Chapter 9: End of the Fight

Captain Sullivan scanned the battlefield in a single glance. At the front, Alexander and Aaron were both reloading, while the two wounded male Ossarians continued advancing. They were injured, but not finished. Sullivan knew they still had a few seconds before those things reached them, thus he could choose to ignore them for now

The rear had no such luxury.

His eyes moved toward Hannah just in time to see her body thrown from the ground in a spray of blood. Then his gaze snapped to me. I was reloading, my face locked in desperate focus, my rifle already turning toward the blood-soaked female Ossarian. For a fraction of a second, Sullivan seemed ready to move in my direction.

Then I fired.

The shot struck the female Ossarian in the chest, forcing her body to seize and drop to one knee. Sullivan’s expression eased slightly with relief. One danger had been stalled, which meant his attention could move to the next.

His eyes immediately shifted toward Harper’s side, and his expression tightened again.

She was already on the ground, pinned beneath the female Ossarian, and whatever was happening there could no longer be called a fight. Harper was not defending herself anymore. Her body only jerked with each blow, limp and helpless, while the creature tore into her with every punch.

By then, her face was so badly damaged that it was hard to recognize the person who had been standing beside us only minutes ago.

Sullivan had a loaded weapon. That was the worst part. He could shoot, but from where he stood, firing meant risking Harper’s life as much as the Ossarian’s. The two bodies were too close, tangled together. One wrong angle, one small shift, and the shot would tear through Harper instead.

So he made his decision. He lowered the rifle just enough to move, then rushed toward Harper’s side, closing the distance as fast as his legs could carry him.

Alexander saw the carnage unfolding behind us.

For a moment, his focus broke. His eyes moved toward Hannah’s body, then toward Harper being beaten into the ground, and guilt twisted across his face. He wanted to turn back. I could see it clearly. Every part of him was screaming to help.

But Aaron’s shout snapped him out of it.

“Alexander! Focus!”

Alexander clenched his jaw and forced his eyes forward again.

The male Ossarians were still in front of them, wounded but not dead. That was the problem with males, they could endure far more shots than the females. If one of them managed to close the distance, neither Aaron nor Alexander would survive. They were stronger, faster, and tougher than any human, even without fully using Radiance.

At close range, it would not be a fight. It would be an execution. So no matter how much Alexander wanted to help, he had no choice. Before he could even think about saving anyone else, he and Aaron had to finish the enemies in front of them.

I looked across the battlefield and saw Captain Sullivan closing in on the female Ossarian from behind. At first, anger flared in my chest. He looked too calm, too controlled, too untouched compared to the rest of us. While everyone else was bleeding, panicking, or barely holding together, he moved as if this was just another mission.

Then I saw Harper. Her situation was far worse than I had realized, and suddenly Sullivan’s plan became obvious. He could not shoot from a distance without risking her life. The only way to kill the Ossarian cleanly was to get close, find the right angle, and put it down without hitting Harper in the process.

Captain Sullivan closed the distance from behind, raised his rifle at a careful angle, and fired directly into the Ossarian’s head. The shot landed cleanly. The creature collapsed, and Harper fell with it.

I forced myself to look away almost immediately. I could not handle the state of her body, not her face, not the blood, not the way she lay there barely recognizable beneath the thing that had almost killed her.

Instead, I turned my rifle toward Alexander and Aaron’s side. 

Their situation was not that bad, at least it was controlled. The male Ossarians were still standing, but both were wounded and slowing down. I aimed at the nearest one and fired, striking it hard enough to stagger it.

That was all Alexander and Aaron needed.

Alexander followed with a clean shot, while Aaron finished the second one moments later. One after another, the remaining Ossarians fell, until the battlefield finally began to quiet.

I reloaded my weapon first, afraid that something else might appear. Only then did I rush toward the tanker.

The driver was still inside, curled beneath the dashboard with his arms over his head, shaking so badly that he looked like he had forgotten how to move. The tanker had been positioned farther ahead for a reason. If anything attacked, we were supposed to draw its attention before it reached the vehicle. Most of the danger would fall on us, not the tanker.

I yanked open the passenger door and leaned inside, ignoring the driver’s trembling breaths as I searched the glove box. My fingers found a medical kit, and I pulled it out before sprinting back toward Harper.

When I reached her, my stomach twisted.

Harper was lying on her back, barely moving. Her uniform was torn and soaked through with blood, her chest rising in shallow, uneven breaths. One side of her face was swollen beyond recognition, smeared with dirt and red, and her body looked too fragile, too broken, as if one wrong touch would finish what the Ossarian had started.

“Is she alive?” I asked, my voice rough.

Captain Sullivan was already kneeling beside her, pressing his hands against one of her wounds.

“Yes,” he said. “Barely. Go get medical supplies. Now.”

“Here,” I said, pushing the kit toward him. “Take it.”

Surprise flickered across his face. He had not expected me to have it already.

He took the kit without wasting a second and tore it open.

I stepped back. I did not know enough about first aid to help, and even if I did, I doubted it would have made much difference in a situation like this.

While Sullivan worked on keeping Harper alive, Aaron and Alexander rushed toward us. Alexander was the first to speak, his face pale.

“How is she?”

I cut him off before panic could spread any further.

“Captain’s helping her. Form a circle. Now.”

A circle formation was a basic defensive tactic used when a squad was surrounded or outflanked. Everyone faced outward, covering a different direction, creating a full 360-degree perimeter with no exposed flank.

We moved into position.

But the real reason I gave the order was guilt.

I could not stand there and do nothing. I could not keep looking at Harper. I could not keep thinking about Hannah. So I buried myself in something practical, something useful, something that made me feel like I still had control.

But I knew the truth. I had used the weakness in our formation to survive.

I had gambled that Hannah would be targeted instead of me. Maybe I could have saved her if I had taken a greater risk. Maybe if I had moved differently, aimed faster, or thrown myself into danger, she would still be breathing.

But I had not. And the worst part was that if time turned back, I knew I would probably make the same choice again.

That thought did not ease my guilt.

It made it worse.

From my side of the formation, I could still see Hannah’s body.

It was hard to believe that the broken thing on the ground had once been human. Her limbs were twisted unnaturally, her uniform torn and dark with blood. Her face still carried that final look of terror, frozen in the moment she realized death had reached her. She had been scared. She had panicked. She needed help.

And I had let the battlefield choose her. My chest tightened.

A burning lump rose in my throat, painful and impossible to swallow. I tried to force it down, tried to focus on the ruins ahead, on my rifle, on anything except the body lying behind me.

But I failed.

Before I even realized it, I was sobbing.

Aaron and Alexander could not see my face from their positions, but they could hear me. Aaron said nothing.

Alexander looked toward me.

And from the look in his eyes, he had finally realized I was carrying the same guilt he was.

And beneath that guilt, there was something worse.

Fear.

If this could happen to Hannah and Harper during an F-rank mission, then what would happen to Victoria if her team ran into something unexpected? What would become of his sister if Team B walked into an ambush of their own?