“She’s in critical condition,” Captain Sullivan said, his hands moving quickly over Harper’s wounds. “The Ossarian did a number on her. She’s alive, but barely.”

He tightened the bandage without looking up.

“Don’t mistake that for safe. If she doesn’t reach proper medical care soon, she’s as good as dead.”

Alexander’s face tightened.

“Then we need to return to base as soon as possible.”

Silence followed.

Not agreement.

Not rejection.

Just silence.

I slowly turned toward Captain Sullivan.

‘No way, is he seriously contemplating this.’ I thought

Captain Sullivan looked toward the map strapped to his side, then toward the direction of the river.

“There is a branch outpost near here,” he said. “We can drop her there. It will be faster than returning all the way to Beacon. After that, we continue the mission.”

My grip tightened around my rifle.

Anger rose in my chest so violently that I almost spoke without thinking. Harper was barely alive. Hannah was dead. We had just survived an ambush that should never have happened on an F-rank mission, and he was still talking about the tanker. Still talking about the mission.

Part of me wanted to grab him by the collar and ask him if he was human.

But I kept my mouth shut.

Because deep down, I understood the logic.

And I hated myself for understanding it.

However Alexander could not hold back.

“You can’t be serious,” he snapped. “She’s dying, Captain. We need to take her back. Now.”

Sullivan’s eyes hardened.

“Control your tone Cadet.”

“Control my tone?” Alexander’s voice cracked with disbelief. “Hannah is dead. Harper might die too, and you want us to keep going?”

Aaron looked away.

Captain Sullivan stood slowly, blood staining his gloves.

“The mission comes first.”

Alexander stared at him as if he had just heard something unthinkable.

Sullivan continued, his voice cold: “Every mission serves the collective. The moment you step into the field, you stop thinking as an individual and start thinking about what keeps Beacon alive. Losses will happen. Comrades will fall. But the mission does not stop.”

He looked at each of us.

“Remember that moving forward.”

I said nothing, but deep down, I could never agree with him.

Survival came first. Always.

If someone expected me to die for some nameless cadet, a supply run, or whatever mission they decided was important, then they were mistaken. I had not joined Beacon to become a sacrifice for the greater good.

I joined because I wanted to live.

Alexander’s hands shook at his sides.

“So we just leave her at some branch and move on?” Alexander asked “How can we be sure she’ll even survive?”

“We can’t be sure,” Sullivan said sharply. “Not even if we drag her all the way back to Beacon. Her condition is critical either way.”

Alexander’s jaw clenched, but Sullivan continued before he could argue.

“The outpost near here has basic medical facilities. They can do far more for her than we can out here on the road. We leave her there so they can stabilize her then we keep moving and finish the mission. We fill the tanker and on the way back we pick her up and head to Beacon together.”

His voice remained cold, but his words were not careless.

“That gives her the best chance of survival without sacrificing the mission.”

His gaze moved across all of us.

“Discipline is not doing what feels right when emotions are high. Discipline is completing the mission despite the cost.”

***

Inside the clinic, Lieutenant Maren watched the team work in silence.

Lucas and Samuel moved through the storage cabinets, checking each shelf before placing anything useful into their packs. Elena knelt near a lower drawer, sorting through sealed bandages, disinfectants, and old surgical tools.

Near the entrance, Victoria and Rina remained on guard, both watching the street outside. Rina kept glancing back every now and then, while Victoria stood still, rifle held in a calm and steady grip.

Then Maren’s radio beeped.

“This is Team B. Go ahead.”

Captain Sullivan’s voice came through the static and rough.

“Team A was ambushed. Multiple Ossarians. Situation contained.”

Maren’s expression tightened while she lowered the radio’s volume.

“Casualties?”

A short silence followed.

“One cadet dead. One critically injured.”

Maren’s eyes shifted toward the entrance for a moment, then back to the radio.

“Names?”

“Cadet Hannah Lewis is confirmed dead. Cadet Harper Robinson is in critical condition. We’re moving Robinson to the nearest medical facility for emergency treatment, then proceeding with the mission.”

“Understood.”

“Copy that.”

The radio went silent.

For a moment, no one spoke.

