So it is done

"Mr. Goodman?" The doctor's voice reached Jonathan from the wrong side from where he actually was… However, this was to be expected. "How are you feeling?"

"It WaS MUcH bEtTeR oNcE," Jonathan replied in a hoarse voice, before coughing at the scratchy feeling from his throat. Although the damned ventilator tube had been removed a few hours ago, his throat was still very dry. The itch was almost unbearable. "Be KiNd, AnD GRaB Me A gLaSs Of WaTeR pLeAsE?"

"Of course," The doctor, a middle-aged man with an exhausted and tired expression on his face, handed Jonathan a glass of water, and after watching Jonathan take a few sips, took the glass back and placed it on an empty table. The doctor then took a few steps, looking at Jonathan, who continued to lie on the bed. "Can you get out of bed?"

"I could," Jonathan sighed as he leaned his head back on the pillow, his throat feeling much better. It still hurts to talk, though, at least he no longer sounds like a nail on a chalkboard.

"But if I do, my head starts to spin. I think I'll lie down for another day before I bother trying again…"

"Of course, Mr. Goodman, you're free to take as much time as you want," At Jonathan's reply, the doctor just nodded, before looking back to his charts. Jonathan's to be exact. "Do you know what happened to you?"

"To me?" Jonathan just sighed at the Doctor's question. He knew exactly what happened to him, he just can't exactly tell a Sleeper what actually happened, now can he? Still, he had to say something, so with a cough to clear his throat, Jonathan just answered in the most vague way possible. "I know… Not just from a medical point of view, however."

"I would be interested to hear your recollection of what happened anyway." At Jonathan's evasive answer, the doctor consulted his charts, checking something for himself before looking at Jonathan again, "The results that we got from the tests we did when you were brought here… The word 'unusual' doesn't even describe the depth of our confusion. How exactly could you get so many completely unique injuries that seem to have no common causes for each of them?" The Doctor asked with a raised eyebrow.

"The only thing that I care about, Doctor, really, is that they did not turn out to be fatal." Jonathan smiled weakly, "Besides that doctor, shouldn't you now deal with the other wounded? I'm already recovering, after all."

"I'm afraid to say, Mr. Goodman, that our, ahem, provisional government," For some reason, the doctor glanced at the door, as if expecting someone from the military would just burst through the door because he just mentioned them, before continuing to speak, "Valued your health and well-being very much, that I can't just leave you unattended. I think you yourself have noticed it…"

"Of course," Jonathan sighed as he looked around him. More specifically, at the private VIP hospital room dedicated solely for his treatment. And in a city that had almost suffered total destruction, such a thing was rarer than an old Mage not having a God complex. "I don't imagine that, after all that had happened, there's anywhere in the city where there's a single empty hospital room. Moreover, one in the intensive care unit."

"As I said - your health is of great importance to the provisional government. So, were you told about how long you were unconscious? And about the situation around the city?"

"In general terms only," Jonathan shook his head listlessly, "I was told that I was unconscious for a week?"

"Strictly speaking - it was only six days. But yes, about a week." The doctor checked the charts again, before continuing. "And… I do not know what exactly you did, but no matter what you did at the moment, the reorganized army is slowly clearing out the remnants of the Grimm from the city. At the moment, the horde has been stopped, but… "

The doctor paused, as if he was physically fighting himself whether to tell Jonathan something unpleasant. However, Jonathan was not stupid enough not to understand what the doctor wanted to hide.

"Is the city done for?" Jonathan looked at the doctor and then to the side, realizing that the doctor was probably one of the people that had to deal with the aftermath of the massacre, and he just reminded the doctor of this face. "This is… I'm sorry."

"No, not completely at least." The doctor smiled with obvious exhaustion. "For example, this hospital survived, so did the central bank, and even some residential buildings... And, Mr. Goodman - if there is anyone in Remnant who would dare to reproach you with anything now, after all, what you did, I think that the army and civilians, all the survivors of Mount Glenn, would have ripped them apart for their temerity. With me, myself among the first."

"I…" Jonathan sighed at the doctor's impassioned words and looked at the ceiling, - "Thank you."

"Me?" The doctor only smiled in response, "It was not I who saved the people from the Grimm, but you, Mr. Goodman."

