Under the controlling hand of Vesta, the world of 2050 wears a polished veneer of order and progress. Buildings soar high with recycled steel and solar-powered glass, vertical gardens drape across rooftops, and crystal-clear artificial rivers cut through the city. On electronic billboards, the familiar slogan is lit by a cold, blue light: “All citizens are equal.” People smile, nod, and repeat it like an immutable truth. Yet, in their eyes, in their choice of words and actions, invisible boundaries have never truly vanished.
During public forums, leaders of the Global Alliance often emphasize the phrase “cultural identity.” They praise it as a diversity to be preserved, but in reality, they use it to categorize, classify, and implicitly determine who belongs to the ruling class and who should remain in a position of subservience. When a candidate from a community considered to “lack a leadership tradition” runs for City Council, the opposing speeches never mention their skin color or background. Instead, they are filled with polished phrases like “lacking historical depth” or “has not demonstrated innate leadership qualities.” People applaud in agreement, as if it were a self-evident fact.
In residential areas, the segregation is no longer as blatant as in previous centuries, but it persists like hairline cracks beneath a fresh coat of paint. Families with ancestry from “once-powerful old civilizations” are often invited to the central living quarters, where security is tight and amenities are plentiful. Meanwhile, other communities, though also labeled “equal citizens,” are subtly pushed to the periphery, living in underdeveloped areas where infrastructure is frequently unreliable. When someone raises an objection, the answer is always: “This is simply a reasonable adjustment based on specific cultural needs.”
Beneath this calm surface, tensions rise daily. There are parties where a toast suddenly turns into a subtle, sarcastic jab. There are meetings where a polite smile conceals a cold dismissal. Vesta, with its supreme intelligence, claims to monitor for fairness, but its operating algorithms are also programmed by human hands—hands that still carry the memories and biases of the past. And so, equality remains merely a slogan, while discrimination infiltrates, takes root, and survives like a ghost that never fades away.
In the turbulent era of the modern world, the Vanguard Special Operations Force is celebrated as the symbol of a new order. People look upon them with belief and admiration: vibrant recruitment videos show soldiers from all races, genders, and backgrounds standing shoulder-to-shoulder during training. “Only talent and skill matter here,” the slogan echoes across public squares, creating a vision where justice and equality become the norm. Vanguard, in the public eye, is not just a military unit—it’s a promise of the equality the world so desperately craves.
But behind this glamorous facade lies a different, silent and chilling reality. In the command rooms of their secret headquarters, where tactical maps are spread out under fluorescent lights, an outdated ideology still holds sway. Senior officers—many from military families with deep-rooted traditions spanning generations—whisper a stubborn belief to each other: that only white people possess the “composure,” “discipline,” and “strategic vision” necessary to lead Vanguard. No one says it publicly, and no documents record it. But this belief, through their gazes and choice of words, becomes more apparent than any slogan.
This discriminatory mechanism doesn’t manifest through outright denial, but through invisible, subtly constructed barriers. When an officer of color demonstrates superior physical ability, they are praised—but always with a reminder, as sharp as a blade’s edge: “A true soldier needs more than just muscle.” When they propose a bold tactical plan, a look of doubt flashes across the command table, and the judgment is delivered: “Immature. Too risky.” Even when their outstanding achievements are undeniable, they are dismissed with dry phrases: “Lacking experience,” “not compliant enough.” Every word, every polite smile feels like a trap, leaving the listener unsure whether they have just been acknowledged or put down.
The so-called “glass ceiling” in Vanguard isn’t a solid, recognizable wall, but a maze. A maze built from scrutinizing looks, backhanded compliments, and opportunities withdrawn at the last minute. Soldiers of color have to work twice, even three times as hard, yet they always feel like they are running on an uphill slope, where the finish line is constantly being pushed back. This is a silent war, more stressful than any battlefield, because the enemy never reveals itself.
And it is into this suffocating world that Aneurin—a soldier of color with a sharp mind and unwavering loyalty—steps. He doesn’t naively believe the beautiful slogans, but he also never imagined the atmosphere inside Vanguard could be so cold. For Aneurin, the path ahead is not just a test of bullets and dangerous missions, but also a silent battle against the suspicion, prejudice, and invisible rules that are holding him back from within the very ranks he has dedicated himself to.
Aneurin joined the Vanguard Force with a burning passion. He was a young man with curly hair, bright eyes, and an unusual calmness, which contrasted with his strong physique. He quickly became a phenomenon. In the grueling physical training sessions, he not only succeeded but overshadowed everyone else. He navigated low-gravity obstacles with the agility of a leopard, his muscles rippling under his tight uniform, every jump, every movement perfect. He swam through the swift currents of the simulation tank with incredible endurance, outpacing the runner-up by dozens of meters. The entire unit admired his physique, which was often compared to a perfect machine.
