Falling into the Simulation pt 6

Custer hadn't always known that the names recorded in the test arena didn't belong to a single group or class, but rather to all the teams that had ever taken part in the exercise. The purpose of this was clear: to confuse the participants and remind them that, regardless of their performance, they were never among the top ten. This tactic often demotivated the teams, leading many to give up. Still, despite their efforts, Custer's team had never made it into the top five.

He vividly remembered the challenge he had faced years ago and the choices he had made at the time. When he retook the test later on, he managed to go much further and reach second place. But the feeling was different. He knew what to expect, which paths to take, and how to overcome the obstacles. There was no real challenge. In the end, he chose not to surpass the first-place holder—simply because he found no joy in it.

Now, there he was, watching in astonishment the decisions made by those kids. In groups with a clear, decisive leader, there was no conflict. That leader made smart choices and, above all, had the strength to deal with the consequences. He could have simply let the fifteen people die and defeated the creature from the safety of his fortress, but Custer knew that decision would have terrible repercussions later.

He himself had known about the existence of the armor, but all his discoveries had been the result of chance. Without solid, robust knowledge, it was nearly impossible for anyone to defeat the top-ranking team. For years, Custer believed team number one was a fraud, until he uncovered the truth: the group consisted of the sole survivors of an incursion into the southern part of that planet. Its members included three Zentros and two Vultras—Alvina and Charon. Even so, he remained stunned.

"Professor? Are you listening?"

Custer cleared his throat before replying:

"Yes, I'm listening. Alright, everyone, let's keep following this team to understand their choices and strategies. Finalists, you may leave and rest, if you wish."

But no one moved. Everyone kept watching that boy, who had single-handedly held off an attack with nothing more than his effort and a small dagger. Custer used the pause to look for that girl, but didn't see her in the room. She probably hadn't even bothered to come back to receive her accolades. She was the true champion of the combat competition, and even the essentials had surrendered to her first magical strike. Custer recognized she was on a level above the rest—and she knew it.

In the simulation, Tyrin awoke, still groggy. He was lying on the ground, covered by a warm blanket made of soft fur. Beside him, a girl smiled while calling his name:

"Sir Tyrin, welcome back. Thank you so much for saving us."

He blinked a few times, confused, trying to remember who that person was. Probably one of the survivors he had rescued. The night was dark, but the firelight and starry sky made everything feel a bit more comforting.

"Where is everyone?" he asked, his voice still hoarse.

"If you mean our rescuers, one of them—Damian—is reinforcing the outer area of the castle. Cassandra and Eleonora are taking care of the Scorpiones. Here, drink this potion, it'll help you recover faster."

Tyrin tried to sit up to take the potion, but realized he was so exhausted he could barely move his feet.

"Hold it right there, handsome," a playful voice called from behind him.

Eleonora appeared, still stained with Scorpione venom, and smiled.

"We've finished the job. Now that we have help, we'll be able to get more done. Are you hungry? Because today's menu includes Scorpione soup, fried Scorpione, roasted Scorpione, and, just for variety, Scorpione barbecue!"

She laughed at her own joke, and Tyrin joined her with a tired smile. He knew it was true—they were surviving solely on that creature. It wasn't horrible, but it definitely wasn't good either. It sat somewhere between edible and nearly vomit-inducing.

"The good news," Eleonora continued, "is that one of the survivors is a cook, and he's going to prepare everything with some spices he brought."

Now that was good news. Coming from a poor planet, Tyrin knew very well the power of a good amount of seasoning.

After a few hours and a meal worthy of a king, they sat around the fire—Tyrin, Cassandra, Eleonora, Damian, and an older man, who was the first to speak:

"Thank you for saving our lives. We'd like to help defend the castle, but unfortunately, we don't have many soldiers."

"Don't worry, Mr. Jay," Cassandra replied. "We just need to secure the perimeter. With your help, we'll be able to prepare two more sets of armor and repair Tyrin's. We'll be ready for the battle."