"Hmm… " Feeling a little uncomfortable from the sincerity of the doctor's words, Jonathan tried to change the topic, "So what's the damage?' Jonathan motioned towards the chart in the doctor's hands.

"Hmm?" The doctor easily allowed the change in topic, glancing at his notes and sighed before returning his attention towards Jonathan, "I'll repeat what I've said before again, Mr. Goodman. I'm familiar and have seen many people with your wounds before, but on different patients, never all together. The fact that you had received such disparate injuries somehow… let's just say that any chance to determine the cause of such a state is minor to say the least. So, unless your memory suddenly decides to come back, we're out of luck in that department."

"I already understood that, doctor," Jonathan sighed. "But at least I want to know the extent of my injuries."

The doctor once again looked at Jonathan a little sadly and, with a sigh, began to speak. "Complete hearing loss in the left ear, we will try to pick up a hearing aid for you in the near future… Partial collapse of the left lung, so from now on you are prohibited from any heavy physical activity. Necrosis of two thirds of the liver, so no more heavy drinking in the near future for you, at least until most of the liver is restored, about two years at least. And lastly, a contusion of the right kidney, we've managed to staunch the internal bleeding, but at the moment it has lost half of its functionality, so drink lots of water and no heavy lifting. Furthermore, with the damage to your liver and kidney, we might need to limit any pain medication."

After that, the doctor turned the sheet over, continuing to list Jonathan's many injuries and wounds. "The joint on your right knee was also injured, though as to why and how we still have no idea. Though, with the damage to the tendon, most likely, you will now need a walking stick from now on too. An injury in your stomach caused some internal bleeding, we managed to stop it, at the moment, but expect some bloody stool for some time. Sadly, this is the last relatively good news that I have… On the electrocardiogram, we found some anomalous reading from your left ventricle. It's not enough to indicate any damage to your heart, but it can potentially obscure any future diagnoses of problems in your heart." The doctor took a deep breath before continuing,

"Due to necrosis of the ring finger and little finger on your left foot, they had to be amputated. In addition, we've diagnosed a complete loss of sensitivity and control in the foot and toes of the right foot. They are alive thankfully, but dysfunctional, so we did not see the need to amputate them at the moment. But, from now on, you will have to carefully monitor their condition and to treat any injury very seriously. Exhaustion of the body, moderate level of dehydration, pancytopenia and…"

"In other words? Do put it briefly…" Jonathan expressed a desire for the doctor to summarize his findings. At these words, the doctor stopped talking and exhaled, choosing his words carefully.

"In other words," The doctor's gaze then involuntarily moved to Jonathan's left foot, which has lost two fingers and is completely wrapped in bandages at the moment. "While none of your wounds are fatal, in the aggregate, there is not a single intact system or organ in your body. I… By all the rules, I'll have to declare you partially disabled."

"Hah." At the doctor's verdict, Jonathan just leaned back and closed his eyes.

The doctor opened his mouth to say something but stopped, feeling very uncomfortable. The doctor knew that few people actually wanted to hear that they were now disabled. Especially a young man who was not yet twenty years old...

"I got off lightly," Despite the doctor's expectations, Jonathan was not depressed. "In other words, I will live."

"Yes, you can return to your daily life, albeit with some… restrictions, at least for some time. Perhaps after a few years, your wounds would heal, most of them at least." The doctor was somewhat uncomfortable talking about it. However, if the patient themselves did not pay much attention to it, then why should he? It would be counterproductive, to say the least. "Normally, I would now give you a referral to the commission, to receive some help for your disability, but… in the current conditions, I'm afraid such a thing will be impossible for the foreseeable future."

"Hmm, definitely." Jonathan turned his gaze to the side, looking out of the only window in the room at the ruins that is the city outside. "By the way, I was already told that Cinder…"

"Cinder! That girl! You should really scold her." The doctor immediately threw his hands up, seemingly intimately familiar with the girl. Or, at the very least, in a negative way. "She's been harassing the nurse to be let in. And if she followed her previous actions, she's now standing outside the door, eavesdropping. I had promised that I would let her inside as soon as I can be sure that you could meet visitors before she would stop harassing me."

"And? I think you are already convinced of that at least, so she should stop trying to badger you," Jonathan smiled and, as it turned out almost an instant later, the doctor was right.

