"At least the damn thing is finally dead," Julius muttered, popping an empty magazine out of his rifle chassis and smoothly sliding a fresh core-powered clip into place.
"Don't get comfortable. We need to push forward to the east; there should be a higher concentration of devils in that sector," Apollo reminded them, squatting near the carcass of the fallen beast to inspect it. "Remember, the more targets we eliminate—both individually and as a cohesive unit—the more evaluation points we gather. That's our only ticket to graduation."
"Yes, sir," Gamby replied, her voice dripping with a mocking, exaggerated compliance.
"Hey... Hey, guys! Don't forget about me!" Graves shouted, his voice strained as he came jogging back toward the group.
"Oh, look who decided to show up. Honestly thought you'd gotten yourself eaten somehow," Julius remarked with a dubious grin, laughing at the sight of him.
Reaching the safety of the squad, Graves collapsed heavily onto a piece of rubble, completely breathless. Crap! he muttered internally. He lacked the energy to properly fire back at Julius's teasing, which only fueled his irritation.
"Take a moment to rest. We're moving out eastward in exactly sixty seconds, so use this time to catch your breath. Don't slow us down, Graves," Apollo instructed, glancing down at his wrist unit before looking back at the dead lion-devil.
Graves simply waved his hand in acknowledgement while nodding aggressively, physically incapable of forming words.
"Why are you acting completely exhausted anyway? We all had to do a fair share of running out there," Julius continued his playful prodding.
"Give the little pumpkin a break," Gamby chimed in, rolling her eyes at Julius.
"I was the literal bait! What do you mean, why am I breathless? Do you have any idea what it takes to sprint for your life away from a ten-foot monster?" Graves shot back, exaggerating his indignation to cover his tracks.
The terrifying truth was that if Graves had his Gene openend like everyone else in the academy, a short sprint wouldn't have left him this profoundly winded and fatigued. For an unlock gene cadet, a dash like that would cause nothing more than a minor wave of exhaustion. Julius's confusion was completely justified from a tactical standpoint, forcing Graves to scramble for a believable excuse.
"Time's up. Let's move, everyone," Apollo ordered, snapping out of his squat and raising his rifle.
"Yes, sir!" Gamby replied with another salute. She leaned down toward Graves, heavily patting his white hair and intentionally messing it up. "Stand up, little pumpkin. Don't let Julius bully you. Go out there and prove him wrong."
Julius rolled his eyes dramatically. "Oh, for the sake of the Church..."
Sighing, the handsome cadet walked over and extended a hand, firmly pulling Graves up to his feet before offering a teasing wink. The effortless charm on Julius's face only made Graves more annoyed.
"You know... when I first saw that ugly devil charging out of the alley, I honestly thought you two were identical twins," Graves deadpanned rhetorically, staring right at Julius.
Julius's eye violently twitched. "You..." he muttered, his playful demeanor instantly vanishing.
"Enough with the joking," Apollo cut in, his authoritative tone snapping them back to reality. He raised a hand to press the communication pod embedded in his ear. "Winter, we'll be advancing toward the eastern sector. Keep a sharp eye out and maintain our aerial overwatch."
"Roger that,... expect visual updates in a second," her voice crackled back through the comms.
"Alright, let's mov—"
Before Apollo could finish the command, a massive, chaotic screech tore through the ruins. Suddenly, an entire horde of devils erupted from the surrounding dilapidated structures, racing directly toward their position. They looked like miniature, four-foot-tall iterations of the horned lion-devil they had just slain, but what they lacked in sheer scale, they more than made up for in terrifying agility and speed.
Graves's blood ran cold.
Apollo, Gamby, and Julius reacted instantly, sprinting toward defensive cover. Snapping back to his senses, Graves forced his trembling legs to move, desperately trailing after them. Even pushing his human limits, he simply couldn't keep pace with their genetically enhanced strides, trailing visibly behind the pack.
"Take defensive positions!" Apollo barked over the din of the stampede. "You have clearance to fire at will!"
"Where did these fucking urchins even come from?!" Julius yelled, diving behind a jagged concrete slab.
Graves slid right beside him, pressing his back hard against the same reinforced wall. His hands were shaking violently against the grip of his core rifle. He tried to raise the barrel to take aim, but the frantic vibration of his muscles made it completely impossible to secure a clean line of sight on the incoming wave.
Julius glanced sideways, noticing his partner's panic.
"Steady your breathing, Graves. Don't look at them as monsters—see them as nothing more than moving targets. Clear your headspace, lock into a solid stance, and squeeze the trigger. Transition to the next target, and squeeze again. Count your rounds!" Julius commanded, his voice dropping into a calm, rhythmic instructiveness.
"Whatever the boy says, pumpkin, just do it!" Gamby roared from a few paces away. She stepped into the gap alongside Apollo, the two of them furiously unleashing a devastating, synchronized hail of core-powered fire directly into the oncoming horde.