Phase 2 began like a slow, deliberate change in the dunes.
The three suns dimmed in unison. The air tasted metallic; the sand hardened into ridges that chewed through wheel tracks and boot prints. On-screen, the banner flickered:
[PHASE 2 — LOGISTICS & SUSTAINMENT]
[Objective A: Secure Water Wells (2)]
[Objective B: Evacuate Stasis Pods (3)]
[Objective C: Maintain Forward Perimeter (Continuous)]
[Available Carry: Rations & Water Limited — Choose Allocation Wisely]
No flashy theatrics this time. The trial removed abundance and asked the teams to manage what was left.
On the field, squads split with purpose. Leaders called quiet, exact orders.
"Alpha takes Well One. Bravo moves to pods two and three. Charlie holds the line and funnels evac to our pick-up."
"Copy. Hold staggered rates on water. Only medics open stasis until pods are clear."
It was supply-chain combat: route security, munition economy, casualty cycles. Nothing glamorous — but everything that makes an actual mission succeed or fail.
From Unity Tower, Tony studied the map. "Okay, so this is the part where people normally panic and either hoard or throw themselves at a problem. But these teams…" He smiled. "They're still organized."
Natasha cut in, "Keep an eye on ethics. Limited resources tempt bad decisions. If the trial incentivizes sacrificing one group to save another, we need to flag it."
Aizen's tone was dry. "It will present dilemmas. That's the point. The question is how teams value lives versus mission objectives."
Down in the Ring Realm, a column of fighters approached Well One under covering fire. Two squads converged on a ridge, synchronized. Marksmen layered overwatch; two engineers moved with jerrycans and a portable pump.
At Pod Two, a small team encountered the trial's moral twist: three stasis pods sealed with safety locks — each pod held a linked objective token required for progression. Unlocking them required time and a finite reagent found in the wells.
Pod Two's leader had a choice: spend the reagent to unlock two pods shallowly (partial revival), or use it fully on one pod (full revival with full token). The trial's UI quietly displayed outcomes and timers — no moralizing, just cold consequences.
He looked to his second-in-command. "If we half-fill two, we get two tokens but those people stagger — unreliable. If we full-fill one, we get one solid token and better manpower. We can still push to Well Two after."
Silence for a second. The squad weighed the calculus — survival odds, mission tempo, resources.
"Full one," the second said finally. "We can't rely on half-measures in the next phase."
They spent the reagent. Pod hatch hissed — one person revived fully, coughing, alert, able to carry gear. Two others blinked awake but incoherent — stabilizers required. The squad secured the coherent evac and left med teams patching the others.
Nearby, a different team took the opposite route. They split reagent to pull two pods shallowly, accepting casualties in exchange for more tokens. Their evac ran into a sudden flanking of metal hounds; without a coherent payload, their manpower faltered and they suffered a tactical setback.
Across the desert, the outcomes multiplied: smart rationing, triage decisions, hard calls. No one executed a gleeful "sacrifice"; they made strategy-based choices — calculated, grim, human.
Dave watched the streams and spoke quietly, audible over the comms. "This is why I stay out of the hero role. People expect miracles. But look—look how they decide. Not by ego. By duty and math."
Natasha nodded. "Heroes can make bad choices in the name of grand gestures. These teams act like units, not individuals chasing glory."
A medic near Well Two patched a wounded leader and handed him a ration. "We hold. We pull them out in rotation. Save the token for when we can use it best."
The trial recorded everything: allocation, delays, evac rates, and cohesion scores. After an hour of tense logistics, markers on the HUD updated.
[Objective A: Secured — Well One (Full), Well Two (Guarded)]
[Objective B: Evacuation — Pods: 3 (1 Full, 2 Partial — Stabilizers En Route)]
[Objective C: Perimeter — 94% Integrity]
The text blinked a final line before moving on:
[PHASE 2 — PASSED]
[Casualties Recorded: Minimal]
[Ethical Decisions: Tactical, Not Sacrificial — Validated]
Tony exhaled, half impressed and half relieved. "They didn't go for the cheap, awful solution. They adapted. That's what you want in people you trust in the field."
Aizen inclined his head. "They treat moral risk as tactical risk. That's rare and effective."
Dave's face was unreadable for a moment, then he let out a low, almost-mocking chuckle. "Still don't want the title of hero," he repeated. "But I'll take the company of professionals who make the right call even when it hurts."
On the desert feed, medics carried the partial revivals toward the secured wells. Engineers set up low-capacity pumps and ration loops. Marksmen rotated carefully. Formation integrity held—tested, refined, and stronger.
Shuri keyed the next-phase overlay up on the screen. "Phase 3 activates in ten minutes. It ramps environmental hazard and psychological stress."
Natasha's fingers tightened around the armrest. "Keep civilians off this feed. I don't want anyone thinking those half-measures are acceptable choices in the real world."
Tony grinned, eager again. "Bring it on. These teams are ready."
Dave watched the desert one last time, calm. "Then let the trial test the edges. We'll see who can keep their heads—and who breaks."
The sands shifted. The next sun pulsed. The Trial waited, cold and attentive, ready to push them further.
Phase 3 arrived like a slow tightening of a vise.
The suns dimmed again, thin heat turning to a biting dryness that scraped throats. Wind picked up, not as gusts but as a steady, sand-laden press that robbed breath and muddled sight. Overlaid on the feed, the trial banner pulsed:
[PHASE 3 — ENVIRONMENTAL HARDSHIP & PSYCHOLOGICAL STRESS]
[Objective: Maintain Perimeter for 60 Minutes — While Under Duress]
[Modifiers: Sandstorms (Intermittent) · Sensory Distortion · False Audio Cues]
No longer just machines and logistics—the Trial began to play with perception. Voices whispered through comms that weren't there, shadows bent where no enemy stood, and every squad had to choose whether to trust instruments or instincts.
On the field, leaders tightened comm discipline. "Silent hand signals only. Eyes on your sector. If you hear voices, mark the bearing and ignore until confirmed." Medics moved near the line, chevrons of water strapped to their vests. Engineers wedged sandbags and jammed extra outlets for LEDs to cut through the visual noise.
*******
if you like my fanfic, and want to support me and read advance chaps, checkout my fanfic on Patreon :-
There are regular updates too.
patreon.com/FantasyLi
***