Jaune sat inside the cold, metal confines of his cell, his hands resting on his knees as he mulled over everything that had happened. The room was silent, save for the low hum of Atlesian machinery outside the walls. When he came back to base, there was no shouting, no accusations, no heavy footsteps of guards coming to berate him. Instead, there was just the quiet solitude, which allowed his thoughts to fester.

He'd gone rogue. He'd acted on his own, interfered in a mission that had directly concerned General Ironwood and the teams he's commanding. And now he was supposed to be paying the price. But this wasn't the kind of punishment he'd expected. The soldiers, the grunts in the base who he had gotten along with, didn't yell at him for his actions. If anything, they respected him more for what he'd done.

Scarlet had been popular, a force of nature within Steel Squadron, and Carson… Carson had been the backbone of their team. When news spread of their deaths, of how they were killed by Thornmane's planned ambushed, the soldiers wanted blood. And Jaune had given them exactly that. Thornmane's death had sent shockwaves through the ranks. Everyone knew what he had done, how he'd crushed that piece of scum into the ground. And for that, they were glad.

But none of that was comforting. Not anymore.

Jaune's mind had been running on a one-track path for days. Revenge felt good at the time, the thought of putting down someone as vile as Bram Thornmane. A piece of filth who had orchestrated the deaths of his friends, his brothers-in-arms. In the heat of the moment, it had felt righteous, necessary. It wasn't just about victory, it was about closure. Jaune had been laser-focused on seeing Thornmane dead, on seeing the man's blood spilled, his body broken. And when he had finally done it, it had felt like justice.

But now, with the adrenaline long gone, sitting in this quiet, empty cell, he didn't feel like a hero.

He felt hollow.

The rush of it. The adrenaline, the fight, the kill. It had all been exhilarating. He couldn't lie to himself about that in the heat of battle, knowing that the man in front of him would never harm another one of his friends again, Jaune had felt a surge of something close to euphoria. But now, as he sat alone, with nothing but his own thoughts for company, he felt afraid.

He wasn't afraid of punishment or the consequences of his actions. General Ironwood's stare didn't haunt him. What scared Jaune was the fact that he had enjoyed it. That in those moments of rage, of fury, of unrelenting violence, he had liked it.

Jaune ran a hand through his hair, staring blankly at the steel floor.

Was this who he had become? Someone who took satisfaction in ending lives, even if those lives were enemies? He tried to justify it to himself. It was them or me. They were killers. They deserved it. And maybe that was true. Maybe he had done the world a favor by ridding it of Bram Thornmane and stopping his plan. But it wasn't just the act of killing that weighed on him. It was the enjoyment. The rush of adrenaline, the thrill of being in control, of deciding whether someone lived or died.

That wasn't who he was. At least, it wasn't who he thought he was.

For most of his military career, Jaune had tried to maintain a moral compass. He'd killed before, sure, but it had always been in self-defense, in the heat of battle, when there was no other option. It was never about wanting to kill. It was about survival. But this time… this time felt different.

There was a part of him, a dark part buried deep inside, that had relished the violence. And now, with the fight over, that realization made him sick to his stomach.

He clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white. He had to keep telling himself that what he'd done was necessary. Thornmane was a monster. He had orchestrated the deaths of so many, including Carson and Scarlet and Gray and more if he had been successful. Jaune had only done what needed to be done. But that didn't explain why he couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted inside him.

"Damn it…" Jaune muttered, his voice barely a whisper in the silence of the cell. His thoughts spiraled further, trapped in an endless loop of self-doubt and regret.

If he hadn't killed Thornmane, would things have been different? Would he still be sitting here, trying to make sense of it all? He didn't know. And the worst part was, he wasn't sure he cared.

It was done. Thornmane was dead. Carson, Scarlet and Gray were avenged. But now, without the clarity of rage fueling his actions, Jaune felt lost. Empty.

He leaned back against the cold wall, his eyes closing for a moment as the weight of everything settled over him. This wasn't what he had signed up for when he joined the military. He'd wanted to protect people, to fight for something bigger than himself. But somewhere along the way, that noble goal had been twisted, warped by the harsh reality of war. Now, he wasn't sure what he was fighting for anymore.

Maybe there was no grand cause. Maybe there was no right or wrong in war. There were just people. People like him, who made decisions in the heat of the moment, who lived with the consequences of those decisions long after the fighting was over.

Jaune opened his eyes and stared at the metal door in front of him. The thought of leaving the cell and facing the outside world made him feel even more drained. What would they say about him? What would they see when they looked at him now? A hero who had avenged his fallen comrades? Or a man who had lost himself in the violence?

The door slid open with a hiss, pulling Jaune from his thoughts. He looked up to see a familiar face — one of the sergeants from the Base. The man didn't say a word, just gave Jaune a nod. It wasn't a gesture of pity or judgment, just acknowledgment.

"They're ready to see you now, Lieutenant," the sergeant said, his voice low.

Jaune nodded, pushing himself off the bench and standing. He straightened his uniform, taking a deep breath as he prepared to step out of the cell.