Cinder was really listening in to the conversation in the room, literally pressing her ear into the door. After which, as soon as she heard the code words, the doctor saying yes, the door, in the literal sense of the word, was torn off its hinges.

Before he could comment on the act of vandalism, Jonathan felt himself being crushed by all the small mass that is Cinder, who had embraced him. However, despite the forcefulness of the hug, it was so carefully done that it did not come into contact with any of the bandages that were tightly wrapped around Jonathan's body.

Jonathan, overcoming his injured body, raised his arms, hugging Cinder tightly in response. Throwing the doctor a glance, which the doctor correctly assessed the meaning of, the doctor left Jonathan and Cinder alone after throwing a mournful glance at the destroyed door.

Now left alone, Jonathan only hugged Cinder harder, planning to tell her something encouraging right now. However, Cinder spoke first.

Jonathan did not even understand at first what she was talking about, hearing only an indistinct jumble of words from the girl buried in his chest. The murmur then repeated again and again, making Jonathan chuckle a little, before trying to push Cinder away from him so that he could actually hear her words. However, he did not succeed.

Although Cinder did not squeeze him too hard even when using every drop of the power bestowed on her by Aura, Cinder had hugged Jonathan so tightly that, most likely, even a hydraulic press could not budge her.

However, even after failing to dislodge Cinder, Jonathan still managed to get some kind of reaction from the girl. Cinder lifted her head a little, after which, looking into Jonathan's eyes, she started speaking slowly.

"Please don't die," Cinder didn't cry as she said that, but Jonathan could feel her body shaking shallowly from her sobs.

"Please, just don't die", - Cinder repeated these words… like a mantra, a kind of prayer. It is not clear to whom she was praying to, but she was doing it with fervent purpose. "Just do not die."

"I'm not going to." Jonathan just smiled, - "I will not leave you."

"Just don't die." Seemingly not even listening to Jonathan, Cinder repeated her prayer once more before burying herself deeper into the hug before muttering something. However, Jonathan already knew what Cinder was saying.

"I won't." Jonathan smiled and hugged Cinder back. "I will not leave you alone…"

***

Captain Aisa was not only the oldest among the captains, but also the oldest among the soldiers, if not the oldest of all the inhabitants of Mount Glenn, actually. Well, after what had happened, that might not be as much of an achievement anymore. But, never in her long life did she let anyone guess her real age. What can she say, until now, people kept guessing that she was only forty years old, which immensely flattered the captain's ego, not that she would be telling anyone that anytime soon. Nevertheless, it was less than half her real age.

However, in the last few days, many unexpected things have happened, and most of them are not at all positive. One of these things was the fact that for the first time, if anyone saw the state the Captain is in right now, they would not mistake her actual age. She was definitely feeling her age right now, at least.

However, there would be no one in Mount Glenn who would insult her for it. The people of Mount Glenn have much better things to do right now than discuss the age of the female Captain.

Life at Mt Glenn was never overly joyful, but it was always calm at the very least. Yes, no one liked Bor and his dark deeds, but as corrupt as he is, he at least understood that he shouldn't step on the military's toes and was not stupid enough to stiff the military's budget. Sure, Aisa herself only had a modest amount of influence outside the army itself. But, such a state of affair, in the end, suited everyone.

People always prefer the status quo. So what if they have to put up with an idiot who likes to play act as a king? Dealing with an idiot is leagues better than having to eke out a life among the Grimm in the wasteland. So what if they have to turn a blind eye if some Faunus was thrown in jail on some bogus charge? They were able to live comfortably, so it didn't matter.

And then, overnight, everything collapsed.

First, the army was shaken and fell into a panic by the information about the Super-horde, then the loss of the general. A procession of events which led to them to commit a coup. Something that almost blindsided them to the Super-horde, as the coup grew into a desperate defense against the endless horde of Grimm. Back then, Aisa had resigned herself to a grisly death in that meat grinder. But, when it seemed as if all was lost, a boy had come out of nowhere and delivered a miracle, saving them all.

Who knows what he did!

He just did something, something so incredible and monstrous that if Aisa had been a little, just one percent less calm and balanced, she would be screaming her head off and running around like a headless chicken at the absurdity of it all. Still, what did he do?

