Asher moved in beside Mercer and Elliot without saying anything, draping one of their arms over each of his shoulders. They leaned into him almost immediately, their weight heavy, their steps unsteady.
They weren't the only ones. All around them, recruits were helping each other back, supporting whoever couldn't make it alone. No one had been told to do it. It just happened.
Mercer barely had the energy to stay upright, but he was aware enough to notice how easily Asher carried both of them. It didn't make sense.
Asher was strong, that much was obvious, but this was different. Mercer could feel his own weight dragging down, could feel how little strength he had left to contribute, and yet Asher didn't slow.
'How is he not struggling…? He ran the same course. He dragged the same weight. He should be just as exhausted as the rest of us.'
Mercer didn't say anything, but the thought stuck with him. By the time they reached the barracks, his body felt like it was running on nothing. Asher guided him to his bunk first.
The moment Mercer sat down, whatever control he had left gave out. He let himself fall back onto the mattress, his limbs heavy and unresponsive. Even adjusting his position took effort he wasn't sure he had. His legs hung halfway off the bed before he forced himself to shift them up, settling into an awkward position that he didn't bother fixing.
His chest rose and fell slowly as he tried to catch his breath.
Elliot made it up to the top bunk, though it wasn't easy. He had to pull himself up in stages, pausing halfway before forcing himself the rest of the way. Asher steadied him when he could, but even he couldn't do all the work for him.
When Elliot finally got onto the mattress, he let out a long, tired exhale.
"Damn…" he muttered under his breath.
Mercer let out a quiet breath that almost turned into a laugh.
"Yeah," he said. "That sounds about right."
There was a brief silence before Mercer lifted his arm slightly, his fist loosely clenched.
"Thanks, Asher," he said, his voice rough but genuine. "For earlier… and just now."
Asher looked at him for a second, then gave a small nod.
"Don't worry about it," he said.
He leaned down and tapped his fist lightly against Mercer's.
"Get some sleep. You're going to need it."
Mercer let his arm fall back onto the bed, not arguing. Asher straightened and turned toward his own bunk.
"See you tomorrow."
Neither Mercer nor Elliot responded right away. They didn't need to. Within minutes, the room had gone quiet, filled only with the slow, heavy breathing of exhausted bodies finally giving in to rest.
Another week passed, though it didn't feel like one. The days blurred together into the same cycle of exhaustion. Early mornings, relentless drills, and just enough rest to do it all over again. By now, the recruits weren't just tired. The fatigue had settled deeper than that, sitting in their bones, following them even when they slept.
Still, no one complained. Not out loud. By the time they were marched out that night, the sun had already disappeared beyond the horizon.
What waited for them wasn't another stretch of forest or a training field. It was a town. Or at least, something that used to be one.
The buildings stood in uneven rows, most of them worn down and hollow, their windows either shattered or missing entirely. Faded signs hung loosely from storefronts, swaying slightly in the night breeze. The cracked roads and scattered debris made it clear the place hadn't been lived in for a long time.
The moonlight didn't do much to soften it. If anything, it made the place feel colder. Mercer stood with the others, taking it in.
'So this is where we're training now…'
There was something about it that immediately put him on edge. It wasn't just unfamiliar, it felt staged in a way he couldn't fully explain, like the place was waiting for something to happen.
He shifted his grip slightly on the rifle in his hands. It felt real, that was the problem.
The weight, the balance, even the way it rested against his shoulder, it was close enough that his body reacted to it the same way it would a live weapon. He knew it wasn't real, but that didn't stop the tension building in his chest.
Around him, a few other recruits were doing the same thing, adjusting their grips, glancing down at their weapons like they were trying to reassure themselves.
Their gear had changed too. The vests were familiar, but the small green lights on the shoulders blinked faintly in the dark. The helmets had them too, a single light fixed at the center. It wasn't bright, but it was enough to make each of them visible if you looked hard enough.
Somewhere ahead, in the dark between those empty buildings, something was waiting for them to make the first move.