The tension lingered, settling into the cracks of the ruined street and the hollowed buildings like dust that refused to be swept away. Despite the destitute knowledge that he had just learnt, Jaune couldn't help but ask Weiss about how the intricacies of Centurion technology worked. It was just hard to believe that dead bodies could be transford into machines and brought into the dream realm.
This world had rules, after all. If rules could just easily be broken then why bother having rules at all.
Weiss shook her head and said that she didn't understand the technology in its entirety. She wasn't a researcher, after all. But still, she tried to explain what she could.
"Think of Centurions as equipnt like your swords or your runic pistols. Yet... they aren't like normal LUCID equipnt," she said. "Most of the firearms that field operatives use are runic hot weapons. They're built in a way where they're all able to be powered by aura. The user feeds their own aura into a specially constructed matrix, and the weapon translates that intent into a function. Bullets, rockets etc."
Jaune nodded. He had seen it plenty of tis.
"But centurions don't exactly rely on an operator."
Blake glanced at her. "Then what do they draw from."
"Supposedly, inside of them exists a type of special aura battery," Weiss replied. "Like how our LUCID bases function, these batteries ca be recharged. In addition to that, they are inbuilt with special matrices which are integrated and layered through their bodies."
Jaune frowned. "So they're basically walking runic devices."
Weiss hesitated. "Yes, but.... more than that. They're closer to weapons that look humanoid than machines that look human. While they might be made from awakened remains, they're not... alive."
That phrasing made Jaune uneasy, but he understood the logic anyhow.
"And that's why electricity doesn't matter,"
"Yes,"
They were not machines pretending to be alive. They were weapons pretending to be soldiers.
Before he could ask more, the air shifted.
The Nightmare Zone ahead of them convulsed, black mist folding inward as if inhaling itself. The red motes flickered wildly, then dimd. The oppressive pressure that had pressed against Jaune's senses vanished all at once, leaving behind a hollow quiet.
A figure stepped out of the dissipating darkness.
Winter Schnee erged from the remnants of the zone, pristine despite the chaos she had passed through. The mist unraveled around her boots and evaporated into nothing. Her posture was composed, shoulders squared, expression calm in the way only soone deeply accustod to danger could manage.
She stopped when she noticed the atmosphere, then her attention shifted to her right where the centurion was. Winter's brows lifted slightly, seeing it there.
The centurion stood there, motionless, its chanical legs folded neatly beneath it. Suddenly, Its head rotated towards Winter and its optics flared briefly.
"Nightmare Zone cleared. Patrol route continuing. Designation confird. Special Operative Schnee. Keep up the good fight, humanity."
Then it turned away.
The chanical legs unfolded with smooth precision as it resud its patrol, moving down the ruined street with asured, purposeful steps until it disappeared between shattered buildings.
Winter watched it go.
For a mont, she said nothing. Then she exhaled quietly and gestured with one hand.
"Co," she said. "Let's move."
They followed her without question.
As they walked, Weiss moved up beside her sister. "Winter."
"Yes?"
"Did father receive permission to field test the centurions?"
Winter nodded once. "He did, recently, in fact."
"That's... troubleso."
"Maybe so."
Winter glanced back briefly at Jaune and Blake walking behind them. "How long was it stationed at the zone."
"At least seven minutes," Weiss replied.
"Any issues?" Winter asked. "Performance anomalies, delays or hesitation?"
"No," Weiss said. "It neutralized the Beringels instantly and maintained periter discipline. It did not interfere with us."
Winter inclined her head. "Good."
They continued for several steps before Winter slowed her pace. Sothing in her expression shifted. Sothing mysterious and harder to na.
She spoke without looking back.
"Weiss," she said, "did you tell them about what the Centurions are?"
Weiss nodded. "As much as I could."
Winter's steps slowed further. Then she stopped entirely.
Jaune and Blake halted with her.
The ruined city stretched around them, empty and silent, as if the Dream Realm itself were listening.
Winter turned.
Her gaze moved from Blake to Jaune, assessing, steady, unflinching.
"Well, since you've learned what centurions are," she said. "Or at least what they represent, what do you think about them?"
Jaune t her eyes then looked away. "I'm not sure. It's just hard to believe that it was once a living breathing human. I know cybernetic augntations are a thing, but... to use human remains as... robots? It just seems like a line that shouldn't have been crossed."
