The narrow streets of the city echoed with the pounding of boots. Jeremy led the way, his heart thudding. Behind them, the relentless drones and Xelarian warriors grew closer. The group pushed forward, frantic, dodging between crumbling buildings. Everything was a blur of desperation.

  "We need to go underground!" Mia called out, her eyes darting to the ventilation panels lining the street.

  "There are no tunnels!" Perci shouted back, frustration clear. "It's not part of the simulation!"

  “We need to find cover!” Andrew growled, his mace hefted over one shoulder. Sweat glistened on his brow as his eyes darted to every alley and corner, searching for a way out. “If we keep running blindly, they’ll corner us.”

  Marcus skidded to a halt, grabbing Jeremy’s arm and pointing toward the skyline. “That spire! Look! If we can make it there, we might have a chance.”

  Jeremy followed his gaze, spotting the alien structure. Its smooth, dark surface stood stark against sky, a tower that seemed untouched by the chaos. It was visible from nearly every part of the city.

  “Are you sure?” Jeremy asked, doubt creeping into his voice.

  Marcus’s jaw tightened. “Do we have a better option?”

  “We don’t even know if we can get inside!” Perci protested, her tone laced with frustration. “And what if—”

  A piercing screech cut through her words. A drone had spotted them, its red light flickering as it shot down the street toward them. Jeremy didn’t hesitate. “We’re going to the spire! Move!”

  The group surged forward. The streets twisted and turned unpredictably, forcing them to weave around obstacles. Perci took the lead briefly, her lithe form darting ahead to scout the path.

  “This way!” she called, gesturing to a narrow passage barely wide enough for them to squeeze through. “It’s faster!”

  The group followed, single file, their breaths labored. Jeremy kept glancing back, watching the drones close the distance. The hum of their engines grew louder, echoing ominously through the alleys.

  “I’ve got them!” Mia shouted from the rear, skidding to a stop and drawing her bow in one fluid motion. Her arrow flew true, striking the drone square in its sensor. Sparks erupted, and the machine faltered, crashing into a nearby wall. But more were coming—too many.

  “We’ll cover you, Mia!” Timothy barked, swinging his hammer at a piece of debris. The impact sent a cloud of dust and rubble cascading into the alley, slowing the drones’ advance. “Go, now!”

  Mia bolted, rejoining the group as Timothy lingered for a heartbeat longer, his massive frame a shield against the encroaching tide. He swung again, smashing another drone that had slipped through the dust before sprinting after the others.

  The streets widened as they neared the spire, exposing them to more Xelarians. They hissed in their guttural language, weapons raised.

  Jeremy reacted instinctively, his spear flashing as he lunged forward to meet the first attacker. The Xelarian parried, but Andrew was there, his mace crashing into its side with enough force to send it sprawling.

  “Keep moving!” Jeremy shouted, his voice hoarse. They couldn’t afford to stop—not now.

  Marcus charged ahead, his sword slashing in wide arcs to clear the path. Perci darted behind him, her daggers flashing as she struck at the vulnerable joints of the Xelarians that tried to block their way. Each of them fought with desperation, every motion focused on survival.

  The spire loomed closer, but the open ground between them and the entrance felt endless. Drones swarmed overhead, their sensors sweeping dangerously close.

  “Mia, can you—?”

  “I’m on it!” she interrupted, already nocking an arrow. She loosed it at a nearby support beam, causing it to collapse onto the street. The falling debris created a barrier, buying the group precious seconds.

  The entrance to the spire finally came into view—a dark, circular doorway set into its sleek surface. “Go, go, go!” Jeremy shouted, pushing everyone forward as he turned to cover the rear. He thrust his spear into the chest of a charging Xelarian, twisting it free as Marcus pulled him toward the door.

  Timothy reached the entrance first, using his hammer to smash the locking mechanism. The heavy doors creaked open, and the group tumbled inside. Andrew and Marcus slammed the doors shut behind them, their collective weight bracing it.

  "Take positions!" Jeremy barked. His spear gripped tightly, knuckles white. The base of the tower was their chokepoint—he wouldn’t let it fall.

  Mia climbed the stairs, finding a position with a clear line of sight. She drew her bow, eyes steady as she waited, listening to the growing hum of drones outside. Marcus stood by Jeremy, his sword ready, eyes narrowed.

