Chapter 14: Back to Beacon

"Ivan, wake up."

I opened my eyes to Aaron crouching beside me.

For a few seconds, my mind lagged behind my body, still caught somewhere between sleep and the cold air around me. Then I remembered where I was. I unzipped the sleeping bag and pushed myself up.

"Did something happen?" I asked.

Aaron shook his head. "Nah, nothing happened. Don't worry. It was quiet. Too quiet, honestly. I almost died of boredom."

I looked around, still trying to fully wake up.

"Where's Captain Sullivan?"

"He went to sleep after checking things around.," Aaron said, then pointed toward a dark silhouette nearby. "Alexander is over there, messing with his gear."

I followed his finger and saw Alexander a short distance away, quietly inspecting his rifle and supplies.

Aaron then pointed toward a narrow opening between the trees.

"That's the main approach," he said. "The captain said if anything comes for us, it'll most likely come through there."

Only then did I understand why Sullivan had chosen this campsite.

It was hidden well enough beneath the trees, with the river covering one side and thick vegetation shielding the others. To reach us, something would either have to pass through that narrow opening or cross the river. And anything crossing the river would make enough noise to alert us before it got close.

"Well, it's your shift now," Aaron said, stretching his neck. "Take care."

I watched him head toward his sleeping bag before turning my attention to my own gear.

There was no point packing everything up. My sleeping bag and backpack could stay where they were for now. All I needed was my rifle and capsules.

Without the extra weight on my back, I felt strangely lighter.

After checking my weapon one last time, I walked over to Alexander.

"I'm ready," I said.

Alexander gave a small nod. "Let's go."

Together, we started moving toward the small outpost.

One thing to note, the campfire was out. There was no light around us except the faint glow of the stars above, and even that barely helped. The darkness swallowed most of the ground in front of us, forcing us to move slowly and carefully with every step.

As we reached the top of the small hill, the makeshift guard post came into view.

Calling it a post felt generous. It was more like a nest built from whatever nature had been willing to provide. Thick branches had been tied together to form a low barrier, with leaves and dry grass woven through the gaps to break its shape from a distance. A few flat stones were stacked near the front, probably to give the guards something solid to rest their rifles on. Behind it, a fallen log served as a crude bench.

It looked old, simple, and almost primitive. But it worked. From that position, the guards could see the narrow opening leading toward our camp, while the trees around them kept their bodies hidden from anything approaching from below.

On the top of the stone was a pair of Night vision binoculars.

I picked them up and pressed them to my eyes. At first, everything looked strange, washed with a green glow. The darkness did not disappear completely, but it thinned enough for shapes to become clear. Trees became outlines. Rocks became shadows with edges. 

There was also a small adjustment wheel on the side. From what I could tell, it controlled the brightness or opacity of the image. Turn it too low, and the world becomes murky. Turn it too high, and the smallest reflection almost hurt to look at. After a few tries, I found a middle setting where the terrain looked clear without blinding me.

I imagined what an Ossarian would look like through it.

A normal one would probably appear as a moving gray-white figure against the darker background, its shape too tall and too wrong to be mistaken for an animal. But an empowered Ossarian would be impossible to miss. If its bones were glowing with Radiance, the night vision would catch that light immediately, turning the creature into a bright beacon, an unnatural shape in the dark.

In other words, if something came at us glowing, we would see it.

The real problem was whether we would have enough time to react. I hope we will not reach that stage.

Ten minutes passed without anything worth noting.

But staring into darkness for too long had a strange effect on the mind. The longer I watched, the more the silence started playing tricks on me. A branch swaying in the wind looked like a figure shifting between the trees. Leaves scraping against each other sounded like footsteps. Even the shadows seemed to breathe if I stared at them long enough.

From what I know, this happens when the mind becomes hyper-alert, where it starts searching for threats in every small movement. Sometimes that was useful. Most of the time, it created false alarms.

We also have a notebook and pen with us. Anything important during the night had to be written down: strange sounds, movement near the perimeter, changes in the weather, possible tracks, or anything that felt out of place. Even if it turned out to be nothing, it was better to leave a note than trust a tired memory.

After a while, Alexander broke the silence.

"I heard Team B got ambushed in the clinic too."

I froze.

"Don't tell me–"

"No," he cut me off quickly. "Nothing happened to her."

"On the contrary," Alexander continued, his voice softening. "From what I heard, Victoria dealt with the ambushers herself. One male Ossarian and one female. Captain Sullivan looked surprised when he heard it over the radio."

"You asked him about Team B?"

Alexander nodded. "Yeah. When they contacted us, they said they were already on the route back to Beacon. The mission went well, aside from the ambush. Captain Maren said it might even be upgraded to Rank E since the Ossarian was present."

He looked toward the darkness beyond the trees.

"I'm just glad they're okay."

"I guess that's good to hear," I said.

For a short moment, neither of us spoke.

Then Alexander glanced at me.

"Do you blame yourself for what happened during the first ambush?"

