Yellow sand blotted out the sky, stretching over a sea of corpses and shattered ruins.
The battlefield was an inferno, testing the students to their physical and mental limits. But they couldn't retreat. It was as if a wall stood behind them, forcing them to grit their teeth and push forward.
Fortunately, the instructors had turned the simulation's gore settings to their lowest. There were no live firearms, no gushing blood—only raw, primitive combat, sparing the students from excessive psychological trauma.
A good number of students had already "died" in battle, but the enemies ahead continued to press their attack.
Each wave was fiercer than the last, each batch of foes more formidable.
Eve Lowell glanced at the figure in the distance, her lips tightening. She raised her staff and charged, intercepting every enemy Aurora Sinclair prepared to fight.
