February 25th, 2034
"General Ironwood. When you created this division, approved its black budget, and gave it some of the highest clearance levels available, we stayed quiet. We weren't happy about it, but we let you move forward. Thanks to Major General Sion, we've managed to scrape together the bare minimum explanation for what this division even is—but you have to admit, this has crossed the line."
Another voice followed, calm but tinged with skepticism.
"Indeed. For nearly two weeks now, there've been multiple operations across both the Crater and Mantle, all under your authority. Or more accurately, under the authority you've handed off to a child. Setting aside the extreme measures you took just to give him that position in the first place, the Atlas Military has never involved itself this openly in civilian affairs of this type."
Ironwood sat behind his desk, hands clasped in the shadows of his dimmed office. The window tint had already been lowered. The hard-light projection table had risen from the floor, casting a soft blue glow across the room as several holographic screens floated above the desk.
Both Ironwood and Winter, who stood beside him, were bathed in that pale, technological light.
Each screen showed a different individual—some on live feeds, others frozen in still images. Names and ranks were displayed beneath them. All of them were high-ranking Atlas officers with the authority to challenge Ironwood directly.
"It's already bad enough that former criminals were used to staff this... Insurgency. But now it's operating completely unchecked—pulling in local law enforcement, mobilizing military support, and launching operations without any notice. Outside of the civilians being evacuated, no one knows when these actions will happen—not even us—until the very last minute. If word of this ever got out, the Atlas Military would be a joke, and the Council would be breathing down all our necks."
Ironwood stayed silent as each officer voiced their frustrations. Only once they'd finished did he finally speak.
"I understand your concerns," Ironwood said calmly, "but I assure you, everything has been accounted for. I've personally evaluated Asher—his mindset, his judgment. He may be young, but he's a genius, and his mental acuity is well beyond his age. More importantly, every action taken by him or his division has been reported and approved directly by me. It's not as if I've given him free rein. And as for public concern... that's exactly why the division was kept classified to begin with."
Listening to Ironwood, the first person to respond to that statement was Major General Sion. He was the same officer who had previously met with Ironwood to negotiate how much information to disclose about Asher's division. That discussion had managed to cool tensions among the high-ranking officers—at least for a time.
But now, with Asher's recent actions drawing attention, the pressure had returned—and it was boiling over.
"General, I wouldn't exactly say the division is still hidden. Not anymore. With all these deployments, the Insurgents have been thrust into the spotlight. I'll admit, their armor tech is impressive—especially if it really was designed by someone that young—but it's clear they don't follow the same chain of command as the rest of our divisions. And while you may be reviewing their actions afterward, the truth remains: we're dealing with a powerful military force being directed by a teenager who clearly has his own agenda."
A ripple of agreement passed through the other officers. Several nodded, and a few spoke up.
"Exactly. That's the core issue."
"If this division is going to exist, then it should follow the same operational structure as the rest. And if the boy really is as capable as you say, then fine—use his talents. But putting him in charge of how our forces are deployed is crossing a line."
Winter's frown deepened as she listened, her thoughts rising unbidden.
This is absurd.
She stepped forward and cleared her throat.
"Excuse me. If I may?"
Ironwood glanced her way, met her eyes, and gave a small nod. The other officers didn't protest. Winter was well-known across the Atlas Military—not just as a top-tier operative, but as Ironwood's right hand in nearly everything he took on.
There were even rumors that he was grooming her to succeed him as General someday, though no one had confirmed it officially.
Looking over the various screens, Winter spoke clearly.
"I understand your doubts and concerns. But I think we need to take a step back and look at the actual record. The Insurgency units and their division have been active for months now, and from what I've personally seen and verified, their performance has been close to flawless. I don't believe any other unit could've done better under the same conditions. As for Asher—"
She paused briefly, "As a leader, I struggle to find real faults. His character as a person, however... that's a different discussion entirely."
She gave them a moment to absorb her words before continuing.
"Right now, I think we're focusing on the wrong things. You're speaking about Asher and the Insurgents as if they've already made some grave mistake, when the reality is quite the opposite. Their record should be commended, not questioned. Thanks to them, we were able to dismantle a deep-rooted pillar of corruption within Atlas itself—led by none other than the Maron family. And let's not forget, the one who helped enable their influence was Colonel Emeric Flae. A man none of us ever doubted until his betrayal was brought to light."
That last comment silenced much of the dissent. There was no arguing it—Colonel Emeric Flae had, right under their noses, allowed the Maron family to spread their influence unchecked. Reversing the damage had required a complete restructuring of several sectors within the Atlas Military.
Ironwood allowed himself a faint smile, nodding at Winter's statement as she stepped back, having said what needed to be said.
"I believe Winter makes a strong point," Ironwood said.
