Striving Ordeal

The 4th day of training unfolded like a synchronized dance, where both Wrex and Loria navigated the shifting terrain with precision. The rain fell in torrents, drenching the rusty metal and wooden objects scattered around the training field. The ground, now slippery and unpredictable, was a relentless test of their balance and focus. Despite the chaotic environment, Wrex and Loria moved with an uncanny harmony, as though they had trained together for years.

Both found their designated objects for each other almost simultaneously—Loria selecting a polished, weathered dagger, and Wrex choosing a compact communication device with intricate engravings. When they presented their choices at the end of the exam, their mentor, Qoval, smiled approvingly, his eyes twinkling with pride.

"Not even a spouse knows this much about their partner," Qoval remarked. "You’ve demonstrated remarkable understanding of each other’s strengths and needs. Congratulations—you’re advancing to the 5th day."

A faint sense of relief passed between Wrex and Loria as they left the building, though it was clear Wrex's tension hadn't lessened.

The moment they stepped outside, Loria quickened her pace to catch up with him. "Wrex, wait!" she called, her voice filled with concern.

He slowed but didn’t turn to face her. "What is it, Loria?"

"What’s wrong with you? You’ve been distracted all day. Anxious. Did something happen? Did someone threaten you?"

Wrex paused, exhaling deeply, and finally looked at her. His blue-gray eyes carried a weight that unsettled her. "Don’t worry. Everything is fine," he said, his voice calm but tinged with hesitation. After a pause, he added, "But... I need—no, we need—more allies."

Loria frowned, folding her arms. "Allies? What’s this about? Is this about that mysterious raid you keep hinting at?"

Wrex nodded subtly. "If we want to stand a chance out there, we need to be ready for anything. I know you’re not going to like this, but... we need to find Fozic again."

"Fozic?!" Loria's frustration was immediate. "You think he’s reliable after he bailed on the TSM training? He’s a wildcard, Wrex. If we’re serious about this, we need someone dependable."

"I know he has flaws, but he also knows things. He might be critical for what’s ahead," Wrex replied firmly.

Loria shook her head but didn’t argue further. "Fine. But while you’re hunting down Fozic, I’ll start scouting for someone else to balance the group. We only need five people, right? Let’s make sure they’re worth it."

Wrex gave her a faint smile. "Fair enough. But first, we have to get through this training. No license, no plan."

Qoval informed them that they had two days of rest before the 6th day of training. It would be the hardest yet—a gauntlet designed to push them to their physical and mental limits. Yet, as they parted ways for the night, Wrex and Loria couldn’t shake the feeling that the calm wouldn’t last.

The next day passed in relative peace, with the town bustling under a bright sky. Loria used her free time to discreetly gather information about potential allies, while Wrex spent hours strategizing and mentally preparing for the days ahead. The evening brought a quiet calm, with both retreating to their quarters to rest.

But as the sun dipped below the horizon on the second day, the air grew heavy and electric. The townsfolk whispered about an approaching storm, but the weather wasn’t the only thing stirring unease. Shadows moved unnaturally in the alleys, and figures cloaked in secrecy began to infiltrate the outskirts of the town.

Night fell, and with it came chaos.

A loud crash shattered the peaceful atmosphere, followed by screams echoing through the streets. Wrex, jolted from his rest, instinctively reached for his gear. He threw open the door to find Loria already standing in the hallway, her face pale but resolute.

"What’s happening?" she demanded, her voice steady despite the tension.

"I don’t know," Wrex replied, scanning the surroundings. "But it’s not normal. Something’s wrong."

The storm outside intensified, lightning illuminating the streets in harsh flashes. Through the rain, Wrex and Loria spotted a group of strangers—tall, imposing figures clad in dark, unfamiliar gear. Their movements were precise and coordinated, and their intent was unmistakable.

"They’re not from the Eight Superentis," Loria murmured, her voice barely audible over the thunder.

Wrex’s jaw tightened. "They’re here for us."

The chaos in the town escalated with alarming speed. Sirens blared sporadically, but their usual assurance of safety seemed hollow. Citizens ran through the streets, their faces etched with confusion and fear. The once-reliable Point Touch Zero device, a symbol of ultimate control and order, had failed.

Police forces and security personnel, accustomed to swift resolutions to any unrest, found themselves unable to restore peace. Panic spread like wildfire as people realized that the safety they had taken for granted—the invisible barrier against violence and chaos—had crumbled.

Wrex and Loria, concealed in the shadows of an alleyway, watched the mayhem unfold. Loria clutched Wrex’s arm tightly, her knuckles white.

"The Point Touch Zero device… It’s not working," she whispered, her voice trembling with disbelief.

Wrex’s eyes darted between the fleeing citizens and the ominous group of figures that had invaded their town. "This isn’t a malfunction," he said grimly. "This was planned. They knew exactly what they were doing."

The invaders, now openly walking through the chaos, bore an unmistakable air of authority and defiance. They moved with purpose, their dark uniforms and intricate symbols marking them as something entirely foreign. At their forefront was a man whose presence was magnetic and foreboding. He carried himself with confidence, his sharp eyes scanning the crowd as though he owned the moment.

Citizens who had gathered near the town square froze as he stepped forward. His voice cut through the rain and thunder, commanding immediate attention.

"We are The Normalists," he declared, his tone both calm and resolute. "Your sweet world of dreams must come to an end."

The crowd murmured in confusion, some still clutching the devices they believed would protect them.

The man continued, his words laced with disdain. "The Point Touch Zero device. The Montlaif energy. The perfect system you worship so blindly… all of it is a lie."

His words sent a ripple of shock through the gathered people. Murmurs turned into frantic questions as the weight of his statement began to sink in.

"Impossible!" someone shouted from the crowd. "The Point Touch Zero device has kept us safe for decades! Who are you to say otherwise?"

The man smirked, his expression devoid of empathy. "Kept you safe? No. It’s kept you complacent. Weak. Blind to the truth of your world."

Wrex and Loria watched from the shadows, their minds racing. The Normalists weren’t just disrupting the peace—they were systematically dismantling the very foundation of the Eight Superentis.

Loria leaned closer to Wrex, her voice barely above a whisper. "We have to move. If they’re targeting the Montlaif energy and the Point Touch Zero device, they’re not just after us. They’re after everything."

Wrex nodded, his jaw clenched. "But why here? Why now?"

Before Loria could respond, another voice rang out from the crowd—a woman this time, her tone sharp and accusatory.

"You think you can just waltz in here and take everything we’ve built? Who do you think you are?"

The leader of the Normalists turned his gaze toward her, his smirk widening. "Who are we? We are the ones who refuse to live in a gilded cage. We are the ones who see the rot beneath your polished surface. And we are here to tear it all down."

His words were punctuated by a sudden flash of lightning, illuminating the storm-soaked square. The Normalists stood unmoving, their resolve unshaken by the growing chaos around them.

The man raised his hand, silencing the murmurs of the crowd. "You’ve lived in a dream for too long. It’s time to wake up. The Montlaif, the energy, everything you hold dear… it’s all coming to an end."

As his words hung in the air, a deafening crack echoed through the square. A towering structure, once a beacon of technological prowess, crumbled under its own weight. The storm intensified, as though nature itself conspired with the invaders.

In the confusion, Wrex and Loria slipped away, their minds racing with questions. Who were the Normalists? How had they bypassed the Point Touch Zero device? And what did this mean for the future of the Eight Superentis?