Tyrin was still trying to process everything that was happening. Before the meeting, Cassandra had explained the situation to him. At the moment, they had four soldiers, two engineers, three medics, three civilians, and three farmers. To his surprise, the farmers were helping with the breeding and handling of the Scorpiones, and their contribution had already made a difference. The group was growing stronger. With Scorpione production in full swing and the use of Zenthral dung, the farmers had shown they had deep knowledge of the species. The soldiers, on the other hand, knew how to shoot and showed initiative, but they weren't strong in close combat.

The medics had managed to create a few potions from Scorpione venom, but due to the lack of mixing materials, they could only produce a small number of recovery potions—like the one they had given him. Meanwhile, the engineers helped Damian distribute the protective carapaces more effectively around the perimeter. Jay, although a civilian, had political experience and ended up acting as the spokesperson between the group of survivors and Tyrin's team.

"Whatever you need, our group will be ready to help. You can count on us," said old Mr. Jay, getting up with visible fatigue before walking away to rejoin his people.

Damian watched him for a moment and sighed.

"Shit, I really want to help these guys…"

Before he could continue, a well-aimed slap hit the back of his head.

"Shut up, dude. They're just part of the simulation, don't be stupid," said Cassandra, rolling her eyes.

But it was Eleonora who interrupted with a troubling observation:

"Actually, they existed."

Her eyes were fixed on the group of survivors, who were toasting in the distance as if celebrating a small victory.

"What do you mean?" Cassandra asked, frowning.

"This simulation is probably based on the memories of people who actually went through this challenge. Or at least from bodies recovered whose memories were extracted." She paused, analyzing the group's reactions. "Which means this group was real. But they definitely died."

"How can you be so sure?" Tyrin asked, still trying to grasp the idea.

Eleonora turned her gaze to the dark sky, reflecting for a moment before answering:

"When we fell, I noticed we were in the southern part of the planet. That was one of the last lost areas… and officially, there were no civilian survivors from that region. At least, none were ever recorded."

Her voice was cold and distant, as if she were just reporting a fact. But the sense of emptiness spread among them. Damian looked again toward the hopeful group in the distance, feeling a tightness in his chest. They were alive there, laughing, confident. But in reality, Damian was only witnessing their final moments—within the simulation.

The silence was broken by Cassandra, who tried to push away the growing melancholy:

"So what do we do now? After everything we've been through, we're still only in twelfth place. That doesn't make any sense."

Tyrin frowned, thoughtful.

"I have a theory."

The others turned to him, curious.

"Okay, go ahead," Cassandra said. "I'm curious."

He took a deep breath before continuing:

"What if… what we're seeing isn't just our class, but all the teams that have ever participated in this simulation?"

The silence that followed was heavy with a new understanding—and a deeper unease than any of them had expected.

Eleonora was the first to break it.

"That makes sense. I mean, I don't believe our class has ten teams as competent as we are." She crossed her arms and sighed. "I don't like to brag, but I'm not an idiot either. Our group isn't going to make it into the Hall of the greatest of all time."

Damian and Cassandra nodded silently. The realization was uncomfortable, but true.

"Doesn't that mean we've already won?" Damian asked, casually. "If we're so far ahead, why don't we just leave?"

But the moment the words left his lips, he reconsidered them and felt like he was being unfair to himself.

Tyrin looked at him seriously.

"You understand we have an opportunity here, right? To grow and become the next pillar of support for our generation? We need to give our best—always."

The idea echoed among them.

Every chance to improve without risking their lives was a gift that should be seized to its fullest. Tyrin knew that. He wanted to test himself, to learn from every victory and, even more so, from every defeat. The future was uncertain. He could feel something big approaching—whether it was a false emperor, the looming threat of the Aracnophons ready to wipe out humanity, or even the Tyranos, who remained far too quiet, lurking, waiting for humanity's next misstep.

They all silently agreed with his words. Each of them had their own reason to grow stronger. They wanted to protect their home, bring pride to their families. They needed this just as much as Tyrin did. And in that moment, he had reminded them of their purpose.

"Let's get some rest," he announced. "Tomorrow we've got a lot of work if we want to survive the third attack."

He looked at the fire, where the flames danced with an unsteady glow.

"Something tells me this time, it's going to be a real challenge."