"This meeting was called because of Asher's recent actions, correct? But the results speak for themselves. Every arrest made was backed by solid evidence. Any chaos that followed was a direct consequence of resistance to those arrests—and was dealt with lawfully, under his authorized jurisdiction."
He pressed a button on his desk, sending a digital file to all the officers on the call. One by one, the expressions of those on-screen shifted as they opened the documentation and reviewed its contents.
"As you can see," Ironwood continued, "even though the division has been operational for less than a year, the results are already measurable. In the Crater, violent and organized crime has dropped by seventy-five percent—and continues to fall. Shootouts, gang operations, smuggling routes—they've all been disrupted or eliminated. As for Mantle, we've achieved a consistent reduction in crime by around forty-five percent."
The message was clear, even without him needing to say it outright: the results were undeniable. Regardless of how unorthodox Asher's methods seemed, or how much skepticism they triggered, they were effective. And they weren't the actions of a reckless child playing soldier—they were targeted, calculated operations yielding tangible progress.
In fact, if Asher were just some inexperienced teenager and yet still managed to succeed where the full force of the Atlas Military and local law enforcement had failed, wouldn't that speak volumes about the current state of Atlas itself?
"Hmm. Well, I suppose denying the results would be disingenuous," Major General Sion admitted.
"Still, I hope you can understand where our concerns come from, General. If you wish to maintain sole, direct oversight of this division, then at the very least, we ask for clearance to review its internal structure. It would go a long way toward easing lingering doubts." Sion's proposal was a considerable step back from what the officers had originally come into this meeting intending to demand.
But the momentum had shifted—Winter's firm defense, Ironwood's evidence, and the hard numbers had undercut much of their resistance. Some officers still looked hesitant, even begrudging, while others were more open to compromise.
But ultimately, everyone—including Ironwood—came to an agreement.
"Very well," Ironwood said.
"We'll discuss the matter of clearance in the near future. However, let me be clear—none of you will have direct authority over this division. That was part of the agreement when it was founded, and I won't jeopardize the partnership I've built with Asher Frostvale over it. If you have any issues or questions about the division, they come directly to me. Understood?"
His tone left no room for argument. It was a line in the sand—and no one stepped over it.
Once again, the officers reached a quiet, mostly unanimous understanding, and one by one, the call began to wind down. The holographic screens blinked out as each participant disconnected, until only three remained: Sion, Ironwood, and Winter.
"I'd say that went better than expected," Ironwood said, leaning back slightly in his chair with a quiet exhale.
"Agreed," Sion replied.
"Though I admit, I was surprised by how strongly you backed that boy—and how openly Winter spoke in his defense. You'd told me a bit about him before, but now I'm genuinely interested in seeing him for myself."
Ironwood let out a soft chuckle.
"You'll have the chance, I'm sure. But for now, I'd prefer not to distract him with internal politics. Mantle and the Crater have long been problems I've wanted to deal with directly, but never had the time—or the mental bandwidth. Asher has shown both competence and results, and that's enough for me to give him my full support. Especially considering we'll soon be finalizing contracts with the company he's building."
"Oh? He's that young and already starting his own company?" Sion said, a note of surprise in his voice.
Winter spoke up smoothly.
"As the General mentioned, Asher is a genius. Given everything he's accomplished so far, it's not all that surprising when you put it in perspective."
Sion paused, thoughtful for a moment, then gave a small nod.
"Well, I suppose you know him far better than I do. I'll take your word for it. In any case, I've kept this call going long enough. If you'll excuse me, General." He offered a respectful nod toward Ironwood, who returned it in kind. With that, the final holographic feed blinked out of existence.
Ironwood pressed a button on his desk, and the hard-light projection table slowly sank back into the floor. At the same time, the window tint faded, allowing the natural daylight to spill back into the office.
Winter glanced toward Ironwood, her expression candid.
"This won't be the last time a conversation like that comes up."
Ironwood didn't argue.
He shook his head as he replied, "Of course not. But that's not what we need to focus on right now. Our priority is ensuring Asher completes his mission successfully—and that the courts of Atlas deliver a proper judgment on the Maron family. If that means placating a few high-ranking officers in the meantime, then so be it. We'll deal with everything else in due time."
"Understood, sir."
=====================================•=====================================
February 28th, 2034
It had been over two weeks since Asher began deploying the Insurgency, working methodically through the list of "problems" plaguing both Mantle and the Crater—issues that had been quietly eroding the kingdom's foundation for years.
He brought in the Insurgents early because, at the top of that list, were the kinds of people who wouldn't go down without a fight. Dangerous types—armed, connected, and protected by illegal resources and hired guns. In situations like that, Asher had deemed it necessary to meet force with greater force.
And that force had proven, unsurprisingly, to be devastatingly effective.
