They had been marching toward the eastern sector for some time now, tactically eliminating every devil they encountered. Winter continued to provide them with a wide perimeter of situational awareness, relaying the exact positioning and numerical strength of the threats ahead before using her high-caliber sniper rifle to systematically eliminate any creature that posed a mortal danger to the team.
Thanks to her unmatched overwatch, their collective score tallied up to a remarkably high amount, firmly placing their squad among the top tiers in the academy standings. But within their group, Graves had accumulated the fewest individual points. The grading system was unyielding: to secure points, a cadet had to land the killing blow, a metric verified with absolute precision by the surveillance drones humming overhead. Because Graves utterly lacked the supernatural combat proficiency of an awakened individual with an opened Gene Lock, he simply couldn't compete with his teammates' lethal speed.
The others weren't stupid; they had clearly noticed Graves's distinct lack of combat fluidity. Fortunately, Gamby had stepped in to cover for him, loudly claiming that Graves was just suffering from residual exhaustion from acting as the bait. While it was a incredibly flimsy excuse for a genetically enhanced cadet, it was enough to buy Graves some much-needed breathing room.
Suddenly, a panicked cadet came sprinting into their sector—followed closely by two of his teammates, all of them fleeing frantically through the ruins.
Apollo stepped into the center of the path, forcing the lead cadet to a halt. "Where are you all running to? You're sprinting like you're being hunted by a massive horde, but I don't see anything behind you."
The retreating cadet panted heavily, thick beads of sweat pouring down his pale face. "There are... there are devils out there with multiple arms! They caught our squad off guard and slaughtered two of our teammates right in front of us! We had to abandon the sector and run for our lives!"
"If you've already lost two members, why don't you just forfeit the exam and call for an emergency evacuation?" Apollo asked, his tone pragmatic.
"Hell no!" the cadet snapped breathlessly, glancing back at his remaining two teammates, who nodded in fierce, grim agreement. "I've lost two friends, but I am not forfeiting the only chance I have to become a full-fledged soldier just to be kicked out and forced to wait another three years." It was clear their minds were completely made up.
Apollo shook his head silently, stepping aside to let the traumatized trio pass. Graves watched them flee, a dark thought crossing his mind. He wondered if his own teammates would abandon him that quickly if things went south—or if he would abandon them. Honestly, Graves knew the answer. He would absolutely leave them behind. He wasn't a savior, nor did he ever harbor any desire to play the hero. He was training to be a soldier for one reason and one reason only: it was his sole ticket out of the brutal poverty of the outskirts.
"Winter, eyes on our front," Apollo commanded, tapping his earpiece. "Report whatever you see in the next grid. Give us the layout."
"Affirmative," Winter responded instantly. She had heard the distant screaming through her scope moments ago but had tightly disciplined herself not to divert her attention away from her squad's immediate path.
As her scope swerved toward the next courtyard, her breath hitched. "I see a small cluster of devils... they're..." She paused, a wave of disgust bleeding into her tone. "They are currently feeding on two cadet bodies. There are five of them in total."
Because the squad's communication network was entirely linked, every word Winter uttered echoed clearly in all of their earpieces.
"They're roughly eight feet tall," Winter continued, her voice tight. "They possess multiple arms—three protruding from each side of their torsos. And... they have a massive, gaping cavity in the center of their chests, topped with a human-like face. No, it's more like a skull covered in tightly stretched, decaying skin."
Graves froze mid-stride. His eyes narrowed to sharp slits as a volatile cocktail of crippling fear, profound grief, and absolute, volcanic rage flooded his entire system.
That gaping chest... those multiple arms...
It was them. It was the exact same abhorrent breed of devil that had violently devoured his mother right in front of his eyes.
A guttural, animalistic scream of pure fury tore from Graves's throat. Breaking formation, he bolted forward, sprinting with everything his human legs could muster directly toward the monsters' coordinates.
"What the hell are you doing, Graves?! Come back!" Apollo roared, completely caught off guard.
"Why is he suddenly losing his mind?!" Julius yelled, staring in absolute bewilderment as the scrawny white-haired boy vanished into the grey rubble.
Gamby instinctively sprinted a few paces after him before skidding to a halt, turning her head back to their leader. "Apollo, what are the orders?!" she demanded, her muscles tense and her posture practically vibrating. She was barely holding herself back from breaking rank to chase him.
"Damn that reckless brat!" Apollo snarled, gritting his teeth so hard his jaw ached. What could possibly possess a talentless cadet to launch a solo frontal assault against a cluster of multi-armed apex predators? Closing his eyes for a split second to steady his tactical mind, he snapped back into action. "Winter! Give us a live situational status on Graves right now!"
"On it!" Winter responded, her voice laced with sudden panic.
Quickly shifting her communication frequency to a secure, private line, she bypassed the main squad channel and patched herself directly into Graves's ear.
"Graves, what are you doing?!" she cried out, her voice trembling and on the verge of whimpering. "Why are you risking your life like this? No one asked you to play the hero! Please, turn around and come back! Don't get yourself mutilated... please, Graves, I beg you!"
The sheer desperation in Winter's plea pierced through his manic episode, causing Graves's heart to soften for a fraction of a second. But as the mental image of his mother's final moments flashed in his mind, the rage surged back with double the intensity. Without uttering a single word, Graves reached up, violently ripped the communication pod out of his ear, and threw it shattered onto the pavement beneath his boots, never breaking his sprint.
Up on the ridge, Winter's heart dropped. "He... he just destroyed his earpiece," she reported back to Apollo, her voice hollow with fear.
"Ah, I am legitimately going to kill that idiot myself if the devils don't do it first!" Julius fumed, his handsome face twisting in anger as he raised his rifle.
"Save the threats for later, we're moving out! Catch up to him!" Apollo ordered fiercely.
"Why don't we just sprint ahead, tackle him to the ground, and stop him from doing something incredibly stupid?" Gamby suggested loudly as they broke into a genetically enhanced run.
"No! Rushing him blindly from behind will only trigger his adrenaline and make him do something even more erratic," Apollo countered, keeping his tactical focus. "It'll completely destabilize the situation."
"Winter, try speaking to him again! Threaten him if you have to—" Julius shouted, before abruptly cutting himself off. "Ah, damn it, I forgot the fool dropped his pod!"
With their communication cut and a lethal encounter looming just seconds away, the squad strategically followed him, tracing the path of the talentless boy sprinting headfirst into his worst nightmare.