  "They’re coming!" Andrew shouted, voice echoing in the narrow tower. He stood at the flank, mace raised, muscles tense.

  The door burst inward as the Xelarians poured in. Jeremy moved fluidly, each strike purposeful, but they kept coming. One Xelarian lunged at him, its armor catching his spear just shy of piercing through. Jeremy gritted his teeth, twisting the spear to deflect the enemy’s blade before driving it upward into the gap between its helmet and chest.

  Marcus was right there beside him, their movements almost in sync. As Jeremy twisted to deal with the Xelarian, Marcus stepped forward, delivering a calculated slash to another enemy that had attempted to flank Jeremy. The coordination between them created a rhythm—one would strike, the other would defend. Marcus ducked beneath a swinging axe, countering with a diagonal strike that severed armor and alien sinew. Blood splattered across his face, but Marcus didn’t flinch.

  Jeremy caught a glimpse of Andrew, standing firm at the flank. His mace crushed the chest of a Xelarian that had broken through their defensive line. He quickly turned, catching another enemy across the helmet, the impact sending the soldier sprawling backward into the others. Andrew's movements created a buffer for Jeremy and Marcus, allowing them to focus on the enemies in front of them without fear of being overrun from the side. Each movement was precise, a balance of brute strength and careful control.

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  A shrill whirr cut through the air as drones began to swarm in through the shattered door. Marcus covered Jeremy's flank as Mia's arrows darted through the opening, targeting the drones' sensors with pinpoint accuracy. Jeremy felt a rush of relief at the cover fire, allowing him to shift his focus momentarily to the right side. Above them, Mia was in her element, perched with a clear vantage point. Her fingers worked in a blur as she notched and loosed her arrows in rapid succession. Each hit sent sparks flying, drones clattering to the floor as their systems short-circuited. Despite her success, the drones kept coming, and Mia found herself shifting position to stay ahead of the tide, glancing down to make sure she stayed in sync with the others.

  “I thought the drones wouldn’t be able to follow us in here!” Perci yelled as she darted between the Xelarians. She stayed close to Marcus and Jeremy's line, exploiting any openings they created. She was like a shadow—quick, silent, and deadly. She leapt onto the back of a Xelarian, her daggers plunging between its shoulder plates. With a swift kick, she pushed off its body, rolling away just as another drone's laser fired, narrowly missing her. She landed in a crouch, already moving toward her next target, her eyes flicking briefly to Timothy to ensure he was holding his side of the line.

  Timothy roared as he swung his hammer, splintering one of the drones into pieces.The power behind each swing was undeniable, but the strain was showing. Sweat poured down his face, his arms trembling under the weight of the hammer. He turned, catching his breath for a moment before smashing another drone that had gotten too close, making sure to hold the line and keep Perci covered.

  “Jeremy, behind you!” Marcus yelled, his voice cutting through the chaos. Jeremy spun, his spear meeting the incoming Xelarian just in time. Marcus shifted closer, ready to support if Jeremy needed help. The force of the collision jarred Jeremy's arms, nearly knocking the spear from his grip. Marcus held his position, covering Jeremy’s back as Jeremy pushed back, using his foot to kick the enemy’s knee, throwing it off balance before landing a decisive blow through its chest.

  Jeremy felt his energy waning, but he knew they couldn't give up. He glanced at Mia, who was almost out of arrows, her quiver emptying with each moment. “Mia, downstairs! Use the debris for cover!” he shouted, his voice barely audible over the chaos. Mia nodded, leaping down to take cover behind the broken remnants of the doorframe as she starting sending out bolts of fire.

  Suddenly, a Xelarian broke through, lunging toward Timothy's unguarded side. Perci dashed forward, throwing herself at the enemy, her dagger plunging into its neck just in time. The alien fell, but it took Perci down with it, pinning her to the floor. She struggled beneath its weight, her breath coming in short gasps as she fought to free herself.

  “Timothy, help Perci!” Marcus shouted, eyes locked on another incoming wave. Timothy turned, slamming his hammer down on the Xelarian’s back, shattering the armor and freeing Perci. He pulled her up, their eyes meeting for a split second—a moment of silent gratitude—before they turned back to the fight.

