1st Person View | Scout's PoV
Christian swears under his breath and the door to the hallway opens a crack. I can hear muffled voices. Outside, I hear a soft metallic rattle. Something is scuttling against the fence.
"I just got a notification about a Safe Zone alert," Christian says. "We're looking at a perimeter breach. Multiple hostiles have been detected near the south wall, but it's a low signature. If I had to guess, it's probably a goblin horde."
Goblins. My stomach drops. Goblins are small and quick and absolutely terrible at not being murderous. They are the bane of beginners and rookies in Sablethorn. I was able to pick one off earlier, but that's because I had…what, two dozen armored meat shields in front of me?
I try to sit up, but my limbs betray me. My muscles complain.
He turns and looks at me. "Scout, stay. You're exhausted. Anna will take you to the med tent if you can't sleep."
My mouth says no because my body already wants to move. My hands clench around the blanket. "I can help," I insist.
"No." He's already stepping out into the hall. "Anna. Marco. I need at least five men at the south gate. Bring the torches. Tell everyone who can fight to get outside and gather up at the field."
I swing my feet to the floor. The wood creaks, and Christian's eyes find mine. "You'll get caught," he sighs. "You'll be more danger than help."
There's a small, stupid voice in me that whispers: everyone's scared and you should be fighting; you did not train to be on the sidelines.
As much as I want to listen to that voice, I know it's just my pride. I've run out of arrows, I have a headache, my back hurts, and my legs are jelly. Still, I could fight if I got more arrows…
I try to swallow my pride. My legs are shaking as I slide off the cot. "At least let me—"
"Look at me, Scout." He comes closer. "Stay. Rest up. You'll be useful tomorrow or you won't be useful at all. I need you alive. Solution needs you alive."
I want to be mad. I want to be stubborn. I want to have a scene of heroic refusal.
Instead, I just nod and lie back down.
I hate this so much. I feel like a helpless little girl all over again.
Christian exhales. "Good. Get some sleep, alright? I'll handle it." He picks the blanket up and gently lays it over me.
He gives me one last look, then turns and disappears through the door, shutting it behind him.
I stare at the door after he leaves. The hallway's already filled with shouts and hurried steps, Christian's voice rising above the noise. He's calling out orders and names, laying out a strategy. All things I should be a part of.
But I'm not. I'm here, useless.
The moment he's gone, I pull the blanket off me and sit on the edge of the cot. My hands won't stop shaking, but it's not from fear.
It's from fury. The kind that burns and crawls up your throat, begging to get out.
Rest. Be useful tomorrow.
I can be useful tomorrow, or I can be useful tonight.
It does not take much contemplation to come to a decision.
I open my inventory. The blue shimmer flickers in the air, displaying my meager list of items. A dagger, a few rations…
There it is. My darling crossbow.
I materialize it in my hands. Cold metal and a leather grip presses into my palms. I stand, wobbling for a second as the dizziness hits, then brace against a desk. The cot creaks behind me.
I shouldn't go. Christian's right.
…but I can't lie here while everyone else bleeds and dies. I can't go back to that.
No. Not this time.
I grip the crossbow tighter and head for the door, keeping my footsteps soft. The corridor outside is dimly lit by the golden shimmer of the Safe Zone barrier through the windows.
Loud voices echo from down the hall: Anna's shouting orders, and a few people are dragging crates. Nobody notices me.
I slip into one of the storage rooms and start rummaging. Sports equipment, boxes of paper, a mop bucket, magazines…useless junk. I kneel by the wall, push a crate aside, and grin when I spot what I'm looking for: a quiver of training arrows from the archery club. Wooden shafts, dull tips — not ideal, but better than nothing.
I grab them all.
The noise outside is growing louder now. I slide the quiver across my back and check the crossbow's tension. Helpless my ass.
Despite my will to persevere, my heart's hammering so hard it feels like the world's shaking with it.
When I reach the stairwell, I see the glow of torches flickering near the courtyard. Christian's out there, calling for barricades and positioning students in formations.
I take a breath, trying to steady my pulse. Every bit of exhaustion, fear, and doubt sinks beneath one simple thought: I'd rather die fighting than live waiting.
…Which, on second thought, sounds a lot braver in my head than it looks right now. With me limping down a dark hallway, clutching a crossbow that squeaks every time I move, I probably don't look very heroic.
Outside, the night shines a gold shimmer from the Safe Zone barrier. It's bright enough to cast long, twitchy shadows, but not enough to see what's making them. The kind of lighting setup every horror movie tells you to avoid.
Okay. It's just goblins. Little green psychos with knives. Totally fine. I've killed, like… one before. With help. But it still counts.