"Perhaps so. However, LUCID is currently using every ans at our disposal to combat threats.
Blake's arms were crossed, posture rigid. "Even if they break ethical guidelines?"
Winter studied her, seemingly staring into her very soul. Then she spoke again.
"It's not the first ti, LUCID had broken Ethics. Laws, guidelines—these are all suggestions to us. At this point in ti, you should have already been told about what had occurred in the city of Belmont."
She gestured to Jaune.
"Your friend over here, witnessed the situation firsthand. Tell , do you think what Sleepless and Dragon gang did was fair? Do you think that if that scenario happens again, no one is going to die?"
The question hung in the air.
Blake could not answer. Jaune, felt her emotions grow more and more volatile through his weakness sense, before it finally crested and seed to calm down.
Finally, she replied. "No. If it happens again, many people are going to die."
Winter nodded, but her eyes softened. "Indeed. Many people are going to die. The existence of the Sleeper is a bomb that only waiting to go off. LUCID as a whole needs to grow stronger. While... the existences of Centurions are... questionable, they are... perhaps a necessary evil.
Jaune thought back to the centurion's voice.
Calm, dutiful, final.
He thought of the Beringels collapsing without a fight. He thought of families burying bodies that were not real.
"Efficiency above all else," Jaune said with a sigh,
Winter did not react.
"They're effective," he continued. "And they'll save lives. Probably a lot of them."
Blake's fingers twitched.
"But," Jaune said, "they make sothing else expendable."
Winter's eyes sharpened slightly. "Explain."
"They'll make death reusable," Jaune said. "They turn loss into a resource."
Silence followed.
Winter nodded slowly. "And that is precisely why they exist."
Blake's eyes narrowed. "That doesn't make it right."
"No," Winter said. "It doesn't."
Weiss looked between them, tension written plainly across her features.
"But this war doesn't care about right," Winter continued. "Sleepless doesn't care about ethics. Nightmare Zones don't pause for debates."
She looked back toward the direction the centurion had gone.
"These are tools," she said. "Terrible ones sure, but necessary."
Jaune exhaled. "That's what everyone says before sothing gets out of hand."
Winter t his gaze. There was no anger there. Only understanding.
"That's why they're being monitored," she said. "Field tests exist for a reason."
She turned away and resud walking.
"For now," Winter said quietly, "we use what we have."
The return path felt longer than it should have.
The four of them moved through the dilapidated streets of Atlas Dream City in silence, the aftermath of conversation lingering like the sll of a fart that refused to dissipate.
Shitty.
The patrol route had been completed, threats neutralized, zones cleared or marked. On paper, it was a clean mission.
Yet none of it sat right.
Jaune walked slightly behind the sisters, Blake keeping pace beside him. The broken city gradually gave way to familiar geotry as the LUCID base ca into view. Tall reinforced structures rose from the ground like bones forced through concrete, sleek and utilitarian even in the Dream Realm. Seeing the transition of a LUCID amidst the dream was always strange. One mont, decaying streets and dilapidated buildings, the next, precision, order, and controlled light.
As they passed through the outer periter, the turrets ca into view.
They were massive, angular constructs mounted along reinforced walls and elevated platforms. Their barrels tracked silently as operatives passed, runic light faintly pulsing along channels. They were a quiet promise of overwhelming response should anything go wrong.
Awakened operatives moved through the area with purpose. So walked alone. Others in small squads. Their rune fras glimred subtly as they passed, colors and designs unique to each individual. A few paused when they noticed Winter, offering salutes or nods of respect before continuing on their way.
Then Jaune saw them.
Ten figures stood in formation near one of the open inspection platforms. They were unmistakable even at a distance.
Centurions.
Unlike the lone sentinel from earlier, these ones were uniform. Their spiderlike chanical legs were folded neatly beneath them, each limb locked in place with perfect symtry. Their torsos were armored more heavily, layered plating reinforced with glowing runic lines that pulsed in slow, synchronized rhythms.
What struck Jaune most was their heads.
Gone were the unsettling humanlike features he had seen before. Each centurion wore a helt now. Sleek, angular, fully enclosing. Visors glowed faintly beneath smooth plating, giving no hint of what lay beneath.
Or who.
