Sixteen soldiers died in that battle. Twelve men, four women. Fourteen bodies lie in repose. Some faces are untarnished and lay supine, giving their friends and battle buddies a chance to pay their respects directly to the deceased’s body. The other two soldiers who died in the battle were so mangled and broken that their remains could not be recovered. For them, there is only a framed picture and a dog tag upon a makeshift shrine for comrades to grieve their losses.

  It’s a sobering reminder. I’ve suffered the loss of my mother the day the System arrived. But since then, we’ve gotten lucky. Chloe and I braved the South County Dungeon twice and lived. We braved the Tower Gauntlet, and were let go by a sentry that could have killed us with a thought. We— Chloe and I— survived this most recent fight without injuries beyond her abilities to restore. But not everyone has been so fortunate.

  I end up leaving the memorial grounds not long after I arrive. I feel too much anger when I see all of those mangled, lifeless corpses. I know my anger is irrational, but more troublingly, it’s anger directed at myself. Selfish, self-serving anger cursing myself. Anger for my inability to act, for my lack of knowledge as a [Glyphcaster], for my low levels, for having all this alleged power within me and being completely unable to reach it. I can’t help but feeling this anger, but it takes away from the need for the deceased and their friends to mourn amongst themselves.

  But, I need time to mourn as well. Time to process, to reflect. An After-Action Report, maybe with a bit of group therapy attached.

  That, and I– I need a break. A chance to mentally recharge after everything that just happened.

  I make my way back to my room and turn on the water in the bathtub. Nice and hot, with little wisps of steam coming out. I get in and slip into the tub and let the steaming water seep into my skin. My hair grows heavy from all the water soaking into it, pulling my neck and shoulders back. My muscles tense, but slowly, far too slowly, they start to relax as the bathwater performs its magic upon my body.

  I yawn. Forgot that I lost sleep this morning as well. I lean my neck back and let out a soft moan as my eyes close and tension melts away from my body. The feeling of soap gliding against my skin is heavenly, as is the sensation each time I stretch my legs and neck and feel an oh-so-satisfying pop. I do neck and shoulder stretches, rolling each of them in circles, focusing on the bodily sensations and, for a brief moment, away from anything and everything outside the bathroom.

  A knock comes from the door. “Sera, are you in there?” Chloe’s voice asks.

  I answer in the affirmative. She tilts open the door slightly and extends her hand past the edge of the door to wave at me. I wave back, unsure if she can see my hand popping out of the water.

  “I just wanted to let you know that breakfast is just about ready, and everyone is expected to be there.”

  “Thanks, Chloe. I’ll be out in a moment.”

  I’m sure it’s just as hard for her. Maybe even harder, since she’s responsible for healing the most grievously wounded of the soldiers. She’s had to come face-to-face with injuries I scarcely want to imagine, let alone have to look at it. And she’s done it all without expressing a complaint or a concern. Once again, I show my selfishness, my unworthiness to be anyone’s guardian angel as my creators had envisioned. At the very least, I owe Chloe a long apology.

  I slip out of the tub, clothe myself, and make my way into the main room of our hotel-slash-dorm room. Chloe is there, sitting on the nearer bed, her head lowered, hands over her eyes, weeping and grieving in silence. I don’t say a word. No word I can say could ever properly comfort her. Could really ever comfort anyone who’s gone through what we have. Instead, I sit next to her in silence. I hold her, wrapping my arm around her back, pulling her closer, and letting her cry as much as she needs to.

  “It was horrible,” she says through sniffles. “So many injuries. So much blood and muscle and organs sticking out and…”

  “You don’t have to talk about it. Not right now, not to me. Not ever, if you don’t think it’d help to relive it.” I give her some time, let her bury her face in my chest. “We’ll get through this, Chloe,” I add.

  This much I mean. I promised that I would protect her. Today I learned that I’m not yet able to fulfill my promise. Not against that brachiosaur. Not against the truly vicious monsters that lie just beyond the city’s periphery. But I will never stop trying to get stronger, working to live up to the goals that I have set for myself. To be the friend that Chloe needs me to be for her. It’s the least I can do, after having dragged her out of her peaceful life for my sake.

  It shames me that right now, it’s the most I can do as well.

  We sit like this for about three more minutes before a more forceful knock comes from the door. I’m half surprised that Lindsey isn’t barging right on in without a care in the world, but to her credit, her [Ranger] class affords her a bit of tact and subtlety when the situation demands. The two of us grab our belongings, I don my equipment, and the two of us make our way down to breakfast.

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  The hall is full, but the mood is… not what I expect. The air is thick with grief as I would have expected. But the demeanor of most is more calm, more disciplined. More focused. I suppose it’s not the first time that most of them have watched their friends and comrades be taken by enemies. Some of them might have already fallen to the System and its creations prior to this. Others lost their lives in wars between humans. Wars that seem so petty and insignificant now.