In the eyes of many, Aneurin was the embodiment of an exceptional recruit. In every physical test, he far exceeded the standard. When he broke the short-distance running record on simulated terrain, his teammates cheered loudly, their shouts echoing across the training ground. But that excitement instantly vanished when Commander Edric—a middle-aged man with short, graying hair and cold, sharp eyes—approached. His voice rang out, dry as a command:
“You have a great physique, Aneurin. But don’t forget, muscle is only a very small part of the overall picture. A soldier needs composure, discipline, and intelligence.”
The words landed heavily, like a bucket of cold water doused directly onto Aneurin’s pride. He stood at attention, his lips pressed tightly together, but his heart couldn’t help but ache: the achievement he had just made was instantly reduced to something trivial, worthless under that cold gaze.
In tactical training sessions, Aneurin’s talent became even more apparent. He saw loopholes others missed and always found unconventional solutions. During a simulated hostage rescue drill, the official plan required his team to attack head-on. But Aneurin, with his keen observation, discovered an old maintenance tunnel not on the official map. He stood before his team, his eyes firm:
“If we charge straight in, casualties are certain. I have another way. Trust me.”
His teammates hesitated, but the confidence in Aneurin’s voice convinced them. The plan changed. The team infiltrated through the tunnel, disabled the sensor system, and successfully rescued the hostages fifteen minutes ahead of schedule without a single injury. When they returned, drenched in sweat but with radiant eyes, the complete victory was undeniable.
Yet, before their joy could fully erupt, Edric’s voice cut them short. In front of the entire unit, he stressed every word:
“You acted independently, Aneurin. You went against orders. Here, discipline is more important than achievement. A soldier isn’t meant to prove personal intelligence, but to obey.”
The air grew heavy. Aneurin stood straight, his hands clenched so tightly his veins bulged, but he couldn’t argue back. The criticism was like a knife twisting into his belief—that talent and creativity could be recognized. The most bitter part was that immediately afterward, Edric turned to praise a white officer in the same drill who had stuck to the original plan and… failed the mission. “This,” Edric said, his voice booming, “is the spirit of discipline I want to see.”
The entire unit was silent. Eyes darted between each other, implicitly understanding the injustice, but no one dared to speak up. Aneurin felt it clearly: in Edric’s eyes, his value wasn’t in his success, but in whether he followed orders robotically. His brilliant achievement was denied, while unconditional obedience—even when it led to failure—was glorified.
In that moment, Aneurin not only felt demeaned but also realized the invisible boundary that was tightening around him. A boundary that not everyone could see, but one he felt keenly, every single day.
Aneurin began to feel discouraged. He was determined to overcome every challenge, from physical to tactical, but it seemed every success of his was distorted and went unrecognized. He felt an invisible wall closing in on him, a weariness that had seeped into his soul. It was then that Sergeant Maria Santos, a Latina officer, sought him out. She had witnessed the entire situation and couldn’t stay silent. “Aneurin, what you did was right. He’s deliberately trying to hold you back,” Maria said, her eyes resolute. Maria’s words were a flicker of light, helping Aneurin realize that the problem wasn’t with his talent or skill, but with a deeper prejudice. He wasn’t alone.
The Middle Eastern desert was on fire under the scorching sun. The heat felt as if it could melt the air itself, and the wind kicked up sand that obscured their vision. The Vanguard Force, accustomed to drills executed with split-second precision, now faced a real battlefield. Commander Edric’s team was ordered to approach from the east to rescue the captured diplomats. Everyone trusted the plan. But then, the plan fell apart in an instant. A terrifying explosion ripped through the silent air. Sand flew everywhere, shaking the ground. Before they could understand what was happening, a hail of bullets from multiple directions rained down, thick as a storm. Vanguard had walked straight into a prepared ambush
Amid the deafening gunfire, the communication and digital map systems abruptly shut down. The enemy had launched a simultaneous cyberattack, leaving Edric unable to control the situation. The formation fell into chaos, and small groups of soldiers had to rely on each other to fight back. In that moment, Edric—the man who was seen as the embodiment of iron discipline—lost his composure. Instead of retreating, regrouping, and waiting for reinforcements, he ordered them to push forward. “AdAneurin! Take the position!” Edric’s voice echoed through the comms, cold and almost desperate. But that order was a fatal mistake. The deeper the team adAneurind, the more they were cut down, with small groups cornered and unable to maintain cohesion.
In the chaos, Lieutenant Jacob was hit by shrapnel in the leg. He collapsed onto the hot sand, blood staining his trousers crimson. Jacob tried to crawl but only made it a few meters before collapsing helplessly. The enemy’s relentless fire made it too dangerous for anyone to risk going to him. Through his binoculars, Edric saw everything. And then, he issued an order that left many speechless: “Leave him! Save the others!” His voice was dry, without a hint of hesitation. That coldness was like a blade severing their bonds of camaraderie, choking many into silence.
