Negative Retry

Wrex awoke with a start, the faint glow of strange writing etched on the walls around him casting a pale light over the otherwise shadowy tunnels. He tried to calm his racing heart, but the eerie atmosphere only intensified his unease. The writing on the walls—symbols that looked neither familiar nor human—seemed to shift when he stared too long. He squinted, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t decipher them.

“Stay calm,” he whispered to himself. “Figure it out, one step at a time.”

As he ventured further into the labyrinthine passageways, he came across a screen embedded into the wall, flickering weakly. It displayed an incomplete map, parts of it fading in and out, almost mocking his attempt to navigate. He was lost, alone, and utterly unarmed. Just as he considered retracing his steps, a strange, humanoid figure materialized ahead of him.

“Intruder detected,” it said in a distorted voice, raising a compact, gun-like weapon. Without thinking, Wrex darted into the nearest tunnel on his left. As he ran, a piercing beam of light hit him directly in the head. His vision blurred, his legs gave out, and he collapsed into darkness.

Aboveground, in the midst of the war game, Loria and Fozic were making swift progress. They moved like a synchronized machine, capturing their first store with precision. Loria’s quick thinking paired seamlessly with Fozic’s sharp instincts, though she couldn’t shake the sense that there was something unnervingly familiar about his style.

“Nice work,” Fozic said, his tone casual, yet there was an undertone that made Loria’s stomach churn.

“Yeah,” she replied cautiously, eyeing him as they moved toward their next target. His movements were efficient, his decisions calculated, but there was a certain stiffness to his approach—like someone who wasn’t used to being part of a team.

Fozic noticed her hesitation. “You’re doubting me.”

“I’m just trying to figure out your angle,” she said, her voice clipped. “You move like someone who’s playing a long game.”

He chuckled but said nothing. The two pressed on, their second store coming into view. While Loria prepared a distraction, Fozic secured their position with ease, demonstrating uncanny physical prowess.

Meanwhile, the war game’s overseers observed intently through green-labeled screens in the control room. Each participant’s stats—strength, stamina, tactics—were displayed in real-time. One of the supervisors leaned forward, his expression grim.

“Loria and Fozic are performing exceptionally. They might be worth considering for...” He trailed off, exchanging a glance with his colleague.

“Not yet,” the other replied. “We need more data. Push them harder.”

Wrex regained consciousness to find himself lying on the cold floor of a stark, brightly lit room. His body refused to move, and his voice caught in his throat when he tried to speak. In front of him, three humanoid figures stood motionless, their faces obscured. They spoke in a language that bypassed any translation technology he knew—words that resonated directly in his mind, though their meaning was lost to him.

Their questioning ceased abruptly, and the room was flooded with an intense white light. A large screen above displayed a cryptic message in bold:

Countdown: 100

Small robotic devices poured into the room from hidden compartments, their mechanical hum growing louder as the countdown began. Wrex’s instincts kicked in. He tried to force his way out, only to be intercepted by the three humanoid figures. A fight ensued, showcasing the strength and agility he had honed over years of training.

His strikes were precise, his ability to read their movements uncanny. He managed to destroy one of the humanoid figures, but the countdown ticked dangerously close to zero. The remaining two cornered him, locking him in place just as the timer hit 15. The room went pitch black, and a low hum filled the air.

The screen flickered back on, displaying a single line of text:

Congratulations. You are now invited to the Raid.

Back in the war game, Loria and Fozic captured their third store in a triumphant final push. Despite being down one teammate, their tactical brilliance secured victory. The mentor, watching from above, frowned.

“Something’s wrong,” he muttered. “End the game early.”

His supervisors dismissed his concerns. “We’re getting the data we need. Let it play out.”

Loria, though outwardly calm, felt her anxiety mounting. She had noticed Wrex’s absence earlier and couldn’t ignore the nagging sense that something was very wrong. A man in the shadows approached her just as the game concluded.

“Don’t haste your way up,” he said in a low voice. “Play the game.”

She stiffened, her mind racing. “What are you saying?”

“The plan is in motion. Have a little faith.”

When Wrex finally emerged from the labyrinth, he was alone in a dimly lit room. Two items lay before him: a key and a USB-like device. Alongside them was a handwritten note. One side of the note bore instructions on how to behave upon leaving—how to meet his friends without drawing attention. The other side contained a cryptic message that left him reeling.

As he read the final lines, the paper began to dissolve, the ink vanishing into nothingness. Whatever it contained was meant for his eyes only.

Reuniting with Loria and Fozic, he feigned normalcy despite the storm brewing within him. They celebrated their victory, but beneath the surface, each of them harbored secrets that would shape the trials to come.

Meanwhile, training in Longof continued, shaping the group’s skills and teamwork further. But beneath the surface of their preparation, a new threat loomed—a kind of invasion, its form and purpose still shrouded in mystery.

hough the group appeared to bond during the celebration, a silent war brewed between Loria and Fozic. Both were wary of the other, their suspicions thickening with every passing moment. Loria couldn’t shake the thought that Fozic might be a spy—a plant by the government of the 8 Superentis, sent to monitor or manipulate them. His calculated movements and eerie efficiency didn’t align with the typical demeanor of a recruit.

On the other hand, Fozic’s instincts screamed that Loria wasn’t who she claimed to be. Her strategic brilliance and uncanny ability to read situations made him wonder if she was an outsider—someone from beyond the known borders, perhaps even a spy from the forgotten true residents of the world.

Neither voiced their concerns, but the tension crackled like static in the air. For now, they would play their roles, all the while keeping one eye on their supposed ally. The seeds of distrust had been sown, and their next move would determine whether those seeds took root or withered in the face of a greater threat.