Hellish Weekend

  Our entire group was called upon to present ourselves to our instructor in order to become a recognized elite squadron, comparable to the SAS or Navy SEALs. Our group's morale is high, and we are confident. We are a coerced group, mostly new and still untested in combat, unlike others who have already gained combat experience during the Continental War. Nevertheless, they have already undergone rigorous training with the Ranges, SFAS, Q Course, SERE School, and OTC. Most of those present were previously recommended for the Delta Force because of their high scores. They haven't said it out loud, but we know they're looking for the best of the best. Everyone is excited to be the first in the next super heroe group.

  Apparently, before the actual training, we were called here to meet with Cedric, the war hero and captain of the legendary Alliance Phoenix Special Operations Squad. This group destroyed the Empire’s nuclear capability when the desperate Empire began preparing to use it and helped bring the war to an end. Seeing someone like him face-to-face undoubtedly emphasizes what is expected of us.

  “Alright, everyone, I know you’re excited about all of this and about being selected and brought to this place.”

  “Believe me when I say that you wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t pushed yourselves to the maximum during your training.”

  “We know that you are already formidable soldiers, among the best.”

  “You have been selected here because we are trying to implement a new combat initiative.”

  “I’m sure you already know this if you’ve seen the news and thought about it a little.”

  “It’s a reality that the remnants of the Empire have the capacity to strike with great force in a place with little or no warning.”

  “The attacks in New York or Okinawa were clear examples.”

  “Of course, the Alliance will not stand idly by while its members fear being the next ones to be attacked unexpectedly on such a scale.”

  “Our idea is to form a rapid response team at key points around the world that can respond to these attacks with a large assault force within a maximum of 8 hours from the first shot.”

  “Part of this strategy is not necessarily to win and crush the Empire remnants immediately.”

  “For now, what we seek is to restore order and defend the city or country under attack while the real assault is being prepared.”

  “Our objective is to arrive as quickly as possible and prevent collapse at the most critical moment while help is on the way.”

  “Right now, all of that is entering the final details.”

  “But even so, we still have things to prepare.”

  “One of them is the key pieces that will be the cornerstone of this new initiative.”

  “The elite squads that will be sent blindly into conflict will carry the weight of destiny in their hands and pave the way for a powerful and effective counteroffensive.”

  “We are looking for elite operators who are adaptable to unpredictable missions, with a high degree of initiative.”

  “You are here today because you have been recommended to join this group.”

  “This will be partly your training as well as the final selection process.”

  “I want to say this, though: in case you are not selected, don’t feel bad about it. It simply means your profiles don’t match exactly what we’re looking for, but it doesn’t close doors for you to join other groups.”

  “.......”

  “Alright, with all that said, I have two important announcements.”

  “The first is that I will not be your instructor. I was asked to help with the selection of candidates and will be here managing everything while the real instructor is unavailable.”

  “So you can see me as second-in-command for now.”

  “Why won’t the main instructor be here very often despite how important this is? Because she has her reasons.”

  “She has her own matters to take care of in her life, but it is undoubtedly a great honor that she takes the time to come and train us from time to time.”

  “That said, point number two.”

  “Our instructor is someone quite peculiar, strange, and by far so.”

  “But don’t underestimate her—the enemy has already lost many times against her for this very reason.”

  “Elise Valkyria is her name. It may sound ridiculous.”

  “But in her record we have: rescuing the President of the United States during the Imperial attack in New York, the kidnapping and takeover of an Empire aircraft carrier, assisting in humanitarian efforts during the Okinawa earthquake.”

  “Detection, protection, transport, and delivery of a SADM during the presidential visit to Tokyo.”

  “And all of this without even mentioning what she accomplished during the continental war against the Empire.”

  “She is someone you clearly have never heard of for a reason.”

  “.......”

  “I’ll tell you now, treat her with respect, no matter how strange she may seem.”

  “Accept her advice and learn as quickly as you can from her.”

  “Follow her instructions to the letter.”

  “She is the one with the pen to cross your names off the final list, not me.”

  “......”

  “Alright, with all that said, please give a warm welcome to Elise Valkyria.”

  We were somewhat prepared for anything to appear, but what we didn’t expect was a young albino girl cosplaying as a fox-eared and tailed character. She was dressed in casual urban clothing, but somewhat revealing, accentuating her already very sexy figure. However, despite the stares, the girl had a serious look; she undoubtedly seemed to dislike us before even starting to speak. But she was someone who got straight to the point, and we realized that immediately.

