Lucas knew something was wrong the moment he tried to move.
The command reached his body.
The response didn't come.
He lay in the hospital bed staring at his hands, willing them to clench. The fingers twitched weakly, then went still.
Panic rose in his chest, sharp and immediate.
"No," he whispered.
The door slid open quietly.
The doctor entered with a tablet held too carefully, like it might shatter.
"Lucas," she said gently.
He didn't look at her. "Turn the frame on."
She stopped.
"Turn it on," he repeated, louder now. "I can still work. I can still—"
"You can't," she said.
Lucas turned his head slowly.
The look on her face told him everything.
"The neural damage has progressed," she continued. "Your spine can't handle direct feedback anymore. If you re-enter the frame—"
"I'll die," Lucas finished.
Silence filled the room.
Lucas laughed once, short and broken. "That's new."
She didn't smile.
"You saved a lot of people," she said.
Lucas closed his eyes.
"I didn't finish," he replied.
They removed the Aegis frame that afternoon.
Lucas watched through the glass as technicians dismantled it piece by piece. His armor. His legs. His reason.
Metal limbs disconnected.
Cables coiled away.
The frame was reduced to parts.
Just like him.
The city honored him a week later.
Ceremony. Speeches. Applause.
Lucas sat in a reinforced chair at the front, unable to feel his lower body at all now. His hands trembled slightly in his lap.
They called him The Last Stand.
They said he embodied sacrifice.
Lucas stared straight ahead.
Because if he turned his head, he might scream.
That night, alone in his room, Lucas tried to sit up without assistance.
Pain exploded through his back.
He collapsed onto the bed, gasping.
Tears soaked into the pillow.
"I stayed," he whispered. "I stayed every time."
The room didn't answer.
Days turned into weeks.
The missions continued without him.
Structures failed.
Casualty numbers rose.
Lucas watched reports from his bed, jaw clenched.
He could hear his father's voice in his head.
Heroes don't leave.
Lucas laughed bitterly.
"They didn't give me a choice," he muttered.
One evening, the Aegis representative returned.
"We're shutting down the frame project," she said. "Too costly. Too dangerous."
Lucas didn't respond.
"We want you to consult," she added. "Tactics. Strategy. Training."
Lucas turned his head slowly.
"You want me to tell others when to stay behind," he said.
She nodded. "You understand it better than anyone."
Lucas stared at the ceiling.
After a long moment, he said, "Only if they listen when I tell them to leave."
She didn't answer.
That was answer enough.
Lucas lay awake that night, staring into darkness.
He could no longer stand.
He could no longer stay.
And that terrified him more than any collapsing city ever had.
Because for the first time in his life…
Someone else would have to take his place.