Chapters 55 + 56

Chapter 55: A Week to War

Jeremy’s spear shifted on his back as he walked to the classroom. His friends matched his pace, the silence between them heavier than words. Today wasn’t just a lesson—it was a test, the kind that separated soldiers from survivors.

The classroom hummed with machinery, its walls lined with maps crisscrossed by faded ink. Holograms flickered with troop formations. A central table overflowed with blueprints and miniature cityscapes.

Mr. Hendrikson stood silhouetted against a glowing map of a city, casting a commanding shadow. His eyes pinned them the moment they stepped inside.

“On time,” he remarked, his gruff voice tinged with grudging approval. “Good. You’ll need every second today to prove you can think like soldiers, not children playing with sharp toys.”

He gestured to the table, his hand moving with surprising precision for its size. “Today’s focus: offensive strategies in urban warfare. Yesterday I gave each of you a scenario. Today, you’ll present your plan, defend it, and adapt under scrutiny. If it fails here, it fails in the field. Understood?”

Jeremy exchanged a glance with Marcus, whose jaw was set with quiet determination. They straightened their postures, bracing for what was to come.

“Valen,” Hendrikson barked, his gaze locking onto Marcus. “You’re up.”

Marcus stepped forward, his stride steady, though Jeremy caught the slight clench of his fists. Pointing at the map, Marcus’s voice rang clear. “So, my idea is to split the enemy’s focus. We’d send teams here and here,” he pointed, “to draw them away while we hit their weaker spots.”

Hendrikson’s eyes narrowed. “What stops those diversions from being overwhelmed? And what if the enemy adapts faster than expected?”

Marcus hesitated but recovered quickly. “Uh, we’d move quickly—not give them time to pin us down.”

“Interesting,” Hendrikson said, but his tone held doubt. “Comments?”

Perci crossed her arms. “If they’re seen, the enemy could quickly surround them. What’s the backup plan?”

Marcus stiffened, then nodded. “Fallback routes. And maybe we have reinforcements ready, just in case.”

Hendrikson grunted. “Better. But anticipate the unexpected. Dismissed.”

“Perci,” Hendrikson called.

Perci stepped up, moving with the precision of someone who’d already rehearsed this a dozen times in her head. She pointed to a web of alleys on the map. “My plan is all about sneaking around. We avoid the big roads and stick to hidden paths to take out their higher tiered warriors first.”

Hendrikson’s tone stayed sharp. “What’s your extraction plan if infiltration is compromised?”

Perci traced two narrow alleys. “We’d already have our exits figured out. If they find us, we’d distract them and slip out.”

Marcus frowned. “But what if they block your exits?”

“Then we’d go to backup routes,” Perci said calmly. “And I’d leave a small team behind to make some noise and keep them busy.”

Hendrikson’s gaze lingered on her. “A solid foundation. But stealth is fragile. Plan for the worst. Dismissed.”

“Jeremy. Your turn.”

Jeremy’s heart thudded, but he forced his legs to move. At the table, he traced a direct line across the map. “Uh, I think we should go straight at their strongest spot. Hit them hard and fast so they can’t fight back properly.”

Hendrikson raised an eyebrow. “And when you hit resistance you can’t break?”

“We’d keep them busy with ranged attacks and send some people around to hit them from the sides,” Jeremy said quickly.

Perci tilted her head. “Wouldn’t it make more sense to hold some people back from the start?”

Jeremy exhaled. “Yeah, good point. We’d keep a group in reserve just in case.”

Hendrikson’s lips twitched in what might have been approval. “Adaptation. Remember that. Dismissed.”

“Andrew,” Hendrikson barked.

Andrew stepped up, his calm expression masking whatever nerves he might have felt. He circled several buildings on the map. “I think we should hold these spots. It’d make them think we’re a bigger group, and they’d waste time trying to figure us out.”

Hendrikson tilted his head. “But defense alone won’t win a war. How do you turn it into an offensive?”

Andrew nodded. “We’d use decoys to make them think we’re going one way. Then we hit them somewhere they don’t expect.”

Marcus frowned. “What if they just ignore your decoys?”

Andrew’s voice was steady. “The decoys would do stuff—like fake supply runs or reinforcements—to keep them confused. And we’d keep in touch so we can change plans fast.”

Hendrikson’s expression was unreadable. “Not bad. Work on it. Dismissed.”

He surveyed the group, folding his arms. “You’ve shown progress, but war doesn’t care about effort. It cares about results. By the time you step onto a battlefield, I expect perfection. Dismissed.”

The cold air hit them as they exited the classroom, sharp and bracing. Jeremy glanced at his friends. In their eyes was something new: an unspoken understanding of the weight on their shoulders. No one spoke, but they all knew the truth. War wasn’t coming. It was here, and they had one week to prove they could survive it.

