners of the dining hall, more figures emerged—ragged, wounded, hollow-eyed, yet walking with unshakable purpose. They said nothing, simply forming up one by one in front of Jack, until a wall of scarred, battered bodies stood between him and the general’s men.
Two hundred and seventy Federal soldiers, every one of them having clawed their way out of hell, not a single one missing.
Reporter’s POV
A journalist from The Federal Daily Star, hidden among the guests, trembled with excitement. His micro-camera captured every second of it, the lens auto-adjusting to stabilize against his shaking hands. His mind was already racing to craft tomorrow’s headline: “General’s Arrogance, Hero’s Humiliation: Scandal Erupts at the Smai Grand!”
Then, Colonel Sterling emerged from the crowd. Before addressing the furious general, he turned to the pudgy lieutenant cowering behind him and, to everyone’s astonishment, snapped off a crisp, perfect salute.
Reporter’s POV
Flashbulbs from data-slates and embedded ocular cams exploded, immortalizing the moment—a battle-worn colonel saluting an unknown lieutenant. The reporter’s heart pounded like a drum. Perhaps the headline would need a rewrite.
Only then did Sterling turn back to face the fully armed general, his voice calm but unyielding.
“Whatever mistake he’s made, we share his burden.”
The room erupted in shock, confusion, and disbelief. Carrick’s face was unreadable, but the hotel owner, Joseph Vance, looked like he’d just swallowed a live grenade.
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Carrick’s eyes narrowed. Something wasn’t right here. He was about to speak when his gaze shifted past Sterling’s shoulder, catching a small, peeking head among the soldiers.
His battle-hardened face twisted into a mix of exasperation and disbelief.
“Nova Carter!” he barked. “Get over here!”
Nova, who had been glued to Jack’s back, pressed herself even closer when she heard the voice. The heat of her body against him sent an involuntary shiver up Jack’s spine.
She’d been trying to stay hidden, but now she was caught. With a reluctant shuffle, head down, she stepped out. “…Dad,” she murmured, barely louder than a mosquito.
Reporter’s POV
Across the room, Julian Vance and his cronies felt like their skulls had just detonated. The mysterious beauty they’d insulted? The general’s daughter. And the pudgy lieutenant? Someone, every Federal hero in the room was willing to shield.
Carrick pinched the bridge of his nose. Pointing at Jack and Sterling, he said wearily, “You all owe me an explanation.” He turned, leading his daughter toward a quieter corner of the hall.
Jack glanced at Sterling and the soldiers. “Thanks.”
Sterling smiled faintly. “It’s an honor to do something for you. Without you, none of us would be here.”
Reporter’s POV
The reporters heard every word. A quick-thinking one put the pieces together—the unnamed company commander who refused to give his name was, in fact, this very lieutenant.
The journalist’s hands shook as he erased his old drafts and typed a brand-new Pulitzer-bait headline: “Exclusive: The Unnamed Hero Revealed! General Carrick’s Daughter’s Mysterious Boyfriend?!”
The room’s mood shifted. Even Joseph Vance’s wastrel son, Julian, seemed to realize the gravity of his mistake. Joseph slapped him hard across the face.
“You little bastard! Do you see what you’ve done?!”
To everyone’s surprise, Julian slapped himself back. “Dad, it’s my fault. I’m sorry.”
For all his spoiled arrogance, he was still a Federal youth with some blood in his veins. The shame of insulting a real hero burned enough to make him strike himself again, eyes full of regret.
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Joseph Vance looked from his battered son to the table of grim-faced heroes, realizing that for all his boy’s faults, at least he’d gotten one thing right—he’d picked the right men to admire.
But the Smai Grand Hotel was finished. The banquet he’d fought to host, meant to wash away the hotel’s wartime reputation for obscene luxury, had turned into a PR catastrophe.
Then, to everyone’s surprise, General Carrick made his move.
After listening to Sterling, Jack, and Nova give a brief account of the incident, the general understood. He shot his daughter a scathing glare, then gave the pudgy legend dating her a look like he’d discovered a new alien species.
He summoned his guards, issuing a string of cold, clipped orders.
“Due to the involvement of Federal military secrets, confiscate all journalists’ recording equipment immediately. Strictly seal all information. Everyone here will register their identity. Any leak will be prosecuted by a military tribunal.”
The guards saluted and moved out. The guests felt the temperature drop—the general’s voice carried the same weight as orbital firepower.
Carrick added, “Wait. Tell Mr. Vance to resume the banquet and invite the reporters and guests back. In a few minutes, they may dine with the heroes of the Federation.”
Jack was impressed. No wonder Carrick was a general, and he was just a lieutenant. In a few sentences, the man had seized control of the narrative, offered everyone a face-saving way out, and projected the same battlefield command presence even in a hotel dining room.
Joseph Vance was almost ready to kneel in gratitude.
Reporter’s POV
The journalists were the most furious, especially one from The Federal Daily Star who had been crafting a Pulitzer-winning headline minutes earlier. Now he could only watch in despair as a guard politely but firmly took the datapad from him, containing his career-defining scoop. His heart shattered.
The banquet resumed, the Smai Grand pouring its soul into a lavish buffet. The holo-light shimmered on crystal, but the reporters’ eyes were dull, their dreams confiscated along with their recorders.
Across the hall, Meadow, Nova, and Nya stood together, whispering—a sight both beautiful and dangerous.
Jack felt like he was in the middle of an emotional minefield.
Nya, seeing her genius friend Nova caught in a storm of awkwardness thanks to this pudgy man and her father’s sudden arrival, acted fast. She seized Nova’s hand, ignoring Jack entirely.
“Come on, Nova. I hear the desserts are good here.” With a look that said you’re on your own, she whisked Nova away.
Meadow, the fragile survivor just back from hell, saw Jack interacting with the mysterious and intimidating Nova and felt a surge of insecurity. She didn’t speak—just clutched his arm and pinched his side with a desperate, PTSD-fueled grip that wasn’t playful at all. It was a wordless plea: You’re still here, right? You won’t abandon me, too?
Jack grimaced in pain, thinking, God, spare me! One queen who might draw a gun, two unstable trauma survivors I’ve slept with, and a father-in-law who could kill me—this is worse than faking death in Tartarus Legion’s trenches!
Around them, onlookers whispered in awe. “Man saves groups of people, seduces groups of women. Now that’s a hero.”
Carrick’s head throbbed as he watched his daughter circle the hall, glancing back at the pudgy man being clung to by another woman.
He picked his moment, strode forward, and dragged Jack into the garden.
“Why are you chasing my daughter?”
“I wasn’t… I was chasing the other one,” Jack stammered, hands flailing.
“Bullshit! I saw you! You didn’t just chase her—you chased her around!” Carrick was ready to condemn him on the spot.
Jack blinked, realizing this was unwinnable. “If you say so, sir… then I guess I was.”
Carrick stared at him, then deflated. With this kind of man, he’d be dead from frustration before he ever got the truth.
