"Team 2489 has successfully retreated. They're now awaiting further instructions," a soldier reported.
"Sir, team 563 completed their mission. They just neutralized their target."
"Sir, we lost contact with team 1389."
Noah was in the command center, encircled by maps, with radios buzzing with continuous updates, and soldiers hurrying back and forth, bringing in reports.
The atmosphere was tense. Becker got Lucius, but they still had to co out of prison yet.
In the anti, he was doing his best to keep the Blackguards out of their way, but it wasn't easy.
Honestly speaking, despite having prepared a lot for this rescue mission, facing the Blackguards was too hard.
Many teams sent to kill the Blackguards failed, and Noah often had to send people just to prevent the enemy from reaching the prison.
Despite their initial success, Noah suffered significant losses among the small number of troops that Erik had assembled. Although he anticipated encountering strong opposition, Noah also anticipated a more favorable outco.
"Sir, we've lost contact with team 1164."
"Fuck... Contact team 4682. Tell them to assist Team 1165. The target must be neutralized." "Yes, sir."
Noah's eyes scanned the screens and docunts before him.
His hands moved over the maps, marking positions and calculating routes of attack and retreat with precision.
The command center, though organized, was a whirlwind of activity.
"Get a status update on all squads," Noah said. "And prepare to send reinforcents to sector seven. We can't afford any more losses."
"Yes, sir. We lost roughly 150 teams; the remaining are still operating. We killed around 50 targets and wiped out at least 2000 enemy soldiers."
"That is great news, but why are we losing?"
The soldier kept a stoic face; it was one of Erik's clones, after all.
"The primary issue, sir, is the enemy's numbers. Our forces, although on average superior in physical strength and speed, are at a significant disadvantage against those numbers," the soldier said.
"Furthermore, the enemy has powerful mbers on their side, and they are destroying our fortified positions. The Blackguards, sir. Their combat prowess is simply too great."
As the conversation between Noah and the soldier wrapped up, another figure hurried into the command center.
This new soldier, breathless from his rush to deliver news, bore a look of clear agitation on his face.
His uniform was disheveled, and beads of sweat dotted his forehead.
His eyes darted around the room, seeking Noah. His information must have been of critical importance.
"Sir! Sector seven had been wiped out!"
"What? What happened?"
"A Blackguard. The last report talked about a blackguard."
"Shit," Noah thought for a second. He knew what he had to do, but was unwilling.
The only alternative for them now was to send the support squads to Sector 7. The problem was that among them was Amber's team.
However, it was clear that right now, Noah couldn't give her preferential treatnt. Most of the troops were Erik's clones, but there weren't only them. Among the soldiers were mbers of the Nexthorn Vanguard's guild.
"Tell all the supporting squads in the area to take a position on sector 7. If they breach through sector 6, Becker will be trapped."
"But, sir, among them is team 4579." All of Erik's clones weren't keen on putting his friends in danger.
"We can't spare anyone. Floyd's and Amber's powers will be useful. Do as I say."
"Yes, sir."
***
"They are trying to flank us!"
"Benedict! Take care of those two! We must disengage!"
Amber gave her orders. The situation was slowly spiraling out of control.
Every thought of avoiding kills was slipping away. They couldn't afford to leave enemy soldiers alive, because they wouldn't do the sa for them despite their young age.
But they weren't the only young people on the battlefield. All Erik's clones were of the sa age as him; as for the enemy, most of them were older, but there were even young ones among their ranks.
Amber and the others knew what they were going to do, and despite this, they joined.
The situation was too different from when they saved the parents kidnapped by Nathaniel's father, because the scale of things was much greater than before.
Benedict surged forward. His halberd sliced through the air, producing a whistling sound that looked like the scream of a banshee.
Each swing was asured, each step calculated, and each attack deadly.
Benedict was turning into a monster as grim as a graveyard wraith, his movents as silent and deadly as the whispers of the damned.
The enemy soldiers, caught in the whirlwind of his assault, found themselves overwheld.
It wasn't imdiate, but Benedict killed the two soldiers, though.
To Amber, the sight was chilling. She knew Benedict-knew his kind heart and spirited
nature, the way he laughed and joked, the compassion he held for others.
Yet, here, on the battlefield, he transford. The good-natured friend beca a veritable demon whose sole purpose was to kill and rip to shreds.
The group disengaged.
"Shit! That was hard!" Floyd said.
"I thought I was going to die," Gwen said.
The group left the area with hurried steps, putting distance between themselves and the battlefield.
It was then that Amber's radio crackled to life. The voice on the other end was terse, the ssage brief, but the weight of the words hung heavy.
Amber's face paled, the color draining as she listened to the news. The ashen look in her eyes told the others that, whatever the command center said, the news had not been good.
"Understood. We will move," she said.
She turned to face her friends, the resolve in her gaze belying the tremor in her voice.
"We have a new mission," she said, her words cutting through the silence that had settled over the group.
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