If it was a semblance of some kind, then it was probably the greatest semblance in… Well, in the last seventy years at least, Not since King Oswald, the last King of Vale, who managed to single-handedly destroy the army of Mantle and Mistral in the decisive battle of the Great War and the Super-horde that such an act had attracted, had such a powerful Semblance existed.

Still, in the entire written history of Remnant, all three thousand years of it, only these two such monstrous semblances existed. In other words, it was a semblance whose mere existence would make the whole world tremble with horror and anticipation. What intrigues the four Kingdoms would play to secure themselves against it? Another Great War could break out to secure such a thing!

Such a Semblance was more than just a weapon, it was an absolute power with which one Kingdom could force the whole world to bow before them. Something with the help of which not just the borders of states or the form of government, but the very landscape of the planet, could be changed at the whim of a person.

Even if using it would cause a severe backlash on its user, sending him to intensive care for a week or worse, it meant little. Just the threat of such destruction was enough to make the world tremble with horror and desire.

But, if it was not a semblance, then what? Some kind of advanced Technology? Oh, that was much worse.

Atlas once boasted that it would be creating a bomb capable of wiping out a city from the face of the earth, to defeat the Grimm, of course. But as far as Aisa knew, that project was still far from complete. At least if it was a bomb, some kind of advanced technology, it is something that could be believed, that could be understood. How does one explain the summoning of meteorites?

Aisa sighed for the umpteenth time before standing up, walking towards the window as she lit a cigarette. With a calming drag, she took a look out the window at the ruins of her city.

Most of the city was nothing but ruins, at the very least it also served as a gravestone to the Super-horde, including the dragon thank the Brothers. Yes, it was not a perfect result, but it could be called nothing less than a miracle that anyone had survived the ordeal at all.

More and more survivors are being found from the rubble or from their bunkers, and the wounded are being seen to, but even so, at best Mount Glenn had lost a fourth of its population, at worst a third. Seven hundred thousand casualties is a terrible figure for any disaster, but a ridiculously low price for the calamity that had just passed them by. It was supposed to be all of them.

Aisa took another drag from her cigarette, inhaling the bitter, black smoke that would surely cause any other person to have an asthma attack, before letting it pass through the open window.

It was such an incredible, miraculous event that there was not even a word that is suitable to define it in the world, suitable to describe such an event. It was such an incredible event that...

That Captain Aisa did not know what she needed to do next.

The people were saved, and it was great… But what next?

What should she do about the refugee? The food to feed them? The clothing to make sure that they don't freeze to death? Jobs for the adults? How to educate the children?

Through the great efforts of the interim government, a mantle that the army had reluctantly picked up because no one else was found who would agree to bear such a burden, they had managed to erect temporary shelters and organize the rationing of necessities. And by seizing everything they managed to collect from the vaults and ruins of the city, to establish a cordon to drive out the remnants of the Grimm from the city. But… but that was all they could do.

The main problem with the Grimm has always been that they never stopped their attacks. If any horde, no matter how large or strong, broke through the walls, the settlement was already doomed. The Grimm were essentially endless in their numbers, if even one Grimm, attracted by the despair and negativity of people made its way through the walls, it only meant that the fear and negativity of people would grow enough to facilitate the creation of a horde, concentrating Grimm from all around, which increased fear among people and so on and so forth. It was an endless vicious circle, even if one successfully fought off two or three attacks it was incredibly difficult, almost impossible to completely turn the tide of the battle without calming the people's fear out of the already increasing loop of Grimm attacks.

And Mount Glenn, even after having accomplished the impossible, surviving a Super-horde, was no exception. In fact, they are still tethering on the edge of the abyss.

How long will it take before the euphoria of surviving, for the happiness of the people to subside, and they realize how dire of a situation they are in?

And as soon as that happens…

Aisa shook off the ashes on the end of her cigarette, before drawing another drag of the bitter smoke, after which, unexpectedly, she coughed loudly.

The captain continued to cough for a few seconds more before stopping and spitting the blood-streaked saliva into the ashtray as she stared into the distance.