I stayed quiet.

During watch duty, communication was supposed to be kept to a minimum. Talking too much could give away our position, and in the worst case, an enemy could use our voices to locate us.

But honestly, I did not care.

I had too much sitting inside my chest, and barely thirty minutes of our shift had passed. Once we returned to Beacon, I doubted I would get the chance to talk about any of this properly. Everyone would move on. Training would continue. Missions would continue. 

So I answered.

"Definitely," I said. "You probably didn't notice because you had your plate full at the front, but I didn't help Hannah."

Alexander looked at me.

"I repositioned because it was safer for me," I continued. "I saw her panic. I saw that she was the easier target. And instead of taking a risk to cover her, I moved in a way that gave me a better chance of surviving."

Alexander's expression tightened.

"But I heard she missed her shot."

"We were teammates," I said. "We were supposed to cover each other. I was supposed to cover her, even if she missed."

Alexander lowered his gaze for a moment.

"That doesn't mean her death is your fault."

"It feels like it."

"I know," he said quietly. "Because I feel the same way."

I turned slightly toward him.

Alexander kept his eyes on the dark opening ahead.

"I wanted to help too," he said. "When I saw what was happening behind us, I almost turned around. But Aaron shouted at me, and I had to keep fighting. If I had abandoned the front, the male Ossarians could have reached us. Maybe more people would have died."

He swallowed.

"But knowing that doesn't make it easier."

"No," I muttered. "It doesn't."

Alexander gave a faint, bitter smile.

"I have a sister in Team B," he said. "Trust me, I've thought about every horrible possibility since this mission started."

That silenced me.

He continued, "But if we carry every death like it belongs only to us, we won't last. Not here. Not in this world."

I stared into the darkness.

"So what? We just forgive ourselves?"

"No," Alexander said. "Not that easily."

He shifted his rifle slightly against his shoulder.

"Maybe forgiveness isn't something we can just give ourselves. Maybe it has to be earned." His voice lowered. "If you failed to save one life, then save another. Maybe then you're even. And if you save two…"

He glanced at me briefly.

"Maybe then you can start forgiving yourself."

I said nothing.

It was a simple way to think about it. Too simple, maybe. Life was not a ledger where one death could be balanced by another survival.

But in that moment, I wanted to believe him.

The two of us fell silent again, listening to the river and the movement of leaves in the dark.

For the first time since the ambush, the guilt did not disappear.

But it felt a little less lonely.

After a while, I lowered the binoculars for a moment and glanced toward Alexander.

"Have you been having weird dreams lately?"

He looked at me. "Weird dreams like what?"

"People getting crucified, for example."

Alexander stared at me strangely.

"No," he said slowly. "I don't think so."

"Hm." I looked back toward the darkness. "That's weird."

A short silence passed between us before Alexander spoke again.

"What about the voice?" he asked. "When you first arrived here, did you hear something telling you to survive?"

I turned toward him.

"Yeah," I said. "I heard it."

"In fact," I continued, "I have a couple of theories about it. The voice told us to survive in this world. Not win. Not conquer. Not defeat the Ossarians. Just survive." I tightened my grip on the binoculars. "That choice of words bothers me."

Alexander frowned. "Why?"

"Because it makes it sound like winning was never an option to begin with."

I looked toward the dark treeline.

"But that raises another question. Humans have been here for more than fifty years, right? So how long are we supposed to survive? A year? Ten years? Forever?"

"And there's something else I don't understand," I said. "The Ossarians are dangerous, yes. I've seen that with my own eyes. But are they dangerous enough to wipe out almost every human shelter?"

Alexander's expression turned serious.

"Female Ossarians are terrifying at first," I continued, "but once you understand their pattern, they become more manageable. When they boost themselves with Radiance, they are fast, but their movement is predictable. They struggle to change direction. If you know that, you can prepare for them."

I paused.

"Male Ossarians are worse to deal with. They're stronger, tougher, and far more dangerous up close. If we stumble into one at close range, we're probably dead. But even then, with weapons, formations, and planning, they can still be killed."

Alexander slowly nodded.

"So what are you saying?"

"I'm saying something doesn't add up." I looked at him. "If these are the Ossarians that destroyed humanity, then humanity should have adapted by now. But if they still managed to wipe out shelter after shelter, then maybe we're only seeing the weaker ones."

"You think they can grow stronger?"

"Why not?" I said. "Humans grow stronger with age and training. A teenager isn't as strong as an adult. A recruit isn't as dangerous as a veteran. So why would Ossarians be any different?"

Alexander looked into the darkness, worry creeping into his expression.

"That actually makes sense," he muttered. "What if a female Ossarian can get faster with age? Or worse, what if she can change direction while boosted?"

I did not answer.

He continued, his voice lower now.

"What if a male Ossarian can grow larger when he powers up? Or become too durable for a single capsule to stop unless we hit the head?"

Alexander swallowed.