The week passed in a blur of classes and city simulations. Each day began with Hendrikson’s booming voice. They practiced urban warfare in the simulation, honing their strategies and adapting to unpredictable challenges. One particularly intense simulation involved navigating a cityscape under constant bombardment from the Xelarians. Jeremy sprinted down a narrow alley, his heart pounding as debris crashed around him. Perci darted ahead, silently taking out a sniper while Marcus barked orders to cover their retreat. Andrew, holding a defensible position, baited enemy units into Perci’s traps. Every misstep was met with sharp critique, but failure only drove them harder.

Jeremy found himself absorbing every lesson, his mind constantly running through countermeasures and possibilities. Yet, doubt gnawed at him in quiet moments. He replayed Hendrikson’s critiques, questioning if his bold strategies were reckless. His focus on overwhelming force felt like the right approach, but what if he led others into danger by underestimating the enemy? More than once, he caught himself waking in the middle of the night, gripping his spear as if he were already on the battlefield.

Every misstep seemed amplified by the silent expectation that he would excel. Jeremy pushed harder during drills, driving himself to exhaustion, hoping that sheer effort would drown out his doubts. He noticed his friends doing the same: Marcus refining his diversions until they flowed like clockwork, Perci perfecting her silent infiltration routes, Andrew balancing his defensive postures with calculated counterattacks. Their teamwork grew sharper, each role fitting into the others like pieces of a puzzle.

By the end of the week, exhaustion clung to them, but so did a newfound confidence. During a rare break between drills, the group gathered by a shaded bench near the courtyard. Marcus passed around water bottles, his expression unusually light. "You know," he said, wiping sweat from his brow, "if we survive the war, I’m claiming a week-long nap."

Perci snorted. "You wouldn’t last a week. Three days in and you’d be itching to boss us around again."

"And you’d miss it," Marcus shot back with a grin.

Mia chuckled softly. "You all can nap and feast after we win. Until then, I’m counting on you to keep me alive."

Perci raised an eyebrow. "Oh, is that how it works? Should we start charging for protection services?"

Marcus tapped his chin in mock consideration. "Interesting offer. Perci and I take turns, and you cover dessert forever."

"Deal," Mia said without hesitation, then added, "unless dessert includes rubber."

The group’s laughter filled the brief pause between drills—a fragile yet comforting moment that reminded them what they were fighting for. They weren’t just soldiers-in-training; they were a family piecing itself together under the shadow of what’s to come.

As the laughter faded, Jeremy’s expression darkened slightly. He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, and spoke in a lower tone. “During our simulations this week… we killed Xelarian civilians.”

The group froze. Marcus’s grin vanished, Perci straightened, and Andrew’s usual calm faltered. “We all did,” Marcus said cautiously. “You know it wasn’t real, right?”

Jeremy nodded slowly, staring at the ground. “It didn’t feel fake. The way they screamed… begged for mercy. I knew it was a simulation, but it still felt wrong.”

Perci’s eyes flicked to Andrew, who looked conflicted but composed. “What was your hesitation about?” she asked softly. “It’s what they’re teaching us. Collateral damage happens in war.”

Jeremy exhaled shakily. “I didn’t hesitate to kill the soldiers. But when it came to the civilians, I just stood there for a moment. And when I finally attacked… it’s not something I want to feel again.”

Andrew broke the silence, his tone firm but sympathetic. “None of us liked it, Jeremy. It’s awful, but it’s part of the scenario. They’re trying to prepare us for situations where we have to make this choice.”

Jeremy’s voice wavered. “Does it prepare us, though? Or does it just make us numb to it?”

Marcus crossed his arms, his brow furrowed. “We’re not supposed to be numb. We’re supposed to understand the stakes. We have to choose between the safety of Humans or Xelarians, and I will always pick us.”

“And what about after?” Jeremy’s voice rose slightly. “When it’s over, how do we live with knowing we made that choice?”

Perci’s voice was sharp, cutting through the tension. “Why would you care about non-humans Jeremy?” Her voice softened, “My brother—he was nineteen, fresh out of school. They sent him to the frontlines, and he never came back." Her gaze was steady at Jeremy, her tone unwavering. "Aliens like these took away my brother, and I’d do anything to make sure no one else ends up like him.”

The question hung in the air like a blade. Jeremy looked at her, unsure how to respond. Finally, Andrew spoke, his voice quiet but steady. “It’s not fair, Jeremy. None of it is. But that’s why we’re here—to learn how to make those calls, no matter how much they hurt.”

Jeremy leaned back, his chest tight but his mind slightly clearer. “Thanks,” he said quietly. “I’m not sure I’ll ever make peace with it, but it helps to know you’re here.”

Marcus clapped a hand on Jeremy’s shoulder. “Always, man. We’re in this together.”