Just as he had intended when designing the unit, the Insurgency functioned as the perfect vanguard. With their specialized training, cutting-edge gear, and strict adherence to his orders, they had become the most efficient fighting force within the Atlas Military. No standard threat could match them.
Of course, as the list went on, the number of overtly violent targets dwindled. The criminal underworld was far too large to eliminate entirely—but the list of powerful individuals within it, those who truly mattered, was far more manageable. In the past, removing the top players might have only left behind a vacuum, ready for someone else to step in.
But now, with the Insurgents appearing more and more in news reports and public broadcasts, with their actions becoming synonymous with swift, overwhelming retaliation, that vacuum no longer looked so inviting.
Asher's strategy had worked. He had planted a seed of fear—a very intentional deterrent—for anyone eyeing the bloodstained thrones left behind.
As for the more subtle kinds of evil—the ones buried beneath layers of red tape, hidden in backroom deals, or disguised as civic leaders—Asher hadn't forgotten about them either.
But the Insurgents wouldn't be needed for that. They could be a hammer or a scalpel, but they weren't needed for something like this.
For those targets, all Asher had to do was gather the evidence, build the case, and push their arrests through the proper channels.
As long as he kept a close eye on the trial's progress, no one would dare try to interfere with it or have it thrown out. It almost sounded deceptively simple—that just having someone with real authority watching closely was enough to make the justice system function as intended.
But that had always been the case.
The problem wasn't complexity.
It was that, in the past, the higher authorities were either unaware, compromised, or too caught up in other responsibilities to act. General Ironwood was a prime example. He undoubtedly knew corruption existed within Atlas, but expecting the leader of both the military and the Academy to track every individual case involving dirty officials was unrealistic.
There were systems in place—agencies, departments, watchdogs—meant to handle these things without his direct involvement. But over time, those systems had stalled out, becoming just another piece of the problem they were supposed to prevent.
"Oversight, oversight, oversight..." Asher muttered to himself.
"Too many failures in governance come from one simple issue—no one with real authority is watching closely enough. If the right people were actually reviewing what happened within their domain, and if communication between sectors wasn't so inefficient, even imperfect monitoring would be enough to curb corruption."
He spoke aloud to no one in particular, his voice casual but thoughtful. Reclined in his chair, legs propped against the side of his glass desk, Asher's eyes flicked between the floating holographic screens in front of him. Some were tuned to live news broadcasts. Others displayed incoming reports—intel and analysis forwarded by Graz.
"But as things are now, that kind of oversight is impossible. I don't even have the authority to start a project on that scale yet."
He exhaled through his nose, eyes narrowing slightly.
"For now, my priority has to be building a stable foundation for Karatheon—giving it a clean reputation the public can trust."
It was a dual-front effort: crack down on criminal elements with undeniable results, while simultaneously creating better opportunities for those on the legal, legitimate side of society.
That was the mission. For now, at least.
[Sir.]
The feminine artificial voice echoed through Asher's office, smooth and clear, as if carried by hidden speakers embedded in the walls. It immediately pulled him out of his thoughts. He sat up straight, dropping his feet from the edge of the desk.
"What is it, GAIA?" He asked.
In response, the ceiling-mounted projectors flickered to life. Streams of light began to weave together in front of his desk, forming a humanoid figure from the top down.
It started with the shimmer of white-blond hair, tied into a high ponytail that moved with the smooth, physics-driven motion of simulated weight. As the face resolved, it revealed a woman—strikingly artificial, yet undeniably elegant. Her eyes were a vivid, piercing blue, and her skin held a pale, bluish-white hue that made it immediately clear: she wasn't human.
Within seconds, the projection fully rendered.
She wore an open, unbuttoned lab coat over a form-fitting turtleneck that extended into a skirt-like design. Her coat bore a stitched-on name tag: GAIA
This was the prototype avatar Asher had developed when he uploaded GAIA into the building's internal network. Through the advanced holographic systems integrated throughout the facility, she could now appear in any room, taking on a visible, though non-corporeal form.
There was, however, one peculiar detail: she had no shoes. Despite Asher's best efforts, adding virtual footwear like heels caused the projector's calibration to bug out, skewing her rendered height in unpredictable ways. Eventually, Asher gave up trying to fix it.
Some things just weren't worth the hassle.
[Liv and her group have arrived. They're currently waiting at the front gate.]
GAIA reported, raising one of her hands.
A secondary screen materialized just above her palm, floating as though she were holding it up herself. On it was live security footage: Liv standing outside the main gate, accompanied by a sizable crowd—both Faunus and human.
Asher's eyebrows lifted slightly.
"Look at that crowd... That's a bigger turnout than I expected."
Liv's influence was clearly no small thing.
"Well then," he said, rising from his chair, "no point in keeping them waiting. Let's go meet our future employees."