I'm Sure

Sparta watched Clayton wag his head around. If his broken arms had not yet been healing, he would definitely have beaten the other man black and blue.

"You dog-bred bastard."

After cursing, he closed his eyes and stopped looking at him. Out of sight, out of mind.

As long as he did not look at that infuriating, punchable face, he would not get angry and could calm down.

Watching the two trade barbs the moment they met, Jayce turned to Clayton and said,

"Sparta is injured. Leave the hospital room immediately."

Clayton straightened his bent waist, planted his hands on his hips, raised his brows high, and refused in a puzzled tone,

"That sounds good, but I refuse."

"Sparta is my 'good comrade.' As his comrade, it is perfectly normal for me to stay here with him."

What he said sounded reasonable enough, but he bit down especially hard on the words "good comrade," as though he wanted to crush his teeth.

After saying that, Clayton sat down on the edge of the other side of the bed, ignoring both Jayce's and Sparta's opinions.

He stretched out his right index finger and poked Sparta's left arm, then poked the broken right leg hanging in the air in its sling again.

"I wish your whole family good health and all the best! Did those giants beat your brain stupid?!"

"If you poke me with that lousy finger again, once I recover, the first thing I'll do is snap your finger!"

Feeling threads of pain from his arm and leg, Sparta immediately burst into furious curses.

He was normally an easygoing, cheerful person, but whenever he faced Clayton, that brain-dead idiot, even the best temper could be ignited in an instant.

Over the past eighteen years, he could count the number of times he had cursed on one hand. Clayton alone accounted for ninety percent of them.

Hearing that, Clayton raised both hands high above his head in a gesture of surrender.

"Are you angry? How scary~"

His lips pouted, and an expression of both disdain and lewdness appeared on his face. Fear was the one thing missing.

Sparta lay on the bed, panting heavily with rage. His face beneath the bandages had turned red, the color spreading all the way to his neck.

He clenched his molars tightly, his furious eyes glaring at Clayton as if he wanted to kill him with his stare.

Jayce sighed helplessly, rose from the edge of the bed, and strode over to Clayton.

"Sparta and I both believe you should not be here."

"What does it matter? We're a team."

Jayce did not want to hear his explanation. He reached out, grabbed Clayton by the back of the neck, and pushed him toward the hospital room door.

"Ow—ow—"

"Please be gentler. My neck hurts right now. It really feels like it's about to break."

Clayton protested through gritted teeth as pain twisted his face.

Jayce said nothing and simply kept shoving Clayton out the door.

He pulled the door open, kicked Clayton in the butt, and sent him flying out of the hospital room.

Then, with a bang, Jayce slammed the hospital room door shut.

Clayton staggered several steps down the corridor before steadying himself. For a moment, every alien doctor, nurse, and patient turned curious looks his way.

Clayton clenched his right fist, swung it in front of him, and barked a threat at everyone present.

"What are you looking at?!"

"Keep looking, and I'll gouge out all your eyes!"

The moment he said that, every gaze disappeared. They lowered their heads and went back to what they were doing as though nothing had happened.

Seeing how frightened they were, Clayton's pride swelled with satisfaction. He nodded approvingly and left while whistling.

Inside the hospital room, Sparta slightly turned his head toward Jayce.

"There's been a question on my mind."

Jayce walked to the bed and sat down, quietly watching him.

"Is it about Clayton?"

Sparta gently shook his head and continued,

"Not him. You."

Jayce pointed a finger at himself, somewhat unable to believe it.

"Me? Me?"

Sparta nodded lightly in confirmation.

"Yes, you."

Hearing that, Jayce shifted his butt into a more comfortable position and leaned forward slightly, signaling Sparta to continue.

"If you have a question, I'll answer it seriously."

Sparta took a deep breath. His gaze swept up and down Jayce's body, and even his brows beneath the bandages furrowed.

His voice was quiet, but serious.

"Are you really a Viltrumite?"

Jayce froze on the spot, disbelief appearing on his face.

He had thought Sparta would ask something about the mission or his past. He never expected it to be merely... this?

His expression quickly returned to calm, and he gave a silent laugh.

"Of course I'm a Viltrumite, and a genuine Viltrumite who has lived for over five hundred years."

He possessed the same abilities as other Viltrumites. Under such circumstances, that was enough to prove he was a Viltrumite.

Physical strength and raw power were things no other aliens could imitate.

Sparta's question also piqued Jayce's interest, and he asked curiously,

"Why ask that? Do I not look like a Viltrumite to you?"

Sparta did not answer. His eyes merely held an expression that said, What do you think?

He did not allow infighting between recruits and always stepped in to stop it as soon as it happened.

He respected every recruit, even showing respect to Luke after he had become a corpse.

He had led the recruits to avoid the Anti-Viltrum Alliance's pursuit. To put it bluntly, that meant being deserters.

When Sparta had suffered grievous injuries, Jayce had stayed by his bedside.

Was that really the attitude a Viltrumite should have?

As a superior, he should have been ruthless and cold-blooded, not like this.

Jayce grew somewhat uncomfortable under Sparta's stare. He turned his head slightly, avoiding the probing gaze.

After a moment of silence, he suddenly spoke. His voice was lower than before, and he secretly watched Sparta's reaction from the corner of his eye.

"This is common. It's not just me. Almost every squad in Recruit Company is like this."

His gaze drifted restlessly, as if he were trying to conceal the unease in his heart.

Sparta fixed his eyes on Jayce's face and replied in a disbelieving tone,

"Are you sure?"

"Duken told me that on his first day after joining the company, his squad captain broke several of his ribs."

In an instant, Jayce scratched at the corner of his eye, picked at the bridge of his nose, looked at the ceiling, then looked at the floor.

He looked busy, yet it was impossible to tell what he was busy doing.

"I'm sure."

"Have I been here too long? You're injured, so you should get some proper rest."

"I won't disturb you. I'm leaving."

He did not give Sparta a second chance to speak. He strode forward, opened the door, and slipped away as if fleeing.

Bang!

The only sound in the room was the door closing.

Sparta looked at the tightly shut door, his brows furrowing as he fell into deep thought.

The more Jayce acted like that, the more obvious it was that there was a serious problem.

His superior was hiding something. Sparta did not know what it was, but it was definitely no small matter.