Chapter 10: The Outcast Squad Takes It All

Across the entire Sector 4 hunting zone, automated wrist comms buzzed and chime-flooded with urgent, frantic notifications.

[WARNING: SQUAD 'OUTCAST' HAS SLAIN 2 x B-RANK IRONHIDE BEARS.] [POINTS EARNED: 1,000.] [CURRENT RANKING: 1ST PLACE – SQUAD 'OUTCAST' (1,800 PTS)] [2ND PLACE: SQUAD 'APEX VANGUARD' (200 PTS)]

Three miles away on the scenic upper ridge, Travis stared down at his holographic interface, his face turning a terrifying shade of bruised plum.

“How?!” Travis screamed, slamming his fist against a trunk so hard the tree shook. “She’s an F-rank Guide! She has a rusted iron fence post and a glorified nerd! How the hell are they killing B-ranks in under ten minutes?!”

Lionel swallowed hard, nervously backing away from his captain’s exploding aura. “Uh… Lord Travis… the telemetry shows they’re moving toward the Black Ravine. That’s where the territorial alpha lives. The A-rank Dreadclaw Ursan.”

Travis’s dark eyes flashed with desperate, hysterical fury. “Assemble the squad! We’re heading to the ravine right now! I am not losing first place to a woman who uses cutlery as a primary weapon!”

Meanwhile, at the bottom of the shadowy, bone-strewn Black Ravine, Phoenix was sitting comfortably on a mossy stone, happily munching on an apple she’d yanked off an wild orchard tree.

At her feet lay a massive, twelve-foot-tall Dreadclaw Ursan. The nightmare beast—capable of wiping out an entire platoon of heavily armored Sentinels—was currently pinned flat on its back, hog-tied with high-voltage copper cabling, with a giant, glowing blue shock-pylon jammed directly up its rear end.

Toby stood near the control rig, sweating profusely, holding two copper leads with insulated tongs.

“Phoenix…” Toby whimpered, his voice cracking with sheer, unadulterated terror. “Is… is the shock-pylon in the back really necessary for the tactical kill?”

“Toby, my brilliant little engineer,” Phoenix said, taking a crisp bite of her apple and pointing her iron spear at the twitching monster, “when dealing with an A-rank beast with twelve inches of armored hide, you don’t waste energy trying to pierce its skull. You target the path of least resistance. Nature provided an entry port, and we utilized it. It’s called anatomical optimization.”

The Dreadclaw Ursan let out a muffled, embarrassed whimper, its giant bear eyes wide with absolute, soul-crushing humiliation.

BZZZZZZZZT!

[NOTIFICATION: SQUAD 'OUTCAST' HAS SUBDUED A-RANK DREADCLAW URSAN.] [POINTS EARNED: 2,500.] [TOTAL SCORE: 4,300 PTS – RANK 1 (UNASSALABLE)]

Just as the automated prompt cleared, the heavy bushes at the edge of the ravine exploded outward. Travis, Lionel, and three Class A Sentinels burst into the clearing, weapons drawn, armor gleaming, ready for a grand, cinematic battle.

Instead, they skidded to a dead halt in the mud, staring in utter, horrifying silence at the scene before them:

A legendary A-rank boss beast, completely immobilized and violated by a high-voltage battery grid, with Phoenix casually lounging on its belly like it was a velvet beanbag chair.

“What…” Travis choked out, his voice squeaking so high it sounded like a dying mouse. “What in God’s name did you do to that monster?!”

Phoenix didn't even bother standing up. She leaned back, resting her elbow on the monster’s plush fur, and gave Travis a slow, patronizing once-over.

“Oh, look! The fashion show finally arrived,” Phoenix purred, tossing her apple core directly at Lionel’s polished boot. “You guys are just in time! We were just finishing up the harvest. Though, honestly, Travis, your tactical speed is embarrassing. I’ve seen three-legged zombies move faster than your squad.”

“You… you cheated!” Lionel shrieked, pointing a trembling finger at Toby’s electrical rig. “That isn’t standard Guide support protocol! You’re using illegal engineering!”

“Illegal?” Phoenix scoffed, popping her knuckles with a series of sharp cracks. “Show me the rulebook that says I can’t jam a high-voltage wire where the sun don’t shine, extra. It’s fast, it’s effective, and best of all, it saved me thirty minutes of dodging claw swipes.”

Travis stepped forward, his face flushed a deep, furious crimson, his S-class psychic pressure flaring wildly around him. “Phoenix! This has gone far enough! You’re humiliating the academy, you’re humiliating the Sentinel division, and you’re humiliating me!”

Phoenix let out a sharp, bark-like laugh that echoed off the ravine walls. She slid down from the giant beast, landing on her boots with silent, cat-like grace.

She walked straight up to Travis, stopping barely six inches from his nose. Her dark brown eyes locked onto his with a cold, predatory intensity that made his breath hitch in his throat.

“Humiliating you?” Phoenix whispered, her voice dropping into a dangerous, razor-sharp purr. “Travis, sweetheart, you humiliated yourself the moment you thought an F-rank label meant I was weak. I broke your lap record, I took your first-place prize, and if you step one inch closer into my personal space…”

She reached down, lazily tapping the heavy iron fence post against the front plate of his expensive armor, right over his groin.

“…I’ll introduce you to the exact same anatomical optimization technique I used on the bear.”

Travis’s eyes went wider than saucers. His entire body went rigid, his knees visibly shaking as he instinctively took three massive steps backward, his hands flying down to cover himself in pure, unadulterated panic.

Lionel gagged in horror. The other Class A Sentinels silently took two steps back, completely abandoning their captain.

“That’s what I thought,” Phoenix smirked, spinning her iron spear like a baton and slinging it back over her shoulder. “Toby! Pack up the power grid! We’ve got an Imperial Vault to loot, and I hear they have high-grade mana cores with our names on them.”

“R-right away, Boss!” Toby squeaked, hastily tearing down the wires while trying very hard not to look at the traumatized Dreadclaw Ursan.

As Phoenix strutted past the frozen, terrified squad of Class A elites, she didn't even glance back.

The dregs and outcasts were coming for the crown, and the Imperial Academy was never going to be the same again.