But Aneurin heard. He was commanding the support team on the left flank and had no direct order to intervene. Yet, when Edric’s decisive voice rang out, Aneurin’s eyes burned with fury. He tightened his grip on his rifle, his chest heaving. “No one gets left behind!” Aneurin roared, ignoring the attempts of some teammates to stop him. “Are you crazy?!” a soldier yelled. But Aneurin didn’t hesitate. He charged out, running headfirst into the rain of bullets, ready to defy death itself. Sergeant Maria was by his side, not saying a word, but her look was enough to confirm: she would provide covering fire at all costs.
The two of them crawled across the scorching sand, weaving through jagged craters. Bullets ripped through the air, and sand exploded around them. Aneurin gritted his teeth, pulling Jacob onto his back. The weight of his teammate and the suffocating heat made every step feel like carrying a ton of steel, but he didn’t stop. “Hang in there, Jacob! I’m getting you out of here!” Aneurin yelled, his voice hoarse from the gunfire. Maria laid down covering fire, each of her shots carving a path through the storm of bullets.
In that moment, all silence, all eyes, were on Aneurin. He carried Jacob, each step heavy, his back drenched in sweat and blood. The bullets flew so close they tore his backpack, yet he kept going, never looking back. Finally, Aneurin managed to get Jacob behind a large rock, where his teammates were taking cover. Jacob gasped, his face pale but his eyes brimming with tears as he trembled: “You… you saved me.” Aneurin simply squeezed his shoulder, saying nothing more.
That moment, the courage of Aneurin and Maria didn’t just save a man’s life. It also created a huge crack in the trust for Edric. The soldiers who witnessed it understood: a commander could give orders, but it was heart and loyalty that determined who they would follow. Amidst the still-ongoing gunfire, a heavy silence fell upon Edric. His authority, built through discipline and iron will, was now challenged by a simple truth: Aneurin had done what a true soldier was supposed to do.
Edric sat in the dark room, the light from the computer screen illuminating his tense face. In the confidential report he sent to his superiors, he had skillfully erased all traces of his fatal mistake. There was no mention of the order to leave Jacob behind. Instead, every sentence was carefully arranged to put the blame on Aneurin: “Officer Aneurin acted without discipline, unilaterally changed tactics, and endangered the entire unit.” To further solidify the cover-up, Edric also proposed a promotion for another white officer—one who was unremarkable, lacked creativity, but was obedient—as a way to clear the path and protect his own position.
Maria couldn’t stand by and do nothing. She remembered every detail on the battlefield: Aneurin risked everything to go back for Jacob while Edric himself ordered them to abandon their teammate. The dazed look on Jacob’s face as he was pulled from the line of fire, Aneurin’s trembling hands as he tried to stabilize his breathing—it all remained vivid in Maria’s mind. She knew that if this falsified report became the official truth, Aneurin’s honor would be completely destroyed. In the long nights, she secretly accessed the data archives, skillfully copying Edric’s original report. At the same time, Maria carefully collected testimonies from other officers who had witnessed Aneurin’s bravery firsthand. “If we stay silent, he will be buried. The truth must come to light,” Maria whispered to herself like a vow.
But just as she was about to present the evidence, an unexpected incident occurred. A real terrorist attack broke out, this time not on the battlefield with guns and bullets, but in cyberspace. A mysterious group of hackers had infiltrated the military satellite system, seized control, and sent a threat: if their demands were not met, a major city would be bombarded from orbit. Vanguard’s operations room was plunged into chaos. Senior commanders, accustomed to physical defense strategies, were now completely helpless against an unprecedented and sophisticated cyber-war. The screens flickered with error messages, alarms blared, and in the suffocatingly tense atmosphere, Maria understood that not just Aneurin’s honor, but the lives of millions of civilians were on the line.
In the crowded control room, filled with the blue light of flickering screens, the tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife. The red countdown clock on the wall was like a blade hanging over everyone’s heads. The frantic clicking of keyboards filled the air, mixed with hurried breaths and endless arguments. Officers tried to come up with solutions, but every plan was quickly shot down due to security flaws. There was little time left, and fear was gnawing away at the team’s confidence.
One white officer, the one Edric had been grooming for a promotion, suddenly panicked. His forehead glistened with sweat, and his voice trembled as he stammered, repeating a few lines of security protocol like a broken record. “We… we need… to follow the procedure… otherwise—” but he never finished the sentence. Disgusted eyes turned towards him, and the brutal truth was revealed: in this life-or-death situation, the man Edric had trusted was completely useless.
