The Extra's Rebellion
Chapter 99: Conviction

Chapter 99: Conviction

Samantha stood in full combat gear, the same as the rest of her squad. The air around the sitting room buzzed with anticipation, blades humming as they were sheathed, boots scuffing against tile.

But her focus shattered the moment the door creaked open.

Zephyr staggered out of his room.

His hair was a mess. His eyes sunken. His clothes looked like he’d slept in it—if he’d slept at all. He clutched a notebook like it was more vital than a blade, and there was something in his gait—half-drag, half-drift—that made her snap.

Before she could stop herself, the words came out.

"Why."

Zephyr blinked at her, confused. "Huh?"

That look—like he didn’t even understand what he’d done wrong—made her feel like she’d lost grip of herself.

"Why are you like this?" she pressed, stepping toward him. She didn’t wait for him to speak.

"Your cowardice stinks." Her voice rose, and before she knew it all her frustration poured out. Maybe it was because she was going back home, or because of the letter her uncle sent her informing her of the ongoing war. But all her pent up stress were pouring out at the moment.

"You run from battles even though you have the instincts. The talent."

Zephyr’s dry response was quiet. "Thanks."

She scoffed. "It’s not a compliment!" She gestured sharply toward him, her fingers trembling. "This is what you do—you reflect, you criticize, you disappear. Why can’t you live up to your name? You’re Demios-blooded, aren’t you?"

Her fists clenched. The rest of the squad was pretending not to listen, but everyone was watching from the corners of their eyes.

"If you didn’t surrender before battles even started, we wouldn’t be in this mess."

Zephyr tilted his head. "So... this is about team rankings?"

"No! It’s not about the damn rankings!" she shouted. "It’s about you! Your entire approach to life! Your laziness—it’s been rubbing off on me since day one. It’s like you don’t care. About anything. Or anyone. Do you even know what the consequences of your cowardice are?"

But it wasn’t just about him anymore.

She was suddenly back there—that night. The fire. The screams. Her mother dragging her by the hand through rubble. Her father shouting orders—but never stepping forward. Hesitating. Always hesitating.

If he had just made a choice...

If her uncle hadn’t waited...

Maybe—

She’d buried those memories. Locked them away.

She wasn’t blaming them anymore. Not really. She had moved on. She had survived.

But then Zephyr came into her squad. A walking, breathing reminder of hesitation. A ghost of her past in a boy who refused to try.

At first, she thought his apathy was because of the rumors—because of what they said he did to the princess. She thought he’d change. She thought he wanted to change.

But no.

He only got worse.

He holed himself up, scribbling in his stupid notebook, muttering about theories and weaving patterns no one cared to hear. Even when his discoveries had merit, it didn’t excuse his complete disregard for the rest of the team.

In battle, he either skirted the edge of the ring or straight-up walked out on purpose. The more she tried to help, the more he sank deeper into his strange shell.

And worst of all—he was gifted. Ridiculously so.

He didn’t train, not once. Not even at night. And yet he managed to match Noctis—who was second in the entire academy. Maybe he could’ve even beaten the princess if he had tried.

But he didn’t.

He was throwing away power most people would die to have.

And she hated that. She hated how much it bothered her.

She glared at him now—and he just stood there.

Same blank stare. Same detached air. Like her words were leaves on a passing wind.

She gritted her teeth. Rage burned behind her eyes.

"You know what?" she said quietly, almost trembling. "I can’t have someone who doesn’t even try to do better, in my squad".

A moment passed.

Then Zephyr spoke, voice calm as ever. "You think threatening me will make me change?"

His head tilted, eyes unreadable. That tone—soft, almost amused—cut through her like a dagger.

That was it.

"I don’t think this is going to work out," she said, shaking her head. Her heart was pounding, her throat tightening. Anger curled in her chest—and something else.

Grief.

Where the hell was that coming from?

She swallowed it down. Steeled herself.

"You lack conviction and I don’t think you would ever get it, and now with my authority as squad leader... I revoke your position as assistant. And as a member of this squad

Her voice didn’t shake, but her chest did.

And then came that awful feeling.

That same hollow ache. The one she felt when she lost her parents. The one that settled in when she lost a friend.

But this was the only way.