The group’s banter carried on for a few moments, the camaraderie a brief but vital reprieve from the unrelenting pressure. It was in these moments that Jeremy felt the bond between them solidify. They weren’t just training partners—they were a team. The stakes were real now. War loomed over the horizon like a storm, and Hendrikson made sure they felt its weight with every passing hour.

Chapter 56: The War Begins

The academy courtyard was unrecognizable. Once a place of whispered conversations and teenaged drama, it now thrummed with the tension of war. Rows upon rows of students, organized by year, stretched across the expanse. The crisp lines of their formations betrayed an air of discipline, but their faces told a different story—equal parts fear, doubt, and grim determination. Above them, glowing holograms projected the intricate topography of Vexar Prime. The planet's sprawling cities flickered in and out of focus, their names etched in harsh, angular text.

He glanced sideways. Marcus stood a few feet away, his sword laid flat across his back. Beside him, Mia tested the tension of her bowstring, her lips moving in what looked like a silent prayer. Andrew, uncharacteristically focused, adjusted the grip on his mace, his wiry arms flexing with each motion. Their presence grounded Jeremy, even as doubt clawed at the edges of his mind. A subtle nod passed between them, a silent pact that they would see this through together.

"Hey," Marcus said, breaking the silence. "You know we’ve got your back, right?"

Jeremy blinked, caught off guard. He nodded quickly, gripping his spear tighter. "Yeah. I know."

"Good," Marcus replied, smirking faintly as he sheathed his sword. "We’re not letting you play hero alone out there."

Mia lowered her bow and stepped closer, her expression unusually soft. "It’s okay to be nervous, Jeremy. Everyone is. Just... don’t carry it all by yourself."

Jeremy managed a weak smile. "Thanks. I’ll try."

Andrew chuckled, his tone lighter than it had been all morning. "Don’t try. Just do it. And if you mess up, well, that’s why we’re here. To save your sorry butt."

The faint laughter that rippled through the group was enough to ease some of the tension. Jeremy felt a small, fleeting sense of comfort in their words, even as the enormity of their task loomed over him.

Mia glanced toward the rows of other students preparing nearby, her voice quiet but steady. "Do you think they’re as scared as we are?"

Marcus followed her gaze, his smirk fading. "They’d be stupid not to be. But fear’s not the problem—it’s letting it stop you that’ll get you killed."

Andrew adjusted the straps on his mace, his expression pensive. "You think this is how Dad felt? Before his first mission?"

Jeremy hesitated, the question striking a chord. He hadn’t thought about their father in that light—Adrian Hoppins, always so confident in himself. "Probably," he admitted finally. "But he’d never say it."

Marcus chuckled, his tone tinged with admiration. "Your dad’s a hard guy to read. But I bet even he had moments like this. Everyone does."

Around him, the chatter of preparation ebbed and flowed. Jeremy’s gaze drifted to the students further down the line. Some looked ready to charge into battle, their faces set with grim resolve. Others clutched their weapons with trembling hands, eyes darting nervously as if searching for an escape. Jeremy swallowed hard. The simulations had been brutal enough—he couldn’t stop imagining how many of these faces he wouldn’t see again after this mission.

Mia broke the silence. "Do you think it’ll be worth it?" she asked softly, her fingers toying with the edge of her bow. "All of this? Us going out there, fighting a planet that we’ve never heard of before now?"

Jeremy hesitated. He wasn’t sure how to answer. Marcus, however, straightened, his voice low but firm. "It has to be. If we don’t hold the line, who will? My parents always said, 'If you have the power to fight, you have the duty to serve.'”

Jeremy flinched at the mention of Marcus's parents. The memory of their faces flashed in his mind—now lifeless because of his mother. Jeremy forced himself to stay silent, his hands clenching tightly around his spear. Of all the times to tell Marcus, this definitely wouldn’t be the right time.

A quiet determination settled over the group. Around them, the academy courtyard continued to buzz with preparations, but for a brief moment, the four of them felt connected, ready to face the storm together.

The air grew heavy as Headmaster Velorn ascended the central platform, his robes catching the sunlight like gold. His voice, deep and commanding, cut through the courtyard like a blade.

“Students,” Velorn began, his words laced with gravity, “today you cease to be trainees. Today, you become part of humanity’s defenders.”

The courtyard fell silent, every head turning to face the Headmaster. His gaze swept over the assembly, sharp as a predator’s. “You stand on the brink of war. The Xelarians will show no mercy. They will seek to crush our spirit, to destroy our way of life. But we will not falter.”

Jeremy felt his stomach churn as Velorn’s words settled over them. The Headmaster’s voice carried no theatrics, only a cold certainty that made the stakes painfully clear.

“Vexar Prime is a critical battleground. Too long have they stayed a thorn in humanity’s space. Your task is simple yet monumental: reclaim these cities, eliminate all Xelarians, and establish footholds for our forces.”