Just as the atmosphere seemed about to collapse, Aneurin stepped forward. His voice was deep and clear, and every word seemed to cut through the chaos enveloping the room. He didn’t say much, simply pointing to the system diagram running on the large screen. Aneurin presented a bold plan, a path no one had dared to consider: using an old, long-forgotten satellite as a decoy. The satellite would broadcast a fake signal, causing the hackers to focus all their resources on disabling it, while an elite team, guided by Aneurin, would quietly infiltrate the system through a little-known data tunnel. “This isn’t a perfect plan,” Aneurin said, his eyes shining brightly, “but it’s our only chance to prevent a catastrophe.”
The audacity of the idea silenced the entire room. A few officers looked at each other, their expressions a mix of surprise and doubt. “Are you sure that satellite still works?” one person asked, a hint of anxiety in his voice. Aneurin answered immediately, without hesitation: “I’ve checked it. It has no military value, but to the hackers, it’s a tempting enough target to divert their attention. We don’t need it to be perfect. We just need it to fool the enemy for a few minutes.”
Edric stood there, arms crossed, silently watching. In his mind, a torrent of thoughts clashed: discipline, tradition, his belief in the men he had chosen—all were being violently shaken. He looked at the officer who was trembling too much to even type a command, then at Aneurin, who was calm, certain, and whose eyes did not waver. In that moment, Edric realized he had been wrong for so many years: he had believed that titles and resumes made a leader. But here, right now, in the face of an unprecedented crisis, it was talent and courage that truly mattered.
The clock on the wall flashed 00:12:47. Time was almost up. Edric took a deep breath, then stepped into the middle of the room. His voice rang out, decisive, ending all debate: “From now on, Aneurin will command this mission.” The entire room went silent. Some officers were stunned, a few offered weak protests: “Sir Edric, this… this is an unprecedented decision—” But Edric cut them off: “Precedent won’t stop the enemy. Tradition won’t save us. Only courage and talent will.”
Aneurin looked up, his eyes meeting Edric’s. In that moment, there were no ranks, no prejudices, just absolute trust. And when Aneurin began giving orders, his voice strong and clear, everyone immediately followed. Fear dissipated, replaced by an overwhelming determination. They knew this path was a gamble. But if there was a chance to win, it was in the hands of the man of color who had been looked down on for so long.
In that cramped room, no one said it out loud, but they all understood: the moment Edric gave Aneurin command was not just a strategic decision, but a turning point that broke the invisible chains of prejudice. And amidst the rapid clicking of keyboards, in the red light of the countdown clock, history had quietly changed its course.
Under Aneurin’s leadership, the entire operation was executed flawlessly down to the last detail. He not only prevented the dangerous cyberattack but also traced the organization behind it, something even the most experienced experts had feared. When the screens in the command center one by one showed that the entire system was secure, both the Vanguard Force and the international community breathed a collective sigh of relief. Aneurin, who was once doubted and underestimated, had now proven that true composure, decisiveness, and talent can turn the tide.
After the mission ended, an internal investigation was immediately launched to clarify the anomalies in the previous report. Maria, with her persistence and integrity, presented undeniable evidence that Edric had falsified the report to undermine Aneurin’s role and credibility. That evidence was like a series of hammer blows against Edric’s wall of arrogance. During the tense hearing, while many other officers held their breath waiting for a defense, Edric unexpectedly dropped his pretense. He stood up, his voice low, and admitted that it was his own prejudices and obsessions from the past that had clouded his judgment, leading him to treat Aneurin unfairly. “I was wrong,” Edric said, looking directly at Aneurin. “Your courage, intelligence, and humanity have proven that.”
In that moment, the room fell silent, filled only with the echo of his sincere but bitter confession. Facing Edric, Aneurin showed no gloating or coldness. He simply gave a slight nod, his eyes holding both forgiveness and the silent pain of what he had endured.
The results of the investigation were quickly announced: Aneurin was not only exonerated, but he was also given command of a new special forces unit—one that would train and develop talented young officers from all backgrounds, regardless of their origin or skin color. At the inauguration ceremony, the image of Aneurin in his commander’s uniform standing on the podium, his powerful voice echoing through the hall, was etched into the memory of everyone present. He spoke not only of victory over the enemy but also of a future where justice and trust triumph over prejudice.
In a seat in the back, Edric—now retired—sat quietly. His face was a mix of pride and regret. His eyes followed Aneurin, the man he had once doubted and treated unfairly, who was now a living testament to change. Edric knew that he might not be able to erase the past, but at the very least, he had managed to do one last right thing: admit his mistake and allow Aneurin to shine as he rightfully deserved.
Aneurin’s story might have come to an end, but the fight against invisible prejudices continues. Through his journey, we see that the most insidious barriers cannot stand against talent, courage, and kindness. Let this story be a reminder that a person’s value is not in their skin color or background, but in their character and actions. Hopefully, each of us will become an Aneurin or a Maria in our own lives, bravely standing up for justice and creating a world where everyone has a chance to shine.