VR Mock War IV

"Seriously, I need to work hard," I muttered, in the tone of a man who had just realized his minor problem was, in fact, the first domino in a chain leading to a catastrophic disaster of legendary proportions.

This was not strictly an exaggeration.

Behind me, the first-year battle line hummed with barely contained tension—that special kind of anxious energy that precedes either triumph or immediate catastrophe. In front of me, the battlefield stretched into the gloom, a shattered cityscape designed by someone who had clearly read too many apocalypse novels. Crumbling buildings leaned at odd angles, gaping holes in the streets revealed ominous depths, and somewhere out there, lurking in the digital depths of the simulation, was a beast designed to ruin everyone's day.

Not that anyone else knew that.

The professors had likely intended it as a lesson in restraint, a subtle warning to overambitious students: "Don't go poking around where you shouldn't, or you'll wake the ancient horror lying beneath."

A lesson I had chosen to ignore with great enthusiasm.

"Arthur, are you on the move?" Rose's voice crackled through the comm link—calm, professional. The voice of someone who did not yet suspect I was about to introduce an apex predator into this already chaotic mess.

"Yes," I replied smoothly, maintaining an air of calculated focus. "Keep the others engaged on the frontlines. We're closing in."

Technically not a lie.

I was closing in.

Just not on the same objective as everyone else.

I moved swiftly through a collapsed alleyway, my path weaving through the ruined skeletons of old buildings. Every few steps, I whispered quiet orders into the comms—small adjustments to unit formations, slight corrections in squad movements. Nothing too dramatic. Nothing that would tip anyone off.

The second years thought they were pushing us back.

They didn't realize they were being funneled.

A ripple in the rubble ahead. Movement.

I stopped, letting my mana pool beneath my skin, electricity humming at my fingertips.

Three seconds later, a figure burst from the shadows—Darius Vayne, a second-year specialist in illusions and precision strikes. A lethal opponent, assuming his target was someone slower, duller, and generally less paranoid than me.

He was already moving before he landed, splitting into six flickering images, each mirroring the other in perfect synchronization.

I let him think it worked.

I didn't react, didn't turn, didn't even flinch.

Until, at the last possible moment, I vanished.

A crack of air marked my movement—God Flash activating in an instant. The illusions swung wildly, searching for a target that was no longer there.

I reappeared behind him, moving with practiced silence. He had just enough time to realize his mistake before my strike landed.

His step faltered. A tiny miscalculation.

That was all I needed.

With a deft redirect of force, I sent him stumbling straight into the wrong part of the battlefield—a half-demolished corridor crawling with lesser Dark Beasts.

Darius whirled, his breath sharp with panic as shadows rippled through the ruined walls. A chorus of low, guttural growls answered him.

He had just enough time to curse loudly before the first pair of glowing eyes emerged from the gloom.

I was already gone.

The path I needed was an ancient sewer route, buried beneath layers of crumbling architecture and forgotten by the rest of the battlefield. The professors had hidden the simulation's biggest threat deep underground, ensuring it could only be awakened under specific conditions.

I had, of course, made sure those conditions were met.

No one noticed the carefully triggered mana surges, the small fractures in the map's containment fields, the deliberate overload of pressure points in key areas.

No one realized the real battle had already begun.

At last, I reached the chamber.

A vast, metallic vault lay before me, its doors humming with energy—the final fail-safe of the simulation. The containment field shimmered faintly, a last-ditch warning for anyone sensible enough to walk away.

Unfortunately for everyone involved, I was feeling particularly unsensible today.

Beyond that door was Tenebris Rex, the nightmare of the battlefield.

A six-star Dark Beast modeled after a creature that had supposedly wiped out entire armies in the past. A simulation-generated apex predator, crafted specifically to teach students the dangers of awakening things best left undisturbed.

I took precisely five seconds to reconsider my life choices.

Then, I overrode the containment protocols with a precise burst of mana.

The field flickered. The vault rumbled.

Then, silence.

For one long moment, nothing happened.

Then the doors exploded outward, the force rattling the ruins above, sending shockwaves through the entire battlefield.

A column of thick, black smoke poured into the air. Something stirred in the darkness.

And then—it emerged.

A towering, scaled monstrosity, its body rippling with unnatural shadows, golden eyes burning like molten fire. Clawed limbs scraped against the ruined walls, each movement heavy with restrained power.

Tenebris Rex lifted its massive head, nostrils flaring, and let out a deep, guttural growl.

It knew there was prey nearby.

It knew the hunt was on.

Above, the battlefield paused.

For the first time since the war began, both first and second years stopped fighting.

Because when the ground shakes like that, when an ancient roar rolls through the ruins like a funeral bell, even the most battle-hardened idiot knows to stop swinging for a second and pay attention.

My earpiece crackled with static.

Then, Rose's voice—sharp, urgent.

"Arthur. Tell me that wasn't you."

I adjusted my gloves, watching as Tenebris Rex stretched its limbs, testing its newfound freedom.

I smiled.

"Does it matter?"

A long silence.

Then, Rose exhaled through the mic.

"It does when you're about to get half the class killed."

I tilted my head slightly, observing how the beast's attention shifted toward the largest concentration of mana signatures.

Which, coincidentally, was exactly where the second years had been attempting to regroup.

The simulation's systems had built this creature for war, had given it parameters for threat assessment, had designed it to target the most dangerous enemies first.

And right now, the second years outnumbered us.

Which meant, to Tenebris Rex, they were the biggest problem in the room.

I tapped my earpiece.

"Rose, redirect squads four and five toward the plaza. Push all enemy formations into the beast's range."

A pause. Then, begrudgingly: "Understood."

I stepped back into the shadows, the sound of chaos unfolding above me.

Tenebris Rex roared, a sound that rippled through the city like a living earthquake.

Screams followed immediately.

Second years scattering.

First years pressing forward.

The war was ending.

Just not in the way anyone expected.