It was a miraculous event, their salvation, which could not be called anything other than a real miracle, the destruction of the Super-horde, caused an effect akin to euphoria to spread among the people, displacing all the fears and anxieties that had prevailed upon them until that moment. A feeling that was shared by the army as they scavenged for food and as they drove away the remnants of the Super-horde from yet another street or block, recapturing the seemingly lost territories of the destroyed city.

Such euphoria had lasted for a week, and if the Brothers were merciful, it would be enough for another week or two. But their resources were not endless, just like the joy of people in contrast to the endless Grimm. As soon as the supplies ran out, the reality of the situation they were in would begin to grow. What then?

The walls of Mount Glenn were destroyed, completely useless, as were ninety percent of all the fortified points, turrets and bunkers. Their resources, be it water or clothing, were ridiculously small and there was virtually no other place to get them. At least, not without having to walk through Grimm infested lands for weeks. The army, although it had only lost relatively little of its men, only about a third of them, had lost most of its weapons and ammunition. Never mind the fact that, due to the need to head the interim government, and the loss of most of the army's chain of command, there's no one suitable to act as commanders for what remains of the army…

Mount Glenn, its entire population, was in free fall. Now they are feeling an incredible spiritual lift from their free flight in the clear sky, but soon, very soon, they will realize that the ground is approaching. And they did not have a parachute.

But what could be done in this case?

General evacuation? Might as well just start shooting the survivors of Mount Glenn. It would be quicker at least.

Hundreds of kilometers to Vale, through the wilderness and among the Grimm, with millions of panicking civilians that have no food or weapon to defend themselves. It would be another miracle if even one survivor in a thousand would reach Vale.

But what else could they do other than the doomed march into the unknown?

In fact, the only choice that the interim government had to debate over was only in where and when they would die. Their incredible salvation from the clutches of the Super-horde had postponed their death, but did not cancel it at all.

Aisa sucked in the poisoned smoke once more.

The choice was only whether they would go on a doomed campaign now, interrupting the euphoria of people from their salvation, but with a chance where some might survive. Or to do it a little later, when they might be able to prepare a little more, to perhaps find more supplies, but without the buffer of people's joy at their first leg of the journey? The hardest part of it all?

After all, they don't even have enough transport to transport the supplies that they do have, never mind the children. There's hardly twenty or thirty intact working vehicles in the entirety of Mount Glenn.

It's funny, but even the seemingly most incredible of miracles, in the end only led to the next seemingly impossible test. Aisa was still holding on to hope for another miracle to save them from this trap. But…

Sucking in what remains of the cigarette, already mostly ash, Aisa put out the lit butt on the ashtray, looking out the window.

To stay and starve to death or a march to their doom. Was that her only choice?

After all, even a strength comparable to that of King Oswald's will not help her in this.

Could it?

Aisa was frozen in shock suddenly for a second.

King Oswald, the Great War, the Euphoria of the people and a choice between two equally bad options, both of which will eventually end in the destruction of almost the entire population of Glenn.

Aisa was deep in thought as she looked at the city outside the window, before slowly nodding.

Was her decision logical? Of course not, there was nothing logical about it.

Was it justified? Perhaps not either, what she would be asking was too much.

Was it doable? It is highly unlikely, it is not called a miracle for no reason.

But… but did she have any other choice? No.

Once, she had already seen before her eyes a sight that was nothing less than a miracle, something that denies the very concept of what is possible and what is real.

A miracle, and all of it depends on one boy, a boy who was now lying in the only intensive care unit in the whole city with his body in shambles.

But, it needed to be done.

Aisa quickly put on her army coat, and then hurried to meet her fellow captains.

Of course, it was Aisa who had the last voice, the one to decide everything even when she was not the one in the highest office in the military, she was a mere Captain. Unfortunately, it was impossible for General Zoen to take the office. Even when he was the highest surviving officer, and it was only logical for him to lead the provisional government, nevertheless, the accusations against him were real. He was really part of the web of friends of that damnable Bor, may he rot in hell. And now, the interim government would not dare to upset the population by making him the leader, fearing to upset the delicate balance of the people and risk attracting the Grimm with unpopular decisions.

And so, it was her that had to make the difficult decisions. Still, something like the future of what remains of Mount Glenn, such a decision could not be made alone.