Lucas had stopped moving, one hand still resting on the cabinet door. 

“What happened?” he asked quietly while his eyes drifted toward Victoria and Rina near the entrance.

Maren looked at him. She seemed to consider keeping it to herself, but only for a second. News like this would not stay hidden for long.

“A cadet named Hannah Lewis died during Team A’s mission,” she said. “Harper Robinson is critically injured and being transferred to a medical facility near their route.”

“The mission isn’t being stopped?” Lucas said.

Maren stared at him with open contempt.

“Why would it be stopped? Three cadets and a captain are more than enough to complete an F-rank mission.”

Lucas looked away. “I guess.”

The team returned to work.

The news spread through Team B quickly.

At first, it was only a quiet exchange between Lucas, Samuel, and Elena. Then it moved across the clinic until it finally reached the entrance where Victoria and Rina were standing guard.

Rina turned around, her face paling.

“Oh my God,” she whispered. “What could have happened?”

Victoria remained silent for a moment, her eyes still fixed on the street outside.

Then she said, “Only one was killed?”

Rina stared at her, stunned. “Victoria… that’s not a nice thing to say.”

Victoria finally turned her head slightly, her expression unreadable.

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

***

In Beacon, burial was handled according to the wishes of the dead. With survivors coming from different countries, cultures, and religions, no single method was forced on everyone. Some requested burial under the soil. Some requested cremation. Some wanted prayers from their own faith, while others left no instructions at all.

If no choice had been recorded, the dead were buried beneath the earth, with their commander offering the final words.

We chose a spot at the side of the road, far enough from the tanker’s path that no vehicle would disturb it, but close enough that we would not waste too much time. The soil was hard, dry, and stubborn. Each strike of the shovel felt heavier than the last.

Aaron and Alexander dug in silence.

I helped too, though my hands felt numb around the handle.

A short distance away, Captain Sullivan stood beside the tanker driver. The man was still shaken, crouched near the vehicle with his hands trembling against his knees. Sullivan spoke to him quietly, trying to steady him, but his eyes never stopped moving. Even while calming the driver down, he kept watch over the road, the ruins, and us.

For a while, none of us spoke.

Only the sound of metal cutting into dirt filled the air.

Then Alexander broke the silence.

“She was alive minutes ago,” he said, his voice low.

Aaron stopped digging for half a second, then drove the shovel into the soil again.

“Don’t,” he muttered.

Alexander looked at him. “Don’t what?”

“Don’t start talking like that.”

“She died in front of us,” Alexander snapped, his voice cracking. “You want me to pretend she didn’t?”

Aaron’s jaw tightened. “I’m saying talking about it won’t change anything.”

For a moment, I thought he would lash out.

Instead, he looked down at the grave and said nothing.

I kept digging, my throat burning again.

Then came the part none of us wanted to face.

Putting her in the grave.

For several seconds, no one moved. We all stood around Hannah’s body in silence, staring at her as if waiting for someone else to take the first step. Five seconds passed. Maybe more.

In the end, I moved.

I stepped forward and lifted her body onto my shoulders. She felt lighter than she should have, and that somehow made it worse. I knew why I was doing it. It was guilt. 

Deep down, I knew that if one of us had taken a greater risk, if I had taken a greater risk, she might still be standing with us.

Alexander stepped toward me.

“Let me help you.”

“No,” I said, my voice rough. “I’m responsible for this.”

He froze, but I did not look at him.

I carried Hannah to the grave and lowered her down as carefully as I could. Her face was still frozen in that final look of terror, so I reached down with trembling fingers and closed her eyes.

It was the least I could do.

And somehow, it still felt like nothing.

We started covering her body with soil.

No one spoke while we worked.

Afterward, Aaron and Alexander dragged over a large, flat rock from the side of the road. It was rough and uneven, but it was the best thing we could find. Using a knife, we carved her name into it as deeply as we could.

Hannah Lewis

The letters were crooked, but they were there.

I stared at the stone for a moment, then lowered my head.

I prayed for her.

I did not know if prayers meant anything in this world. I did not even know if there was a god watching over a place this cruel. If there is a god in this forsaken world, then let her next life be kinder than this one.