"If that's true," he said, "then the ones we've fought so far…"

"Were probably not the real monsters," I finished.

"I also think we're using Radiance in a very limited way," I said after a while. 

"Right now, all we do is extract Radiance, store it, and fire it from rifles. But if this energy is powerful enough to kill Ossarians, then why stop there? Why not use it for explosives? Mines? Missiles?"

Alexander stayed quiet.

"Maybe we're not technologically advanced enough," I continued. "Or maybe Beacon doesn't have the resources. But there's another possibility."

He looked at me. "Someone is hiding information."

I nodded. "Exactly."

The thought was not comforting.

If Radiance had existed in this world for longer than fifty years, then someone, somewhere, had to have tried more than rifle capsules. Humans were desperate creatures. Desperate creatures invented dangerous things.

Alexander leaned back slightly, his eyes still on the darkness ahead.

"Either way," he said, "the only real source of truth in this world is power and knowledge. Beacon has both, at least more than we do."

He tightened his grip on his rifle.

"So for now, our only choice is to fight, learn, and adapt."

I looked toward the dark treeline and gave a small nod.

"I couldn't agree more."

After that, time dragged on.

The first few minutes felt tense, but after an hour, the tension slowly turned into boredom.

By the time our shift neared 5:00 AM, I almost missed being afraid. Almost.

"Do you want me to wake them up, or do you want to do it?" I asked.

"I'll do it," Alexander said.

I guessed he had grown tired of sitting still for hours.

After Alexander woke the others, the camp slowly came back to life. 

A few minutes later, Aaron came up to the lookout post.

"Morning," he said.

"Morning," I replied.

"Captain's calling you. I'll take over here."

I nodded and made my way back down toward the camp.

Captain Sullivan was beside the remains of the campfire, preparing breakfast for all of us with the same calm aura around him.

"Good morning, sir," I said. "Nothing happened during guard duty last night as I handed him the notebook and the pen."

"Alexander told me," he replied without looking up. "Boring nights are the safest nights."

He handed something to the driver, then turned toward me.

"Go pack your sleeping bag and check your gear. We'll eat, then move out right after. First, we head to the outpost, pick up Cadet Robinson, and then return to Beacon."

At the mention of Harper, my mood darkened.

"Yes, sir," I said.

I went to the river, washed my face, and tried to wake myself properly. After that, I returned to my spot, rolled up my sleeping bag, attached it to my backpack, and checked my supplies one by one to make sure nothing was missing.

Once everyone was ready, we sat together with the driver and ate breakfast.

After breakfast, we packed the last of our things and prepared to leave.

The journey back to the outpost was smooth.

After everything that had happened yesterday, that almost felt suspicious. 

When the outpost finally came into view, the guard on the hill signaled us to stop again.

This time, the gate opened faster.

Captain Varga was already waiting near the entrance, arms crossed over his chest, his expression hard to read. The moment Captain Sullivan approached, Varga looked past him toward the tanker.

"You made it back," Varga said.

Sullivan gave a short nod. "And the cadet?"

"Alive," Varga answered. "Barely, but stable."

For the first time that morning, some of the tension in my shoulders eased.

Varga continued, "She's still unconscious. We managed to stop the worst of the bleeding and stabilize her breathing, but that's all we can do here. She needs Beacon's medical staff."

Sullivan's expression did not change, but his voice lowered slightly.

"Can she be moved?"

"For now, yes," Varga said. "But carefully. If she worsens on the road, there won't be much you can do."

Sullivan looked toward the gate.

"Then bring her out. We're taking her back."

Varga stared at him for a moment, then nodded to one of his men.

A few minutes later, they carried Harper out on the stretcher. She looked even paler than before, her face wrapped in bandages, her body covered beneath a thin blanket. 

No one spoke as they loaded her carefully into the tanker.

On our way back to Beacon, we found one male Ossarian standing in the middle of the road.

Captain Sullivan raised his hand, and the tanker slowed to a stop.

"Ivan," he said. "Take it out."

My grip tightened around the rifle.

I stepped forward, raised my rifle, and aimed at the Ossarian's chest.

The first shot hit.

The impact forced it back a step, but it did not fall. Instead, its body tensed, and its bone-like protrusions began to glow faintly as it turned toward me.

I pulled the bolt back, ejected the spent capsule, and reloaded.

The second shot struck its shoulder. Not enough. The Ossarian stumbled, but kept moving, dragging itself forward with stubborn, terrifying strength.

One more.

I reloaded again, steadied my aim, and waited until its head lined up with my sight.

Then I fired.

The third capsule struck cleanly.

The Ossarian's head snapped back, and its body collapsed onto the road, finally still.

I lowered the rifle slowly, my hands tense around the weapon.

Captain Sullivan said nothing at first. He only looked at the corpse, then at me.

"Better," he said. "But not good enough."

I could not argue with that.

After extracting what we could from the body, we continued moving.

No more enemies appeared after that.

And at last, after what felt like an endless journey, the walls of Beacon came into view.