Chapter 141: Clashing Morals
It didn’t take long for the Rejected Corps to claim victory.
The restaurant floor was chaos incarnate, broken plates, shattered glass, overturned tables, and bodies. Chalkline Boys were scattered across the scene like discarded props, groaning or unconscious, blood smearing the tiles in streaks and pools. Some slumped over booths, others splayed on the ground, still twitching.
Despite the intensity of the fight, the Rejected Corps had only sustained two serious casualties, fighters who, by the looks of it, wouldn’t be joining the next battle anytime soon. Even so, compared to the damage they’d inflicted?
Minimal losses. Another brutal, overwhelming win for the Rejected Corps.
As for Max and Wolf, they’d come out of it without a scratch. No bruises, no blood, just a clean record and a healthy stack of knocked-out enemies. Both had taken out more than their fair share, and now stood near the entrance, breathing steady, barely winded.
Max looked around at the wreckage.
The place’s done for, he thought. Won’t be serving hot pot again anytime soon.
He scanned the battlefield, taking in the full picture, not just the victory, but the message it sent. The Chalkline Boys had been hit hard. Really hard. This wasn’t something they’d walk away from quietly.
They won’t just let this go, Max thought grimly. They’ll retaliate. And when they do, the Rejected Corps will need help again. Which means... they’ll come calling. Probably for me.
Down the middle of the room, Na walked through the aftermath with cold precision, checking on each fighter, assessing damage, collecting a mental report.
"They were tougher this time," Dud muttered, brushing blood off his knuckles.
Na nodded. "Right. That’s why Chrono sent me."
Dud tilted his head. "You think Chrono could’ve just sent another squad with us? Might’ve saved us a few injuries."
Na’s gaze drifted. He looked toward Max and Wolf.
"I think you’re right," he admitted. "But I think Chrono wanted to test them. With another squad in the mix, we wouldn’t have gotten a clear read on what they’re capable of. He wanted proof. What do you think of them?"
Dud crouched beside one of the Chalkline fighters and casually started rifling through the man’s pockets.
"You’re not gonna care what I think," Dud replied as he slipped a silver watch off the man’s wrist and pocketed it. "Chrono’s gonna ask you , not me. So I’ll flip it, what do you think?"
Na scowled. "Do you have to do that?"
"What?" Dud asked, looking up with mock innocence.
"If the others see you looting our enemies for scraps, they’re gonna start thinking we’re underpaid."
Dud grinned and pointed straight at Na’s face. "Money is money. And as the victor, I take what I want."
Then, with a flash of that crooked smile, he added, "And don’t forget, Sergeant. You don’t give me orders."
The tension between them didn’t go unnoticed. Other Rejected Corps members paused mid-cleanup to glance over. The air thickened.
Everyone knew, Dud and Na didn’t get along.
They never had, since the first day the two had met each other. Most members of the Rejected Corps had gathered close to the start of the formation of the group. Na had been there from the beginning where Dud had joined at a later time. So they had seen the countless close encounters the two had between each other.
And that’s why Chrono never paired them unless he had no choice. Their arguments were like storms waiting to explode. At some points. Some of the other members didn’t help, as they had bets placed on who they thought would win if the two ever were to clash.
And it just made everyone feel the tension every time they were in the same room.
The reason was simple: their morals .
Dud looted the battlefield. Every time. Enemy or ally, it didn’t matter to him. If someone had something valuable and they couldn’t keep it, it became his. There were rumors, whispers among the ranks, that he’d once stolen a jeweled keepsake from a fallen squadmate. Something the soldier’s daughter was meant to receive as a final memory.
Dud claimed he’d earned it. He said that if he hadn’t survived to return with it, it would’ve been lost forever in some foreign country. He’d brought it back alive, so it was his. End of story.
But it wasn’t that simple. That final argument with his commanding officer had pushed things too far. Too loud. Too disrespectful. And Dud had been kicked out of his old unit.
At least, that’s how the story went.
Na, on the other hand, was the opposite.
He followed protocol to the letter. Cold, focused, controlled. He didn’t crack jokes, didn’t smile, didn’t break rank. He was Chrono’s right hand, always by the General’s side, rarely out in the field.
No one knew why he had been dismissed from his previous unit. And that mystery? Made people fear him even more.
Na turned back to the matter at hand.
"They have potential," he said, finally. "They’re raw, but they have what it takes. Could be Sergeants one day. Not now, but in time. Maybe a few years from now. They’re valuable. The danger is... Chrono might be seeing them too highly, too soon. Because of the situation we’re in."
Dud chuckled. "Good answer. Now you can tell Chrono all that, and I can collect my bonus for doing a job well done."
He moved on to the next downed fighter, kneeling beside him to check for anything worth taking.
When the team finished their cleanup, the last thing they did was lock the restaurant doors behind them. The building was unsalvageable for now. Broken glass crunched beneath their boots as they headed back to their vehicles, the silence around them heavy with aftermath.
Na turned toward Max and Wolf as they reached the cars.
"Alright, you two," he said. "We’re heading to the hangar. The boss wants to see you."
His voice left no room for argument.
Max glanced at Wolf, then nodded.
Whatever came next, they were in it now.