The sky darkened further as alien dropships roared overhead, casting ominous shadows over the war-torn cityscape. Fires crackled in the distance, and explosions lit the horizon with flashes of orange and red. Selene raised her shield just in time to deflect another barrage of plasma fire, the force sending her stumbling back. She gritted her teeth, sweat mingling with blood on her brow. Her breathing was ragged. There was no time to rest. No room for weakness.
"Ronald!" she called out, her voice hoarse. "We need to fall back—now!"
Ronald spun to her, nodding grimly. "We hold for sixty seconds, no more. Get the wounded and pull the line!"
Students scrambled across the cracked pavement, dragging their injured classmates toward cover. Some had burns, others deep gashes. One limped along, supported by two others who refused to leave him behind. The determination in their eyes burned just as brightly as the fires around them.
From the back lines, a new surge of alien troops emerged—sleeker, more agile, more lethal. They moved in coordinated packs, flanking from both sides. The battlefield was closing in fast.
Suddenly, a deafening screech tore through the air. Everyone paused for a fraction of a second. A colossal alien warbeast emerged, stomping down what remained of a collapsed building. Its eyes glowed like molten steel, its hide covered in jagged armor plates. Its roar made the ground quake.
Selene's heart dropped.
"This is it," she muttered. "They're sending in their final wave."
Ronald cursed under his breath, rallying the remaining pro warriors. "Form a perimeter! Do not let it reach the students!"
As the collapsing building threatened to bury the students, they began to run, panic spreading through the group. Just in time, the elite warriors arrived, firing their gun blasters to create a path and hold back the debris. But after a powerful blast, a massive wall split in two—one half crashing harmlessly to the side, while the other half came hurtling toward Zane. He couldn't move in time. It slammed into him, pinning him beneath its crushing weight.
Zane gasped for air, the pressure unbearable. He tried to move, but the debris was too heavy. His vision blurred, and his heartbeat slowed as he struggled to stay conscious. He was on the edge of losing everything.
Back at the academy, the live feed continued to broadcast the chaos unfolding in Mandaue. The image on screen shook violently as the building collapsed.
In the viewing room, Shane, Akashi, and Akuma stood frozen. Their faces were pale with shock, eyes wide, unable to look away.
"No..." Shane whispered, his voice cracking.
Akashi clenched his fists, his breathing sharp and unsteady. "That was Zane—he was right under it!"
Beside them, their teacher from PNHS, who had trained them since day one, staggered back a step, his mouth slightly open. He had always been composed, calm under pressure—but now, tears welled in his eyes as he watched one of his own being crushed under the debris.
On the battlefield, the elite warrior who had fired the blaster that split the wall in two stood frozen. His gun dropped to the ground with a metallic clatter. "No… no, no, no!" he muttered, falling to his knees. "That was my shot… I—I did this…" He buried his face in his hands, overcome with guilt. "Zane... I'm sorry."
Nearby, Mayari, Alyas, Akira, and Benedicto all turned as they heard the rumble and saw the dust rise. Their eyes locked on the scene, and horror washed over them.
"Zane!" Mayari screamed.
Alyas shook his head, backing away in disbelief. "This can't be happening."
"He's gone..." someone whispered.
Shane turned away, covering his face. Akuma clenched his jaw, trying to hold in the scream that burned in his throat. Akashi sat down, defeated, eyes hollow. Benedicto fell silent, the strength seeming to drain from his frame as the sounds of battle felt suddenly distant… like echoes fading into hopelessness.
The elite warriors, usually unshakable, now stood with heads bowed.
"This is it, isn't it?" Alyas said bitterly, his voice hoarse. "We can't win. We're not strong enough."
Akira didn't respond. She couldn't. Her voice was gone, stolen by the weight of guilt and grief.
The sky above them, once bright with fire and flashes of resistance, now seemed darker… heavier.
Even the alien forces could sense the shift. They advanced slowly now, sensing fear, smelling defeat.
It felt like the end.
Mr. Shawn, the teacher from PNHS—once the leader of the elite warriors and a veteran of the old pro team—stepped forward from the shadows of the command center. His coat swayed as he walked toward the group, every step heavy with sorrow but grounded in unshakable purpose.
He looked at each of them—his students, his warriors, his legacy.
"I trained Zane," he began, his voice low but steady. "I watched him grow from a quiet, uncertain boy into someone who stood on the front lines without hesitation."
The students looked up, their eyes filled with tears.
"We all saw it. He never ran. Even when the fear should have overwhelmed him… he stood."
The silence thickened. A few sniffled. Akashi bowed his head, and Akuma bit his lip to keep from breaking.
Mr. Shawn's voice grew louder.
"Zane died fighting not because he was reckless—but because he believed in something greater than himself. He believed in protecting all of you. In protecting this city. In protecting the future."
He turned toward the battlefield feed, the rubble still smoking.
"I know you're scared. I know you're hurting. So am I."
He paused, letting the weight of that truth sink in.
"But this? This moment right now—this is where we decide what kind of warriors we really are. Do we let Zane's sacrifice be in vain? Or do we carry his spirit with us, into every battle, every strike, every breath we take from here on?"
He pointed toward the screen. "Zane gave everything. Not for us to give up—but for us to rise."
The elite warriors who had once been frozen in shock straightened their backs. Students clenched their fists with renewed resolve.
"You want to honor him?" Mr. Shawn continued. "Then fight. Fight harder than you ever have. Not out of revenge, but out of love—for him, for each other, for the city he believed in."
The winds howled outside, and the sounds of battle resumed. But something had changed.
The fire was back in their eyes.
"Let's finish what he started," Mr. Shawn said, drawing his own weapon—an old, battle-worn sword with glowing runes. "For Zane."
Shouts of agreement rose around him.
"For Zane!"
The warriors and students surged forward, weapons drawn, hearts burning.
And somewhere beneath the rubble, far below where anyone could hear… a faint pulse still beat.
It wasn't just a shout—it was a vow, a rising flame that lit every soul left on the battlefield.
Above them, drones from the academy zoomed overhead, transmitting tactical data. Explosions still echoed in the distance. Alien shrieks cut through the smoke.
Then Mr. Shawn raised his sword, its glowing runes pulsing like a heartbeat.
"This is our line," he declared. "We hold it. We push it. And we make sure Zane didn't fall for nothing!"
The elite warriors formed ranks beside him, weapons humming with power. Some were bruised, bleeding—but they stood tall. Pro warriors fell in behind them. The students, once scattered and shaken, now stood shoulder to shoulder.
A final moment of stillness.
Then, from beyond the dust, the next alien wave emerged—larger than before. More armored. More relentless.
But the defenders didn't flinch.
Mr. Shawn's sword pointed forward. "GO!"
The ground thundered beneath their charge.
Blasters roared. Swords clashed. Cries of defiance rose into the sky.
"For Zane!" they shouted again, louder, stronger.
And though none of them knew it yet… beneath the wreckage, where light could not reach, Zane's fingers twitched.
His heart still beat.