Yeah. Everything will be fine. Totally fine.
Something screeches outside, followed by a thud that shakes the building. My heart tries to leap out of my chest and leave me behind.
Alright, scratch that. Maybe slightly not fine.
I carefully keep walking down the hall, until I finally make it outside. Stepping out, the courtyard's alive with motion. A flash of orange lights up the sky—
The explosion rocks the ground so hard I stumble, one hand grabbing the doorframe to stay upright. The shockwave ripples through the barrier.
Oh, great! They have magic now. Because clearly, this wasn't stressful enough!
My ears are ringing. If my legs were already jelly, they've turned into paste now. I'm 80% sure I just developed new anxiety in real time.
Through the smoky haze, I can see students scrambling to get into their positions. Christian's yelling orders louder now.
I swallow the fear crawling up my throat.
Okay, Scout. Breathe. You're fine. You've got arrows. You've got a crossbow. You've got—
Another impact shakes the ground, this time closer.
—emotional damage. You've definitely got that.
My hands are trembling, but I pull back the crossbow string anyway. It creaks under the strain.
They can throw all the fireballs they want. I'm not sitting this one out.
I sprint across the courtyard, or at least try to. It's more like a half-run, half-limp that I'm praying no one notices. My legs are protesting, my lungs are burning, and my brain keeps reminding me that I should be horizontal somewhere safe and unconscious.
"Hey! Christian!" I yell, dodging a kid carrying a bucket of water. "Status report, Captain Buzzkill!"
He whips around, and the look he gives me could vaporize lesser mortals. His hair's a mess, there's soot on his face, and his usual calm expression has been replaced by a devilish glare. "You're supposed to be resting!"
"I'm multitasking!" I shout back. "What are we looking at?"
He exhales. By the look on his face, he's debating whether to yell or throw me back into the building. "Fine. You're already here, make yourself useful."
His gaze shifts toward the shimmering field of gold light, where small, misshapen silhouettes are darting back and forth. "We've got confirmation: thirty-six dagger goblins, fifteen archers, two casters…"
His eyes narrow. "And one commander."
Not good. Goblin Commanders are rare; they're smarter and meaner than your average goblin. We're all aware that goblins are known for being stupid. They are the definition of animal instincts, only caring about killing, mating, stealing, and most of all, self-preservation.
However, Goblin Commanders are scary, because they are the kind that actually strategize. I really don't like the idea of an intelligent creature directing an army of those little green bastards.
The barrier flares again, gold turning red for a split second before flickering back.
Christian keeps talking. "They're organized! The commander's calling their shots! If we take it out, their morale drops and they scatter!"
He points toward the treeline where faint movement catches the torchlight. "If we strike the head, the body will fall!"
A few of the students shout in response, clearly eager to take out the one responsible for their interrupted sleep.
I'm trying to be brave too, but my heart's hammering so loud I can practically feel it in my teeth.
I squint at the barrier. It's not looking great. The glow's dimmer and the shimmer is uneven.
"Hey, boss?" I say. "Any chance this thing holds forever, or are we on a timer?"
Christian glances back at the barrier, then at me. "You could call it that. It's holding, but barely. The shield's resistant to simple attacks, but that fireball earlier…"
"Yeah?"
"The system flagged it as a 'siege weapon.'"
I blink. "A what now?"
"Meaning," he says, "one more of those and the barrier's gone. The integrity is at 9%."
"Fantastic," I mutter. "Love that for us."
Almost on cue, a shrill screech cuts through the night — the sound of something small and angry.
Beyond the barrier, the goblins start moving again, faster now. I can see their eyes glowing green, dozens of them. A harsh, guttural roar echoes across the field, and the others answer back. The commander.
"Positions!" Christian shouts, spinning toward the students. "Archers, draw! Melee fighters to the barrier! We are fighting a defensive battle, people; no heroics! Follow protocol!"
I take my place next to Christian, my hands trembling as I load an arrow. I try to steady it as I try to steady myself.
I can do this. In fact, I've totally got this. This is fine. Everything's gonna be okay.
There's a sudden boom. The explosion lights up the entire schoolyard in orange, and heat washes over me like an opened oven door. The barrier holds… for about two seconds.
Then it flickers, shudders, and starts cracking like glass. Christian swears so loud I can hear him over the ringing in my ears.
"Well," I say faintly, staring at the web of golden white fractures spreading across the sky, "so much for that timer."
The cracks spiderweb slowly, and then the barrier shatters.
The golden light collapses inward, dissolving into shards of energy that vanish before they hit the ground. The world feels too open now. Somewhere in the dark, something laughs.
"Guess that's the cue," I mutter, lifting the crossbow. "Showtime."