No Allies Left

The simulation had begun to feel too real.

Blood didn't just vanish. Creatures didn't simply despawn. And fatigue didn't reset.

They had been inside for just under five hours. Half the gauntlet remained—and the pressure was fraying them from the inside.

The team stood at the base of a shattered monorail bridge, jagged steel curling above like the ribs of a dead giant. Emric crouched beside a broken console, his micro-drone hovering overhead, casting faint blue light across the desolate landscape.

"East quadrant is crawling," he said, adjusting the neural relay. "There's movement in the train wreckage, and heat signatures in the underground loop. Could be Gorebound or worse."

Keiran adjusted his gauntlet, flexing his bruised arm. "Let's clear the train."

"We can't go in blind," Emric replied. "We don't have enough margin for mistakes."

Cade let out a slow sigh. "You mean we don't have your margin."

Emric ignored him. "Juno, elevation sweep. Cade, flare disruption at the far end. Malric, stay center. I'll rotate left with Yezri and sweep from—"

Keiran was already moving.

He vaulted the barrier and dropped into the wreckage, blades drawn.

"Keiran!" Emric hissed.

Too late.

The first creature lunged from beneath a crumpled seat.

[F-Tier: Bonechitter]

Then another. And another.

The carriage exploded into movement.

The rest of the team dropped in fast—forced to follow or leave him alone. Juno bent gravity fields to yank debris aside. Yezri fired short plasma bursts, vaporizing one target and wounding another. Cade tossed a flare-disruptor that blanketed the far half of the train in jamming static.

Emric kept to the shadows, tagging targets and highlighting weak points through the neural sync.

They fought brutally—but the mistake had already been made.

Keiran was too deep.

He took down four of them, laughing as he did—but when the fifth caught his leg and the sixth tore into his shoulder, the laughter turned into choking screams.

The seventh Bonechitter drove its hooked limbs into his spine.

[Keiran Doss – Disqualified]

The kill notice flashed across every HUD. Just like that—he was gone.

Silence fell. Yezri was the first to lower her hand.

Cade cursed under his breath.

Juno stepped back, her jaw clenched tight.

They left the train behind. Nothing to recover.

No body. No goodbyes.

Keiran was out.

Emric didn't speak.

He stood still for a long moment, drone hovering beside him, flickering in silence.

Eventually, Malric approached. "He was too impulsive."

"I should've pulled him back," Emric said.

"He wouldn't have listened."

Still. The weight of it sat heavy in his chest. The team had come in six strong. Now they were five. And already, the shape of that five had changed.

They moved again, but something had shifted.

No one spoke for an hour—not until they crossed into the western fringe, where the simulation's terrain grew dense with collapsing glass towers and half-sunken streets. A once-grand business district now overrun with fungal growths and rebar.

That's where they saw the others.

Another team—at least nine initiates strong—crossing the open street like a patrol squad. Their gear was clean. Their movements sharp.

One of them raised a hand in greeting.

Cade muttered, "Friendly?"

Yezri snorted. "No such thing in the gauntlet."

Still, the other team hailed them. Weapons holstered. Their apparent leader, a tall boy with red-dyed hair and a slender build, approached.

"Name's Ralon Criss," he said. "Obscurant. You look like you've been busy."

"We've managed," Emric replied cautiously.

"We're forming a broader coalition," Ralon said. "Linking smaller squads for mutual coverage. Shared data, scout sweeps, gear support."

Cade tilted his head. "Shared kills?"

"Final hits still matter," Ralon said, smiling. "But we rotate high-threat tags. Fairer split. Better odds."

Juno's eyes flicked to Yezri. Cade looked thoughtful.

Malric stayed silent.

Ralon nodded. "Think about it. Westward movement is suicide alone. You'll run into tier-D threats sooner or later. Groups who've mapped that region have already suffered losses."

"Losses like ours?" Yezri asked.

Ralon's smile faded slightly. "It happens. But it's why you should join up. You don't have to carry the weight alone."

They left with no firm agreement.

But the seed had been planted.

two hours later, in the remains of a collapsed metro station, it all unraveled.

It began with sabotage.

A corrupted flare pinged their location—someone had spliced it into the false signal of an enemy creature. But when the horde arrived, it wasn't creatures.

It was another team.

Not Ralon's.

This one came from the south— Five initiates. Their weapons primed for suppressive fire, resonance abilities optimized for chaos.

And they had their coordinates.

The ambush was sudden. Plasma arcs pinned them in from two sides.

Juno threw up a gravitational wall that held—barely.

"Scatter!" Emric yelled. "Fall back to zone Delta-9! Cover the left alley!"

They barely made it out.

It was Emric's fallback plan that saved them. He had mapped the metro line before entry and left signal tags behind to trigger choke-points and redirect pursuit.

When the sabotage team followed, they triggered an old reactor burst simulation—instantly neutralizing two of their members and forcing retreat.

Emric pulled his squad into the depths of an old infirmary and sealed the path behind them.

They survived.

But not whole.

Juno crouched against a cabinet, eyes hard. "They knew where we'd be."

Yezri shook her head. "And if we'd joined Ralon, maybe they wouldn't have tried."

"That's not how this works," Emric snapped. "That wasn't Ralon's group."

"Maybe not," Cade said. "But it doesn't change the fact that we're sitting ducks. We've lost Keiran. We're down on gear. We don't trust each other. This is a dead sprint with knives out, and right now, you're the one holding the map and the most points."

Emric looked at him. "So?"

"So," Yezri said, "it's only a matter of time before we become liabilities—or you do."

A long silence stretched between them.

Then Cade sighed. "Ralon's camp is half a kilometer northeast. We've been watching the HUD movement markers. That's where we're going."

"You're leaving," Emric said flatly.

"We don't have much of a choice" Yezri corrected.

She stood.

Then Juno stood too. "We fight better with people who aren't trying to control every breath."

That stung—but Emric didn't flinch.

They looked to Malric.

The unawakened boy was still crouched beside the wall, calm as always.

"I'm staying," he said.

Yezri blinked. "Seriously?"

Malric shrugged. "No other group will take me. Not unawakened, not this far in."

Cade scoffed. "Or maybe you've got some secret reason. Whatever."

No more words were exchanged.

Yezri, Cade, and Juno moved off into the street, gear slung over their backs.

When the shadows swallowed them, Emric let out a breath.

It felt final.

He turned to Malric.

"I don't need your reasons," he said. "But don't slow me down."

Malric nodded. "I won't."

Still… doubt lingered.

Emric couldn't shake the feeling.

Malric hadn't left because of loyalty.

He'd stayed because no one else wanted him.

And that made him dangerous in ways Emric couldn't yet define.

So he made his choice.

Before the next hour passed, Emric left the safe zone in the dead of night, gear silent, relay dimmed.

He didn't leave a message.

He didn't say goodbye.

Just vanished into the dark undercity—alone.

The gauntlet wasn't about trust.

Not anymore.

It was about racking in the most points.

And Emric Vale had no illusions left about what that would take.