Around them moved several non awakened personnel. Researchers and technicians by the look of them, dressed in standard Atlas research uniforms. Holographic panels hovered in the air as they adjusted settings, checked readings, and exchanged quiet words. Their movents were careful, deliberate, as if aware they were standing beside sothing that could erase them without effort.
Awakened operatives passed nearby as well. So slowed, curiosity plain on their faces. Others stopped outright, arms crossed, eyes locked on the centurions. Jaune caught fragnts of conversation as they passed.
So impressed, so uneasy and so openly disturbed.
At the center of it all stood General Ironwood.
He was exactly as Jaune rembered him. Tall, broad shouldered, posture rigid even at rest. His presence anchored the space around him, drawing attention without demanding it. He stood with hands clasped behind his back, gaze moving thodically from one centurion to the next as if inspecting soldiers before deploynt.
Beside him was soone Jaune did not expect to see.
A man in a wheelchair.
Jaune slowed unconsciously, eyes narrowing.
The wheelchair itself was advanced, far beyond anything mundane. Sleek tal framing and subtle faint energy fields that humd quietly beneath the seat. Even so, the fact remained.
A wheelchair.
Here.
In LUCID.
In Atlas.
Jaune frowned. A healing rune should have fixed almost any injury. Even many grievous ones such as loss of limbs and other such dismbernts. He had seen people walk again after injuries that should have ended their careers. To see soone confined like that here felt… very weird.
Winter halted first.
She stepped forward crisply, boots striking the reinforced ground as she approached Ironwood. Weiss followed imdiately, posture straightening, expression carefully neutral. Blake and Jaune stopped a few steps back.
Winter saluted.
"General," she said. "Patrol completed. Nightmare Zone neutralized. No casualties."
Ironwood turned to face her, returning the salute with practiced precision. His gaze flicked briefly toward Weiss, then to Blake and Jaune before settling back on Winter.
"Good work," he said evenly. "Anything unusual?"
Winter hesitated for only a fraction of a second. "We encountered a centurion unit deployed near the patrol route. Performance appeared optimal."
Ironwood nodded once. "Noted."
The man in the wheelchair shifted slightly beside him, hands resting on the armrests. His eyes were sharp, curious, watching the centurions with sothing close to reverence.
Weiss leaned slightly toward Jaune and Blake, lowering her voice.
"The man in the wheelchair," she whispered, "his na is Pietro Pollendina."
Jaune glanced at her. "Who is he?"
"One of the two leading researchers behind the centurion project," Weiss replied quietly.
Jaune looked back at Pietro, then at the centurions. Understanding clicked into place, followed imdiately by more questions.
"Why is he in a wheelchair?" Jaune asked softly.
Weiss frowned. "I don't know. I've never really asked why nor have I been told the reason."
Blake studied Pietro intently. There was sothing in her eyes, a quiet assessnt, as if she were trying to see past the man and into the choices he had made.
Winter finished her report and stepped back. Ironwood gave a final nod.
"You are dismissed," he said. "You may exit the Dream Realm at your discretion."
Winter returned to the group. "That concludes your assignnt for today," she said. "You are free to leave."
She paused, then added more quietly, "Get so rest."
The three of them gave a short acknowledgnt.
Weiss lingered for a mont, eyes drifting back toward the centurions and her father's distant silhouette in her mind. Then she turned away.
Ironwood and Pietro continued their discussion, unaware or unconcerned with the looks they were drawing.
Jaune felt a strange chill as saw the centurions standing motionless, silent and perfect. Tools awaiting orders, weapons waiting for war.
He shook those thoughts out of his head and intoned the system to exit the dream realm.
The world folded inward.
When he woke, the first thing he saw was the ceiling of the LUCID pod.
White and smooth.
Jaune did not move imdiately.
He lay there, staring up, breathing slowly as the weight of the day pressed down on him. Centurions. Corpses turned into weapons. Ethical lines crossed in the na of survival. A war that demanded sacrifices from the living and the dead alike.
Efficiency above all else.
He closed his eyes briefly, then opened them again.
A long sigh escaped his chest.
The pod hissed softly, waiting for him to rise.
Jaune stayed still just a little longer, letting the silence speak before he finally pushed himself up, carrying the weight of knowledge that would not leave him anyti soon.
.
.
AN: Advanced chapters are available on patreon
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