The holograms above shifted, zooming in on key areas of Vexar Prime. Jeremy’s eyes tracked the glowing outlines of strategic objectives, the names of cities blurring together in his mind. His heartbeat quickened as he realized the enormity of the task before them.

“Remember,” Velorn pressed, “you are not alone. You are part of something greater. Trust in your training, in your equipment, in each other. And know this: failure is not an option.”

Jeremy felt the weight of Velorn’s gaze settle on him for a fleeting moment. Jeremy’s jaw tightened as he straightened his posture, his resolve hardening despite the storm of emotions within.

“May humanity prosper,” Velorn finished, his voice ringing with finality.

The students responded in unison, their voices a thunderous echo: “May humanity prosper!”

As the crowd broke into motion, Jeremy turned back to his friends.

“Ready?” Jeremy asked, forcing the word out through the tightness in his throat.

Marcus smirked. “Ready as we’ll ever be.”

The students began to organize themselves. The academy staff gathered them into large groups, each tasked with a specific city. The sheer scale of the operation made it clear just how critical their role would be in the coming days. Amid the buzz of activity, the sound of Mr. Hendrikson’s booming voice cut through the air, commanding everyone’s attention.

"This," Hendrikson began, pointing at a hologram of a city, "is Varnis. The capital of one of the Xelarians’ major factions, and the most critical objective for this operation. Its tangled streets and towering skyscrapers make it a natural stronghold, but also a death trap for the unwary. Expect urban environments that require adaptability—tight alleyways, multi-level structures, and an ever-present crowd of civilians that you have to eliminate."

He pointed to glowing markers scattered across the city. "There are three key locations you need to prioritize. First, the Central Nexus Tower—here," he tapped the largest marker, "a hub of their communication network. We take it down, and their command structure collapses."

The hologram shifted, highlighting a sprawling industrial district. "Second, the Forge District. This is where they manufacture their war machines. Neutralizing this will cut off their supply chain and weaken their front lines."

The hologram revealed another crucial location: the Grand Conductor Station. Hendrikson’s tone shifted, underscoring its importance. "Unlike us, the Xelarians lack teleportation technology. Their entire transportation network for this continent depends on this station. Securing it will cripple their ability to reinforce or evacuate troops across a vast portion of the planet. Expect heavy resistance here—this is as strategic to them as it is to us."

Finally, the display zoomed in on an ornate building surrounded by fortified walls. "And last, the Atrium of Accord. It used to be a diplomatic center for the city's leaders. Now, it’s where the Xelarians' most powerful commanders gather. We suspect their leader, Krelan, operates from here. If you encounter him, do not engage alone. Krelan and his commanders are at Tier 2, far beyond your current capabilities to take alone."

Hendrikson’s gaze swept over the students, his expression steely. "The stakes are clear. Your groups have been assigned to Varnis because you are the most skilled of your batch. Stay sharp. Work together. And above all, win."

The gravity of his words settled over the students like a heavy shroud. Jeremy’s heart pounded as he absorbed the information. He exchanged a glance with Marcus, whose jaw was set with determination.

Varnis. The name echoed in his mind like a distant drumbeat. He barely noticed when their batch was called forward until Marcus nudged him.

“Hey,” Marcus whispered, his smirk faint but reassuring. “Time to move, Jeremy.”

Jeremy nodded, his grip tightening on his spear. Around him, the group began to file into the teleportation queue, their expressions ranging from grim determination to quiet fear. Mia adjusted her quiver, her fingers brushing the fletching of her arrows with steady purpose. Andrew lingered a step behind, his mace strapped across his back. He placed a hand on Jeremy’s shoulder.

“You’ve got this,” Andrew said, his voice firm and calm.

Jeremy managed a small smile. “We all do.”

Inside the teleportation chamber, the air was thick with the hum of magic. The platform beneath their feet pulsed faintly, attuned to the massive spellwork required to transport so many at once. Jeremy scanned his surroundings, taking in the faces of his batchmates—some familiar, others strangers. Despite their differences, they were united in this moment, bound by the shared weight of the mission.

Instructor Mira entered the chamber, her presence commanding as always. But there was something different about her today. The sharp edges of her voice softened as she addressed the group.

“Listen up,” Mira began, her gaze sweeping over them. “This isn’t a simulation. Out there, it’s life or death, for you and for those who depend on us. Stay sharp, watch each other’s backs, and remember your training.”

Jeremy swallowed hard, the lump in his throat making it difficult to speak. He clutched his spear tightly, its familiar weight an anchor against the rising tide of his nerves.

The teleportation array flared to life, bathing the chamber in blinding light. Jeremy’s vision blurred, his body tingling as the magic took hold. The hum grew louder, a crescendo that seemed to echo in his very bones. He clenched his jaw, his final thought a silent promise: I will keep them safe.