  The tide was turning, the group tiring. Jeremy could see it in the way their movements slowed, in the labored breaths they took. The Xelarians were endless, and for every enemy they cut down, another took its place.

  Just when Jeremy thought they couldn’t hold any longer, the whistle cut through the chaos—sharp and shrill, commanding attention. The Xelarians froze, before vanishing entirely.

  Jeremy blinked, disoriented. The simulated world melted away. The once chaotic battlefield dissolved into flickering blue lights, remnants of the simulation fading.

  Sudden stillness. Jeremy slumped to one knee, trembling. He saw the others—Marcus bracing himself, Andrew sinking down, chest heaving. They had given everything, but it hadn’t been enough.

  Hendrikson looked them with a stern gaze, expression unreadable. A glint in his eye hinted at something other than disapproval.

  “Take a seat,” he ordered, nodding to the benches. The group obeyed, dropping onto them, exhaustion making them boneless.

  “Let’s talk about what went wrong,” Hendrikson began. His voice calm but authoritative. He gestured to a holographic display—a replay of their battle. The group watched in silence, each moment replayed in detail. Mistakes, missteps, hesitation—all laid bare.

  “Marcus,” Hendrikson continued, turning to him, “you have good instincts, but you need to assert yourself sooner. If you want to be a leader, you have to be one from the start. Don't hesitate when the group needs direction.”

  Marcus nodded, jaw tight, determination flickering in his eyes. He knew Hendrikson was right.

  “Jeremy,” Hendrikson continued, shifting his gaze, “you held the line well, but you relied too heavily on instinct. You have to think about your how you fight, even if you do not want to think about who you’re fighting. Balance that instinct with strategy.”

  Jeremy looked down, absorbing the critique. He clenched his fists, his mind already working on how to do better next time.

  “Perci,” Hendrikson addressed her directly, “your speed and agility are unmatched, but you need to be careful about overextending. You were too far ahead at times, which could have easily left you isolated. Stick with the group until you know the situation is under control, then strike. Timing is everything.”

  Perci nodded, her expression serious. She knew the risks, and she was determined to do better.

  Hendrikson turned back to the replay, zooming in on Timothy’s actions. “Timothy, your strength is an advantage, but you need to use it with more precision. Swinging with all your might is a waste if you didn’t need that to kill your enemy. Use your power strategically.”

  Timothy grunted in acknowledgment, brow furrowed in thought.

  “In those final moments,” Hendrikson continued. “Why did all of you think of going into the spire—the one place visible anywhere in the city—if you wanted to avoid being found?”

  The group was silent at this, knowing that they had nothing to say.

  “And the decision to split up at the start,” Hendrikson added, replaying the initial moments. The group watched themselves scatter, each taking a different path before regrouping. “That was a critical error. You cannot afford to divide your forces in a hostile environment without a solid reason. Stick together. Splitting up weakened you and wasted your valuable time and energy. Next time, maintain cohesion unless there is no other option.”

  Hendrikson folded his arms, surveying the group. “Another major issue,” he continued, “was your lack of a clear strategy. Your objective was to clear out all the Xelarians in the city, yet you had no plan to achieve that. This wasn't a dungeon where enemies come to in waves. You need to understand the difference. You can’t just defend and hope for the best. You needed an offensive plan, a way to proactively eliminate the threats. Instead, you reacted, and it cost you. You have to be the ones setting the pace, forcing your enemies to adapt to you.”

  Jeremy exchanged a look with Marcus and Andrew, a silent promise between them. They had not prepared for an offensive strike, and it showed.

  “Next time, plan your approach before you even step foot in the city,” Hendrikson continued. “Identify key points, routes, and fallback options. Use the environment to your advantage. Don’t trap yourselves in a building without a purpose. I want each of you to come up with a strategic approach for a similar scenario by tomorrow.”

  Jeremy clenched his fists, knuckles whitening. He took a deep breath. “We’re not losing again,” he said, voice steady, conviction clear. “Next time, we’ll be ready.”

  Hendrikson nodded, the faintest hint of approval in his eyes. “Good. Now, get back to work. We’ve got a lot to cover.”

  The group rose, exhaustion still weighing on them, but something else was there now—a renewed determination. A drive to be stronger. They wouldn’t fail again.