Aftermath

Alice's POV

The lid hissed open with a rush of sterile air.

For a moment, I didn't move. Couldn't. The pain in my shoulder from the last strike still lingered—phantom agony from a body that wasn't mine. I blinked up at the ceiling, confused to see it whole. White. Cold. Real.

No smoke.

No blood.

No corpses.

My breathing slowed as I sat up, the simulation restraints disengaging from my arms and legs.

Across the bay, others were already stirring. Some stumbled out. Others couldn't even stand. Someone threw up in a corner. Another sat against the wall, crying quietly into their hands.

We'd survived.

We'd lasted to the end.

I should've felt proud.

Instead, I felt hollow.

My hands weren't bleeding. My knees weren't bruised. My field wasn't drained.

But none of that erased what I'd felt just minutes ago—dying. Dying surrounded. Dying beside two strangers, one of whom hadn't even tried.

My eyes snapped toward him the second I saw him step out of his pod.

Calm.

Clean.

Tobias Anderson.

He rolled his shoulder once, as if adjusting to a body that hadn't just been put through war.

He didn't look at anyone.

Especially not me.

I stormed across the floor.

"You held back," I said, low and sharp. "You held back and people died."

He didn't flinch. Just looked at me like he was bored already. "They were always going to die."

"You didn't follow my orders."

"You're not my commanding officer."

I felt heat rise in my throat, teeth clenched. "I gave everything in there. We all did. Except you. You just—floated. You played safe."

"And it worked," he said. "You want applause for dying harder?"

My fist curled.

He leaned slightly closer, voice quieter. Sharper. "You were making calls with blindfolds on. I wasn't going to follow you into a wall."

"Your pride kept you from seeing other options. There wasn't time for power plays."

I opened my mouth, but the sound of heels on tile stopped me.

Everyone turned.

The woman from earlier—the one with the mirrored lenses and voice like a cold edge—stepped into the bay.

Silence fell like a guillotine.

She looked at us like we were trash stuck to her shoes.

"No congratulations," she said. "That display was, generously, mediocre."

A screen lit up behind her, hovering midair.

Scoring criteria

• 100 points per boar eliminated

• 100 points per civilian rescued

• 1,000 points per civilian evacuated

• 100 points per minute survived during siege defense

She paused, lips twitching just enough to show disdain.

"Not one of you earned a single evac point. You had time, bodies, and still failed to secure any of your civilians long-term."

Her eyes scanned the room like a targeting system.

"Your teamwork was chaotic. Disjointed. No coordination. Barely any leadership. And still, somehow, some of you managed to survive long enough to not embarrass yourselves."

The screen shifted.

Top 5 Individual Scores

Liam Taylor – 9,800 Shinji Ishikawa – 9,600 Alice Lindell – 9,500 Tobias Anderson– 8,700 Anna Elric – 8,600

My eyes caught the names—and the numbers.

He was fourth. Fourth and holding back.

I couldn't look at him.

The teacher continued. "Only the top 105 applicants will advance to Phase Two."

Another screen lit up.

Group Rankings:

• Group 1 – 49,500

• Group 3 – 41,000

• Group 2 – 35,000

All others: Disqualified.

Murmurs spread, but no one dared speak above a whisper.

"Of the qualifiers in your group, only a few of you demonstrated individual value. I will not repeat myself. These names stood out for performance and potential: Alice Lindell. Liam Taylor. Anna Elric. Tobias Anderson. Lucas Becker ."

My jaw tightened.

The woman's tone hardened.

"Alice —your pride is a weapon and a weakness. Control it. Tobias—you're dangerous, but undisciplined. Either step up or get out of the way. Liam—you hide too much. People like you either vanish or lead empires. Anna… you died well. Lucas—strength with no strategy is just noise."

The examiner looked up from their notes—not with triumph, not with pity, but with the quiet calculation of someone who's seen too many hopeful towers fall.

"You passed," she said. "Barely."

No applause. No celebration. Just the hum of the failing lights and the weight of everything that had to be broken to get here.

In the silence that followed, it was hard to say what had been tested more—our knowledge, or our ability to pretend we ever understood each other in the first place. But no one dared to ask.

She turned.

"Phase Two begins in two days. You will remain on academy grounds. Accommodations have been prepared. You will form a team of seven for the next test. Choose wisely. If you make another mess like this one, I will not bother recording your failure. I will just delete it. To those who failed—leave."

She walked out.

No one moved.

I didn't look at Tobias.

But I could still feel his presence behind me.

Silent.

Unbothered.

Unforgiven.