***

Cinder had not let go of her grip on Jonathan until she herself nevertheless succumbed to the influence of Morpheus, and fell asleep on Jonathan's bed. Jonathan himself did not have enough strength, neither physical nor mentally, to push Cinder away from himself, and therefore, by moving carefully a little to the side, he finally managed to put the girl next to him, before exhaling and slowly moving his gaze to his legs.

On one of his legs, he now lacked some toes. The other leg, after some checks, now did not obey him well. The leg practically could not bend at the knee, and he couldn't feel anything on his foot. His condition was nothing else than bad, of course, but it was much better than any other outcome coming out of the stunt he just pulled. It was supposed to cost him his life after all, so anything else is a stark improvement, actually.

Just in case, Jonathan tried to listen to the noise the sleeping Cinder produced, first with one ear, then with the other, before concluding that he really could not hear anything from one side.

The rest of the injuries were internal, damage done to his organs, and Jonathan could only judge them by the outward signs he felt. Dizziness and weakness, most likely caused by the anemia brought on by the lost blood, partially also because of his collapsed lung. It was an unpleasant sensation, if he was to be honest. It was as if when he was trying to breathe deeply, but some kind of lump prevented him from breathing in until the end.

Looking down at himself, Jonathan noted that one half of his chest was not moving the same way when breathing. It was not so noticeable, especially if he dressed properly, but still, the sight of it still created a somewhat unpleasant picture.

Ha, that's what he gets, for playing hero.

Jonathan threw his head back on the pillow and smiled.

After all, he was arrogant. An almost expected vice of all of those in the bani Bonisagus. But, if he were asked whether he regrets it or not, he would probably say that he didn't. Perhaps only right now that he thought so and, perhaps in the future, he will grow to regret what had happened. And of course, he's not that delusional, to see himself as a Messiah of sorts and was not that heroic to be willing to die to save other people.

But, probably for the first time in a long time… Jonathan understood that he had done the right thing. Not good, but the right thing.

And even if in the Order there would be no shortage of people who would criticize him and his decisions, to call him an idiot, wimp or something like that. And even if he could admit to himself that they would be right, he would not take back his decision, incredibly foolish it might have been.

Jonathan still felt a strange inner… calmness. It was like, for the first time in a long time, he actually did something right.

He was not stupid enough to assume that he was able to save everyone. No, the very best that he could have done was not enough. His mightiest blow was not the most precise, he had destroyed thousands of houses, and he might even have buried dozens, maybe hundreds of people that could have been saved. He had killed people by his own hands because of his selfish desire to do the right thing.

As he was thinking about what he had done, a familiar image of the bleeding policeman that he had shot resurfaced in his mind yet again. But, for some reason, now Jonathan was thinking about what he had done as… Right.

The usual recriminations that usually come from his subconscious were now silent. There was no doubt in his head, no more troubling doubts, no itching reflections. There was only emptiness and… some strange realization.

Here he is, Jonathan Goodman. A good man.

And here he was faced with a disaster with countless victims and innumerable horror surrounding him.

And he, Jonathan Goodman… had done something.

It might even be the wrong thing, and he's probably doing it badly, he might even be responsible for huge losses of life and widespread collateral damage. He might even be doing things in the wrong way, all the while blindly believing in himself even with his naivety.

And yet, he was doing something.

Even when doesn't know the reason why he was doing it, he was still doing something.

There was no longer a door to Jonathan's room, so someone knocked politely on the wall next to his room before walking into the hospital room. The person entering the room was looking at Jonathan intently, forcing him to turn his head towards the opening.

However, Jonathan was slow to react, the act of locating the source of noise a harder task for him. Having lost his hearing from one of his ears, he could not immediately determine the place from which the sound had come from. In fact, the only reason that he had turned towards the door was because he had puzzled out, logically, that the only reason someone would knock was because they were entering his room.

And so Jonathan saw that, from the dimly lit corridor, whose bulbs were probably now powered by some kind of emergency generator, a figure of a rather tall and elderly woman entering his room. From what Jonathan could see, the woman was at least sixty years old. Although, maybe, the stressful surroundings had made her look older, Jonathan was sure that the woman in front of him was no more than forty or, at the most, fifty years old, it was just that the large circles under her eyes and the stress wrinkles aggravated by her lack of sleep definitely added at least a dozen or even more years to her appearance.

