Chapter 41: Unyielding Kindness
POV: Leon
*"What!?"*
I exclaimed, my voice echoing off the steel walls as I stared wide-eyed at Uncle Zack. Mr. Jacob's voice followed, heavy with gravity.
"Are you certain the report is one hundred percent accurate?"
His tone carried the weight of a Lord Militant realizing the scale of the threat before him.
"Sigh... yes," Uncle Zack replied grimly, "and they continue to grow with each passing day."
The atmosphere in the command chamber dimmed like the flickering lumen-strips above us. Silence fell as we processed the grim reality until Mr. Jacob exhaled sharply and gestured for Zack to resume his seat.
"Alright, Zack. What do the vox-intercepts from the southern front reveal about their movements?"
At the question, Uncle Zack unrolled a worn map of the middle Hive sector upon the strategium table. Three markers glowed ominously in crimson as he indicated a massive red sigil at the southern quadrant.
"From reconnaissance logs," he began, "the six major bandit factions have yet to fully unify. They are currently preoccupied with absorbing lesser warbands scattered across their territories. The center of the southern wastes is their likely convergence point—expect their numbers to swell once they consolidate."
He motioned to key points marked in ink and data glyphs, indicating factional territories. Mr. Jacob gave a curt nod.
"Commander Frag's company is currently deployed to the southern perimeters, executing purge operations on isolated groups," Zack continued. "However, two of the factions have become aware of his presence. They've begun relentless harrying of his forward operating base—supply reserves are dwindling rapidly."
Sir Zacharian, quiet until now, finally spoke, his voice lined with the calm assurance of an adept logistician.
"I'll oversee their resupply. Our manufactorums have stabilized enough to begin a secure chain of provisions to Frag's position."
Mr. Jacob gave a satisfied nod but then turned grim once more.
"Supplies we can provide. But manpower… that's our failing. Those heretic scum outnumber us tenfold. We cannot hold with our current forces."
I raised my hand, determination brimming in my chest.
"Leave it to me," I declared. "Our warriors need time—I can buy them that time."
Before I could continue, Mr. Jacob's hand slammed down upon the table with a force that shattered it in half. Splinters and shards of ceramite scattered as Zack and Zacharian recoiled instinctively. Jacob's gaze locked onto mine, blazing with fury and strength that chilled me.
"NO! I *forbid* you from throwing yourself into the heart of that corruption!" he roared. "You have earned your place on the front, yes—but not *inside* the festering den of those degenerates!"
His fury was palpable. The man I had always respected now radiated the unyielding might of a warlord. Still, anger flared within me, rising like fire in my veins.
"What do you mean, no!?" I barked back. "You heard Uncle Zack! Their numbers will crush us—we *need* time, and I can *give* you that time!"
"I said NO!" Jacob thundered. "This is the last time you'll endanger yourself without reason! I saw what happened during your confrontation with that daemonspawn! You were on death's doorstep. If not for the Emperor's divine grace, you would've perished. I won't let you risk your life again!"
He stood tall now—his form emanating a power I had never truly perceived until now. My defiance wavered as I felt his intensity, but confusion set in at his words.
"What do you mean…? How do you *know*? Only I can commune with the Emperor. How did *you* know what happened?"
He sighed then, slowly walking toward me. He placed a firm hand on my shoulder.
"The Emperor sent me a vision—your father's voice guided it. Leon, you are more than a warrior. You are *chosen*. The Emperor has need of you. I will not gamble your life away—not for your father's sake, and not for His."
His words sparked something raw and primal inside me. My hand gripped his with force—but it was like squeezing a rock. He didn't flinch. His eyes narrowed, steady and resolute.
"Don't you *dare* speak of him," I growled. "He taught me that as long as I draw breath, I *must act*—that if I have the strength, then I *must use it* to protect those who cannot. That is my path. *My choice.*"
I shoved his hand away and stormed out of the chamber, the door slamming shut behind me as he called out my name.
"Leon!"
---
**POV: Mr. Jacob**
I stared at the slammed door, jaw clenched in frustration. With a deep sigh, I ran a hand through my hair as Zack and Zacharian flanked me once more.
"You *do* know you could've forced him to comply," Zack said quietly. "Especially with the Emperor's power now burning through your veins."
I shook my head, eyes fixed on the fractured remains of the table.
"I *could*," I admitted, "but it would only harden his will. He'd resist all the more. Damn it, Vargas… your son's as stubborn as you."
Zacharian chuckled lightly, arms crossed.
"Well, that's youth for you—zealous and brimming with fire. Sigh… shall we continue the briefing?"
I turned toward the door leading to my private command sanctum and gave a short laugh.
"Well then, let's reconvene in my office. The table's seen better days."
They both nodded, and together, we left the shattered chamber behind.