Norok and Kell made their way through the woods under the shadow of the rival squad’s tower. With one arm thrown over Kell’s shoulders and the other braced around his own battered torso, Norok grunted and huffed with every step nearer. All around them, he could see traces of Irina: Trees cut cleanly through, with nothing but smooth stumps to show they had grown there at all, and bullet-ridden trunks that must have served as quick cover for the spirited blond.

  If he could beat Rik, then there was no doubt in his mind that Irina had already claimed her victory and was already fighting atop the tower with the other two. But that didn’t stop his heart from dropping as a flash of silver made itself known in his peripheral vision.

  “Kell,” Norok wheezed, stopping to point with his chin towards the pile. Amidst the ruined foliage and fallen trees, there was a pair of uniformed legs sticking out, the rest of the body crushed by a log. He couldn’t see the rest of the body, but the legs were completely motionless. That was enough cause for alarm in Norok’s mind.

  In unison, both Norok and Kell rushed towards the figure, Kell ducking to wrap his arms around her waist. “H-hold on, Irina, I’ve got you!!”

  Norok flicked his wrist out weakly, sending the log flying with surprising ease. After scuffling with Rik for so long, moving inanimate objects felt like a breeze. As Kell pulled the body from the wreckage, Norok noticed his shoulders immediately slump. He quickly stood up, backing away and taking Norok with him.

  “Whoa, hey, hey,” Norok said, “I know we don’t love the girl, but Will would have a field day if we didn’t pick her up.”

  “No, it’s not that,” Kell replied. “It’s-- That’s not Irina.”

  Norok looked down at the girl. Sure enough, it wasn’t Irina before them. The uniform matched down to the muddied boots and the blade emblems lining the cuffs, but the perfectly manicured nails and darker skin tone was clearly not their teammate. It was Leka, unconscious with two badly broken arms and a nasty gash across her forehead.

  “I guess that makes more sense,” Norok said dumbly.

  “Honestly yeah, that was on us,” Kell agreed.

  “What’re we looking at, boys?” The chirpy voice from behind sent chills down Norok’s spine. He turned to see the gleeful trickster Frode approaching. Rik and Zia were both thrown over his shoulders as he stepped closer towards them, neither showing signs of life. Frode himself looked like he hadn’t taken a single hit all of bootcamp, with his unsettlingly pale skin and eager yellow eyes. Norok stepped forward, but suddenly he wasn’t facing Frode anymore. He was behind where he had seen Frode, with Kell standing right next to him with an equally baffled expression. They turned to see Leka gently placed horizontally across Zia and Rik’s backs, pillowing against the back of Frode’s head.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  “I’m so glad you guys found her,” Frode said enthusiastically. “It would’ve taken forever to find where Smirnov left her. That chick is pretty good at hiding things!”

  “When she wants to be,” Norok muttered.

  “You know,” Frode continued, “Rik’s only lost once before this bootcamp. Once like, ever, and that was to a real squad captain. But both of you brought that record to an end.”

  He brought his hands together, grinning with an uncomfortably wide mouth that set every nerve in Norok’s body. “Congratulations are in order, don’t you think?”

  Suddenly, Frode disappeared into thin air, leaving no trace of him or the rival members he had stacked upon his shoulders. Norok felt something brush his side, staggering away from it on instinct. Frode had reappeared in that space, this time without the dead weight to keep him cautious. He turned, smirking at Norok's clumsy reaction.

  “Chill, dude,” Frode said lightly. He raised his hands, raising his pointer and middle fingers, moving them back and forth. There was nothing in his hands, but Norok could feel something moving the air. “I'm just finishing up the job. The captain's already made quick work of the rest of your squad. Now we're just going for a perfect score.”

  “Norok, duck!!” Kell screamed, just as Frode launched his right hand forward. Norok dropped in a low squat, feeling the invisible weapon soar over him and thunk into a tree. With wide eyes, Norok watched as a steep crack ruptured from a hole the size of his fist in the trunk.

  “It's mirror magic,” Kell explained, avoiding the second attack. “He's messing with the light to change the appearance of his weapons.”

  Frode reached over his shoulder, twirling his fingers in the air again. He scowled at Kell. “No one likes a narc, Kell. No wonder they stuck you with Saint…”

  Frode threw another shot at Norok, causing Norok to roll closer to Kell to avoid the hit. His whole body seemed to be screaming in pain with every breath. Steadying himself, he grabbed Kell by the face and pulled him down. Kell’s face burned bright crimson, but Norok ignored it. He could make fun of him later for that-- right now, all that mattered was his breathing. Slowly, Norok pushed his nose into the tip of Kell’s, and whispered, “Let the others know we're on our way.”

  Mana ebbed from his skin, moving through Norok to enter Kell. It had been a long time since he had done this. Long before joining Fable’s military, before running away from the facility with Daimona. He remembered the calloused hands that used to take his, the sharing of magic just as warm as the usage.

  It was an act of trust, Norok thought, and right now, he trusted Kell. Quickly, Norok repeated, “Show them we're about to win.”

  Frode reeled back, ready to send another unseeable projectile. But Kell stopped him, clapping his hands together with a blinding crackle of light. The sound of the sudden gust of fire was as loud as thunder, engulfing Frode completely before Kell redirected towards the sky, a blazing beacon rising beyond the floating towers and bathing the horizon in a hazy red.