She told herself it was for him. That it would force him to find his conviction. That maybe being cut loose would finally make him feel something.

’This world isn’t safe’. She thought. ’He won’t survive unless he changes’.

She turned and walked away. She didn’t wait for his reaction. Didn’t want to see his face.

She hated goodbyes.

But as her steps grew heavier, she whispered to herself.

"Why do I feel so bad...?". Her throat felt raw. Her chest ached. "Why is my voice hoarse?"

It was the right call. It had to be.

’Then why do I feel so hollow?’.

*****

Zephyr barely noticed the weight of the notebook in his hand. His body moved on autopilot—each step sluggish, bones aching like they hadn’t rested in years.

The door creaked open, and as he stepped into the sitting room, the murmur of blades sheathing and boots shifting met him like distant thunder.

He didn’t even get a chance to breathe before a voice cut through the air.

"Why."

His head turned slowly. Samantha stood near the center, clad in full combat gear like the rest. Her expression was already twisted with something between frustration and disbelief.

"Huh?" he said, his voice dry, eyes still adjusting to the light.

Her expression sharpened. "Why are you like this?"

He blinked. What kind of question was that?

Then came the blow.

"Your cowardice stinks."

Her words struck harder than any physical pain. Not because they were harsh—but because of how familiar they sounded. He’d heard them before, not from others. From himself.

She stepped toward him, voice rising like a tide she couldn’t stop. "You run from battles even though you have the instincts. The talent."

Zephyr’s lips curved slightly. "Thanks," he murmured, automatic.

But that only fueled her anger.

"It’s not a compliment!" she snapped. "This is what you do—you reflect, you criticize, you disappear. Why can’t you live up to your name? You’re Demios-blooded, aren’t you?"

That name again. Like it meant something.

The squad wasn’t speaking, but he could feel their eyes. Everyone listening.

She wasn’t finished.

"If you didn’t surrender before battles even started, we wouldn’t be in this mess."

He tilted his head slightly, his voice neutral. "So... this is about team rankings?"

She exploded. "No! It’s not about the damn rankings! It’s about you! Your entire approach to life! Your laziness—it’s been rubbing off on me since day one. It’s like you don’t care. About anything. Or anyone. Do you even know what the consequences of your cowardice are?"

His jaw stayed still, but his fingers tightened slightly around the notebook.

She didn’t get it.

None of them did.

To them, the fight was everything—brute force, raw effort, progress you could see and measure. But Zephyr had long since stopped thinking that way. He didn’t run from battle. He just fought a different one.

But how could he explain that to someone like her?

Someone who saw retreat as weakness. Who lived like every inch had to be earned through blood and discipline. Someone who thought that strength was only strength if you showed it.

Her words turned vague after a while, like static in his ears.

But her face...

Her face was alive with pain.

And that was when he realized something—this wasn’t just about him. At least not all of it

Her face was alit with fresh pain, her eyes blank as if remembering something. Her anger, her rage—it wasn’t all aimed at him.

But that didn’t stop it from cutting deep. Then came the final words. Quiet. Final.

"I can’t have someone who doesn’t even try to do better in my squad."

It didn’t sting like it should’ve. Not at first. Just... hovered in the air like a final verdict.

Zephyr felt something inside him go still.

"You think threatening me will make me change?" he asked, tilting his head again, voice calm, almost distant. His tone wasn’t mockery. Just a genuine question. Almost curious.

But it was the wrong thing to say.

Her body tightened like a bowstring. And then— "I don’t think this is going to work out."

’why does it sound like a break up’.

She continued, voice trembling just a little now.

"You lack conviction and I don’t think you would ever get it, and now with my authority as squad leader... I revoke your position as assistant. And as a member of this squad."

He didn’t flinch, didn’t move, didn’t even blink. And she didn’t wait for a reply. She turned away, boots echoing against the tile.

He stood there in the middle of the room, silent as her footsteps faded.

No one said anything. The squad slowly went back to preparing, but their movements were quieter. Awkward.

Zephyr stared at the space Samantha had left behind.

’Conviction! Who is she to judge my conviction. You know what I will show you conviction’. Inside Zephyr’s brain, something seems to have sparked off, and it was quickly becoming a raging fire.