  “Alright, thank you for the introduction, Cedric.”

  “As he already said, I’m Elise.”

  “I’ve been asked to try to help a group that can complete the mission, and that’s what I hope to do.”

  “Unfortunately for you, I’m being paid to make you suffer and see what comes out of it.”

  “So, welcome to hellish weekend.”

  “They say you can’t see a person’s true self until they’re pushed to the limit, and that’s exactly what I plan to do—to see if you measure up.”

  “Consider that from this moment, we’re already in training.”

  “The context: you’ve just been sent to what is essentially a new attack by the Empire.”

  “........”

  “Alright, first on the list.”

  “Headquarters has located a briefcase with valuable information; it’s in the back storage, in the helicopter hangar.”

  “Enemy forces are en route to take it from you.”

  “Take the paint Simunitions and defend the briefcase until sunrise, when I give the signal.”

  “Too vague? That’s the point— you never know how long a fight can last. Fuck all of you, survive.”

  “You have these three boxes; ammunition is limited—make the most of it.”

  “You can take the night vision goggles, but you only have six batteries to use.”

  “Unlike pinball, enemies won’t stop when hit with paint bullets—they’ll just step back a little and try again.”

  “You, on the other hand, will do 20 push-ups in full gear for every hit.”

  “Good luck.”

  The combat was long and intense during the night. Initially, we thought we would have to stand guard and wait for the attack. Instead, the confrontation was almost immediate, with no moment of respite. I don’t know who Elise hired to play the villains, but we noticed them during the night. They were two tireless, nonstop, nonhuman Empire androids. We were in combat all night until dawn.

  There were quite a few of us, but we couldn’t do much because of the limited number of batteries for the goggles. With their charge, the batteries wouldn’t last long enough. So, we decided to leave only three scopes and take turns using them with the best shooters until the next day. Around 3 a.m., after almost six hours of combat, our ammunition started running low, and we still had at least another three hours ahead of us. We had to make more precise shots and conserve ammo.

  Elise walked around taking notes in a notebook. She checked the ammunition boxes and recorded the orders I gave to my team, as well as the timing of important events. Her face was completely neutral; she didn’t want any emotion to influence her judgment. I felt the pressure of her judging every decision and disappointing her.

  When she finally ordered a stop, we only had 15 bullets left among all of us. She was impressed that we had made it, and it showed in her smile as she counted the remaining ammunition. It seemed we had gone from complete disappointment to, “Okay, at least they didn’t screw it up on the first try.”

  “Well done, team, most of you managed to survive your first night in combat.”

  “The bad news is that Headquarters is an idiot and forgot to mention that there were actually two briefcases.”

  “The villains have managed to capture the other one and are trying to get it out of the country.”

  “Your objective is to go to the US Army Camp Zama and retrieve it.”

  “The problem is that you’re expected to enter combat to recover the briefcase, so remember to bring your military gear.”

  “Camp Zama is on the other side of the city.”

  “Japan right now has no idea that we’re conducting military exercises on their territory.”

  “If the police see you with that, they will undoubtedly arrest you.”

  “So, well, don’t get arrested, I don’t care how you get there.”

  “If you get arrested, we won’t help you get out, you’ll have to face whatever punishment they decide to give you.”

  “I want to see you there before eight, before my breakfast is over,” said the demon in white.

  She left immediately after calmly saying that, but for us, the work continued. Since our objective was to pass through the city without being noticed by the Japanese government, we thought it would be fine to wear civilian clothes, try to use public transportation, and keep all the military equipment hidden. To increase our chances of success, we split into groups and took different modes of transportation. Some of us even took public transit. In the worst-case scenario, not all of us would be arrested, and at least some would make it to the end to continue the mission. The hardest part was trying to act normally and not stand out too much despite being foreigners in homogeneous Japan. On top of that, we were exhausted from being in combat all night, and we were still on edge from the battle.

  This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

  One of the most tense moments occurred when we tried to buy train tickets and the machine wasn’t working. We had to explain to a police officer where we wanted to go so he could help us buy tickets, all without telling him that we were trying to reach a military base. When we arrived, Elise congratulated us on a job well done. We had all succeeded without getting into trouble. She finally let us eat and rest. We didn't think much about it and went to the bunks to sleep.

  But the White Demon had other plans. During the night, while we were sleeping, she threw a flash-bang grenade into the bunks. She started screaming with a megaphone and threw more flash grenades to blind us.

  “Bad luck, everyone! Nobody kept watch, an enemy attack has hit you!”