The sergeant looked at him for a moment before speaking again. "For what it's worth, most of us think you did the right thing, Sir."

Jaune didn't respond. He wasn't sure he could. Instead, he walked past the sergeant and out of the cell, his boots echoing down the long hallway as he made his way toward whatever judgment awaited him.

The halls were sterile, clean, and orderly—everything Jaune had come to expect from Atlas. But no amount of order could erase the chaos that had been stirring inside him.

As he approached the debriefing room, Jaune braced himself. He knew what was coming. He knew the General would have questions, that the higher - ups would demand answers. But as he walked through the door, he realized that no matter what they said, no matter what judgment they passed down, it wouldn't matter.

The real battle wasn't with the higher-ups. It wasn't even with the enemy.

It was with himself.

And that was a fight Jaune wasn't sure he could win.

The door slid open. General James Ironwood stepped inside, his presence heavy as always. He stood there for a moment, observing Jaune in silence before finally speaking.

"Lieutenant Jaune Arc."

Jaune swallowed hard, his throat dry, but he stood up and saluted. "General."

There was a long pause. General Ironwood's expression was unreadable as he stepped further into the room, his polished boots clicking against the cold floor. He stood with his hands behind his back, his broad frame casting a long shadow over Jaune.

"You disobeyed orders," Ironwood said, his voice calm but firm. "You went rogue on an active mission. You killed without authorization. Do you understand the gravity of what you've done?"

Jaune nodded, still staring at the floor. "Yes, sir."

Ironwood exhaled slowly. "And yet, here you sit. No reprimand, no punishment beyond confinement. Do you know why that is, Arc?"

Jaune shook his head, unsure where Ironwood was leading.

"Because every soldier, every single one of your peers, believes that Thornmane deserved what you did to him. They believe he deserved to die in the way you killed him. They see you as a hero for taking down the man responsible for so much loss." Ironwood's voice hardened. "But you're a soldier, Arc. And soldiers like us follow orders. If we allow every men and women to do what they want because it served them... then it won't be an army anymore."

Jaune looked up, his blue eyes meeting Ironwood's stern gaze. "I know, sir."

Ironwood's gaze softened, but only slightly. "You went too far. The thrill of the kill... it's a dangerous path to walk. And I can see it in your eyes, Arc. you enjoyed it, didn't you?"

Jaune hesitated, the words catching in his throat. He wanted to lie, to deny it, but what was the point? The General probably could see right through him now.

"I… I didn't like killing him, sir. But I liked that it was over. I liked that he couldn't hurt anyone else."

Ironwood regarded him for a long moment. "That's the problem, Lieutenant. You had let your emotions cloud your judgment. You allowed revenge to dictate your actions. In that moment, you became no better than the men you were hunting."

Jaune flinched at the harsh truth of the statement, but he didn't disagree. Thornmane had been a monster, but that didn't mean Jaune had to become one, too.

"I killed to stop more killing," Jaune said quietly, his voice strained. "But… it didn't feel right, sir. Not afterwards."

Ironwood nodded slowly. "That's the line we walk, Lieutenant. It's a thin line between justice and vengeance, and once you cross it, it's hard to come back. You have to decide, right now, which side you want to be on."

Jaune's thoughts raced. The faces of his fallen squad members flashed through his mind — Carson, Scarlet, Gray, the countless others who had died because of Thornmane and his forces. He had avenged them, hadn't he? But Ironwood was right. In that moment of victory, it hadn't been justice he was seeking. It was something darker.

"I don't know if I can come back from this, sir," Jaune admitted, his voice barely a whisper.

Ironwood's eyes softened just a fraction. "You can, Arc. But it's not going to be easy. The choices we make define us. You have to decide if you're going to let this define you."

Jaune swallowed hard, his mind still reeling from everything that had happened. Could he find his way back? Could he still be the soldier he had once aspired to be? Or had he gone too far down the path of vengeance to ever turn back?

"I won't let it define me," Jaune said, his voice stronger now. "But I'll accept whatever it is that comes my way, Sir. I take full responsibility for my actions."

Ironwood straightened, his expression unreadable once again. "Good. Then let this be a harsh lesson, Lieutenant. You're being given a second chance, but I won't give you a third. Understood?"

Jaune snapped to attention, his body moving on instinct. "Yes, sir."

"I looked up your file, Arc," Ironwood said, leaning forward just enough to convey an intensity that made Jaune straighten his back. "You were part of a company named after me, weren't you?"

Jaune hesitated. He wasn't sure where this was leading, but his gut told him it wouldn't be easy. "Yes, sir," he responded, his voice steady though his mind raced.

Ironwood's eyes darkened, not with anger, but with a shadow of something Jaune couldn't quite define. Regret? Sorrow? Perhaps it was empathy, or maybe it was something deeper that the General kept hidden beneath layers of discipline and duty.

"That's one of the greatest honors any soldier could have," Ironwood continued, his tone softer, tinged with an emotion Jaune wasn't accustomed to hearing from him. "And it pained me to hear that the company was wiped out."