However, despite her apparent age, the woman still appeared extremely stately and respectable with her coat that looked like a veteran soldier's. That, and the rank insignia on the coat, indicated that she was clearly not a random granny who accidentally got lost in this building, but a high-ranking member of the military.

After walking a couple of steps into the room, the woman stopped in front of Jonathan's bed. The woman immediately adopted the posture of a soldier facing a superior, not from Jonathan's presence, most likely, but rather out of habit, driven by her instincts from long years of training. It lasted barely an instant before the woman relaxed her posture as she cast a strange glance at Jonathan's injured self.

He responded to her strange actions with a studying glance. But unless he wanted to use arcane means, he did not notice anything special about her except for what his normal senses could tell. That she was an old woman in the military with long gray hair, either due to age or her natural hair color, and that under her coat she was holstering a pistol or some other kind of small arms.

"Jonathan Goodman," The woman nodded to herself as she addressed Jonathan. "I'm Captain Aisa Moira and the current representative of the interim government of Mount Glenn. We have not met before, but I've heard a lot about what you did for Mount Glenn."

"Nice to meet you," Jonathan would have tried to get up for propriety's sake, or at least stretch out his hand for a handshake, that is if he was not so weak and not with Cinder snorting at his side, "I suppose you have a lot of questions…"

"Naturally," Aisa then looked at Cinder before nodding to herself. "But first, we are facing another problem which, I hope, you will be able to help us solve. But such a dialogue must be carried out without any other ears."

Brushing Cinder's hair with his hand, Jonathan smiled, "She is deep asleep and even if she was not, I doubt that whatever this discussion will turn out to be, it would be something that I could not entrust her with. Plus, it's not like I'll be able to go anywhere else at the moment anyway."

Hearing Jonathan's arguments, Aisa looked away a little as she thought of a way to move Jonathan or even Cinder without aggravating Jonathan's injuries before quickly giving up.,

"Okay, but the contents of this dialogue will not leave the confines of this room."

Glancing down at the door on the floor, Jonathan sighed and shrugged. "At least it would not be from my own mouth."

Apparently satisfied with his answer, the captain made her way next to Jonathan's bed, to minimize the chance of anyone overhearing their discussion. After which she looked at him carefully from top to bottom and, once again coming to some kind of decision, began to speak. "At least before we talk of anything else, I should express my gratitude for what you did. Whatever you did back then, you saved us all, and the people of mount Glenn are now alive only thanks to you."

"Hmm," Jonathan, not expecting such a start to their dialogue, could only look away in embarrassment before trying quickly to change the subject. " Thank you for your kind words, but what about the problem you're wanting to discuss?"

"The problem is that it was not enough," The woman said sharply, after which she softened her tone a little. "It's not your fault, and you did your best. In fact, without your intervention, we would all be dead right now. But, the destruction of the Super-horde is not enough to save the people."

"Yeah, I've thought about it," Jonathan exhaled.

Of course, he had saved these people from a grisly death… But only for a while.

"And, to avoid making this a long diatribe, we now only have two options if we want to survive." Aisa talked clearly and straight to the point. " Either, we evacuate the city, which will kill at least ninety percent of the surviving population. Or to sit still in the city, waiting for a miracle that, if it doesn't come, will kill one hundred percent of the population in the end."

"I understand," Jonathan sighed, - "Do you need help with the evacuation? I can do it, but… not now, I will need at least another two or three days to recover before I can do anything to help."

"No, there's no need for that." Aisa shook her head, - "As I said before, we 'had' two options. But… There now exists a third option."

Jonathan nodded silently, feeling Cinder stir under his arm, and then turned a little to the side to be able to hear better, "I'm sorry, I can't hear anything in the other ear."

"Yes, I know, the doctors have told me." Aisa, completely unashamed of violating a patient's right to privacy, just nodded. "The third option… I'll say this outright, it is insane and in other conditions I would say that it is impossible. But no other option has the possibility of saving everyone."

Jonathan nodded, "So… What do you need me to do?"

At Jonathan's words, Aisa just turned her gaze towards the sleeping Cinder and at the broken door, before sighing and continued talking. "Jonathan Goodman, what do you know about the history of Remnant?"