The survivors gathered in the center of the debris field.
Fourteen of them. That was the final count.
Arisha had moved through the rubble herself to confirm it, calling names and waiting for responses. Some had answered from beneath broken slabs and been pulled free. Others had already found their way to the group on their own.
Lyria was one of the last to emerge. Two of the surviving tankers had spotted movement beneath a collapsed section of the outer wall and dug her out.
She was in bad shape, a deep gash across her thigh and another along her ribs, her breathing shallow and controlled in the way that meant she was managing pain rather than free of it. Her spear was still in her hand.
She had somehow remained here. Not getting eliminated.
Ophelia had made it out as well. Her katana was sheathed and she was pressing her forearm against a wound on her side, but she was standing and her eyes were clear.
Leonard was not among them.