  Wars that are likely to ramp up in the coming weeks and months nonetheless. I understand exactly why the colonel is giving me such freedom and so many resources to advance my study into glyphs. He hopes to achieve overwhelming military advantages for the sake of his bosses and their bosses and the country he serves.

  But I know that once [Glyphcasting] and Ethertech become weapons of war against humans, there’s no putting that cat back in the bag. The proliferation of stronger and more potent ways to kill, maim, and torture other humans is one of the straightest lines over the course of human history, from rocks and pointy objects, to guns, to tanks, bombs, and everything else we’ve developed. And everything I create, or facilitate the creation of, will follow this path just the same.

  “Hey, Ms. Mortensen.” I see Private Tracey sitting down next to me with a forlorn expression on her face. No sign of Corporal Blair in the dining area. I lower my head, unwilling to broach the topic. All I can do for her is try to retain some degree of normalcy, and grieve on my own…

  Some damn angel my creators made me out to be! I keep my frustrations bottled away for now. They need it more than I do.

  “I saw what you did,” Private Tracey says. “You’re a hero. No other way to say it. You saved so many lives today.”

  I look down at my plate of biscuits and gravy, and the bowl of honeydew and cantaloupe next to it. It’s not bad, but compared with yesterday’s meal, it smells and tastes hollow and empty. The biscuits are thick and heavy and clog my throat as I force them down, but I do nonetheless.

  “Thanks,” I say halfheartedly. “But not everyone.”

  “Ms. Mortensen,” she says. “One of the first things we learn in basic training is that we collectively are a team. We fight together. We serve together. And though we hope that it’s never the case, we know that there’s always the chance that some or all of us will die together. That’s what we sign up for when we enlist.”

  I try to interrupt, to tell her everything that’s wrong about that notion, but she continues, cutting me off.

  “A lot of us have traumas the first time we go into battle. Even if we think we’re all gung-ho about being a soldier and carrying out our duties, the reality of seeing a friend, a comrade… Someone you trained with, fought beside, got to know and become a brother- or sister-in-arms with. It’s one of the most harrowing, sobering, most heart-wrenching experiences anyone can ever go through. And I’m sure it’s even worse for you, not having the experience and network of support to help you go through with it.

  “But I want you to know that even if different circumstances brought you into our group, you are one of us now.”

  The last person I expected to see offer a sympathetic word sits down next to Ms. Tracey. And unlike before, Jackie doesn’t greet me with her usual scowl, or the finger, or any other displays of contempt I’ve become accustomed to. There’s no smile though. Just resignation.

  “Now you see it for yourself, Sera,” she says. “I’ll give you credit for your work out there. You prevented a tragedy from turning into a massacre, and for that, I’m–” She chokes on her word for a moment. “–I’m grateful. And I’ve heard that you’re helping out the commanders on some special project.”

  “I don’t like it. I’ve seen military weapons used by our own government against us civilians more than once. On TV, and even in real-life both.” I’m not sure if the ‘us’ part of the statement still applies, considering we’ve been conscripted, more or less. But I still think of myself as one, and most of my worldview to this point is colored by those experiences.

  Jackie sighs. “Your abilities saved lives today. Failure to develop your skills further will undo the good work that you’ve done to this point. Don’t let your sentimentality or your previous experiences get in the way of continuing to do what you were obviously brought here to accomplish. And look around you. I don’t like you and you don’t like me. But if you want to sit on your ass and not use your Skills, at least have the decency to look everyone here in the eye and tell them that you’re not going to help them out.” She doesn’t say another word, instead taking her plate and making her way to a table on the opposite side of the dining area.

  “I should get going as well, Ms. Mortensen. It was good to see you again and–” She hesitates. “And thank you.”

  I nod and shake her hand before she heads off. Chloe and I are left alone for a bit. The crowd of soldiers slowly disperses as they make their way off to their individual tasks. Meanwhile, I’m not sure if I’m ready physically or mentally to dive back into my [Glyphcasting] research. Especially now, knowing exactly how devastating its potential can be.

  “Where’s the rest of our old group?” I ask Chloe.

  “Anna and Brent are resting in the infirmary. They’re stable, slowly healing, but their injuries were both pretty serious, and they’ve been given the rest of the day off. Lindsey is still off patrolling for any signs of raptors that sneaked into the city in that last attack. And then Alexey was in the command office, speaking with Nicholas, the colonel, and some of the other staff members.”

  I want to say something about how at least none of the people I’ve come to know have died. Except, Corporal Blair did. And so too did others I didn’t know. As much as I don’t like Jackie’s attitude, she’s not wrong. I can save lives. I think my creators wanted me to do exactly that. I don’t know how best to do that just now, but I have Chloe. I have Lindsey. And I have others who are willing to help. And I should avail myself of the help that I’ve been given access to. Because I know I cannot do it all alone.