Wiped out.

The words still hit Jaune like a physical blow, though he'd heard them many times before. In fact, he had told himself those very words for so long, they had lost their sting. But hearing them from General Ironwood was different. He wasn't just a leader; he was a symbol of the military might Jaune had once believed in wholeheartedly. To lose a company named after such a man, a company that embodied everything Jaune had aspired to, felt like a failure that went beyond the battlefield.

Ironwood's voice pulled him from his thoughts. His gaze softened as he asked the question that Jaune had feared, the question that brought the ghosts of his past roaring back into the room.

"How did your company live?"

Jaune's throat tightened, his chest constricting as the memories surged forward unbidden. He had spent so much time trying to bury those faces, those moments, yet now they were all he could see. Sgt. Brown, with his grizzled face full of calm and relentless determination. Rumple and Humpty, always side by side, cracking jokes even in the heat of battle/ Mint the rookie, who could calm Jaune with his antics. He could remember the sight again. They were all there, standing shoulder to shoulder as they had in life, fighting together in the face of Grimm.

"They fought," Jaune began, his voice surprisingly steady given the storm inside him. "They fought without fear, without hesitation. Surrounded by enemies from all sides, they never gave up."

His words echoed in the quiet of the room, but in his mind, they were drowned out by the sounds of battle. The growls of Grimm, the clash of weapons, the shouts of orders. His brothers and sisters, his comrades, were alive again, if only for this moment.

"Sgt. Brown," Jaune continued, a small, pained smile tugging at his lips, "he took down two Grimm without even having an aura, you know?"

Ironwood didn't respond immediately, his face impassive as Jaune's words washed over him. But Jaune could sense the weight of his silence. He could feel that Ironwood was not just hearing his words, but understanding the depth of what they meant.

"Every brother and sister of Ironwood Company fought with their weapons and their will," Jaune continued, the memories pushing the words out of him. "Even the officers… they would rather die with their brothers and sisters than flee like cowards."

It was true that Ironwood Company had been made up of soldiers driven by rank or protocol. But despite that they had fought for each other. They stood together because despite it all they belong to the same company. Their true colors... were simply brave.

"They stood without fear," Jaune said, his voice quieter now, "so they could rescue a comrade and let the world know how they fought… and how they lived... that they were... brave."

Ironwood listened in silence, his expression unreadable, though there was something behind his eyes — something Jaune hadn't expected. Guilt.

Finally, Ironwood spoke again, his voice quiet. "Hearing that… seeing what you did at Arrowfell it made me realize something. Lately, I've been afraid, Lieutenant. Afraid of losing control. Afraid of making the wrong choices. And it wasn't just me — others close to me have felt the same. We've been cornered, and we've let fear dictate our actions. But those men, your company, they fought without fear. They didn't let it consume them. If they can do that, how can I let myself fall into the same trap? It feels shameful. Truthfully, what the hell was I doing?"

Jaune stared at the General, not sure how to respond. General James Ironwood himself was admitting fear. Admitting that he, too, had been close to losing his way.

"And you," Ironwood continued, "you made me realize that. By going too far, you reminded me of something I had almost forgotten. You reminded me of what it means to fight without fear and also the consequences of doing so as well. You can become blind… single-minded, and you became deaf to the voices of your comrades. For that, I owe you something. It looks like I was stuck up in the air too much and haven't seen much of below...but I can see now, soldier."

Ironwood then straightened, his posture once again rigid and formal. "I'm giving you a second chance too, Arc. Not as a soldier, but as a Huntsman."

Jaune blinked, unsure if he had heard correctly. "Sir?"

Ironwood pulled out a scroll and showed it to Jaune. His name flashed on the screen, and underneath it, the words Huntsman License.

"You've proven yourself capable," Ironwood said. "You've been trained, and you've shown that you can fight. Normally, you'd be court-martialed for going rogue, but I'm not going to waste a soldier like you when we're in danger. This is the best course for you, and for Atlas. You'll fight for us now as a Huntsman."

Jaune was hesitant. He wasn't sure if he was ready for this, or if he deserved it after what he had done. But Ironwood's words resonated with him. The General had been on the verge of losing his way, just like Jaune had. If Ironwood could find his path again, maybe Jaune could, too.

Ironwood's voice softened once more. "I've been fearing the future, Arc. But seeing what you've gone through, hearing how your company lived and died… it felt like someone slapped me out of my fears. You've gone through hell, and now I'm offering you a way forward, too. Soldiers like us get lost, and I'm hoping that you can find your way, too."

Jaune stood up, his decision made. He saluted General Ironwood, his resolve hardening. "I accept, sir."

Ironwood returned the salute. "Good. For now, I want you to take a rest. For God's sake, they didn't even gave you a vacation when you returned to Atlas. You'll report to me for your next assignment once you're all processed up and done. And Arc?"

Jaune looked up, meeting Ironwood's gaze.

"Don't lose yourself again. We need men like you, but we need you to stay on the right path."

Jaune nodded, though he felt like it was something the General said for himself, not for him.