  “Grab your military gear and run to the firing range. From this moment, you are in combat. I want you to shoot until I give the order to stop!”

  “Maxwell! Isaac!”

  “You’ve screwed up. You’ve been hit by enemy fire. Now you’re a burden to your team.”

  “You need to be dragged to the firing range.”

  “Rodriguez, did you forget you’re the lieutenant? Orders? For today!”

  “Maxwell, Isaac, drag them. If two wounded men slow you down, leave them behind.”

  Elise caught my attention with her actions when I was still unsure of what I wanted. But with her words, I remembered that my comrades were looking to me for an answer I hadn’t found yet. Without overthinking it, I decided to do what she said and go to the shooting range. Several people were angry about the sudden noise of the grenades, but when they saw Elise furiously writing in her notebook, they remembered why they were there and why she did it. They swallowed their words, grabbed their gear, and prepared to continue without complaint.

  We carried the wounded men on stretchers to the shooting range. There, we spent nearly three hours shooting without stopping for ammunition. By the time we finished, our arms trembled from the recoil of the weapons and we were mentally exhausted from the combat practice. Our aim had worsened compared to the day before. But Elise continued writing in her notebook. I have no idea if her writing was good or bad, but her striking appearance and red notebook were more than enough to instill panic about what she might have written about each of us—judging us, noting everything, and recording our mistakes before we even realized we were making them.

  "All right, guys. This time, we're going to try to take it easy.

  You have all been airlifted back home.

  The bad news is that it was damaged and fell into the forest behind Allied lines.”

  The good news is that there’s an allied base 36 kilometers away where you can take refuge.

  "I want you to walk along the athletic track in full gear, including ammunition, for 36 kilometers."

  "Oh, right. Lewis and Joe, you got lucky in the Christmas lottery, so you get to slack off this afternoon."

  "You broke your legs when you fell."

  “And the rest of you? Congratulations on earning a service medal for your efforts in transporting your wounded comrades 36 kilometers.”

  We all stared at her, stunned by what she said. But when the two stretchers appeared at her side, we realized she wasn’t joking. It was then that the cracks broke open, revealing what she was searching for. Surprisingly, we found the other side of the White Demon there.

  The long march began. We took it as a direct mission with no room for doubt or interpretation. In my mind—and in everyone else’s—the only option was to move forward without stopping, as if time were an invisible enemy breathing down our necks. As a lieutenant, I felt the weight of every gaze waiting for me to give the signal. The only thing I could do was repeat what she had said: "Thirty-six kilometers, full gear." Elise’s silence, her red notebook, and her impassive expression made us believe that any pause would mean immediate failure.

  After the 20-kilometer mark, Montes collapsed from the extreme fatigue of three full days, as if he had been shot—he just fell. Worried about what had happened, Elise was the first to reach him and tend to him, checking that everything was alright. Then she looked at the rest of the group and noticed that we weren’t far from collapsing in the same way.

  “Ahh, okay, that’s fine.”

  “This is as far as we go this weekend; you can stop now.”

  “......”

  “Damn it, I wanted to see you at your limit; I didn’t think you’d be this stupid.”

  “I told you, you’re not in enemy territory—just far from the base.”

  “There was no time limit to cover the 36 kilometers, geniuses.”

  “Please realize that your fatigue is also a real factor.”

  “I’m not looking for a robot with infinite energy.”

  “I want men of action, initiative, who even if they don’t know the answer, try to find it on their own.”

  “I want you to plan properly according to your resources, including your energy.”

  “Rest exists in the army for a reason, idiots.”

  “I’m not going to bother you anymore; this time really go rest.”

  “I’ll give you the report tomorrow.”

  The following morning arrived with an unnatural calm. The pain in every muscle was a constant reminder of the past seventy-two hours, a monument to suffering erected by the albino demon. We gathered in the briefing room, a group of exhausted yet strangely alert men, as if our bodies, already accustomed to surprise, refused to let their guard down even in the apparent safety of the barracks.

  Captain Cedric was already there, standing before us with a dossier in hand. His expression was serious, professional, but lacked the unpredictable intensity we had learned to fear—and somehow respect.

  “Good morning, gentlemen,” he began, his voice resonating in the silent room.

  “Elise left last night. Her work here, for now, is done. She left me her evaluations.” He lifted the folder slightly.

  An absolute silence fell. You could cut the tension with a knife. We all stared at that red notebook, transformed into a formal document—the instrument of our final judgment.Cedric opened the dossier, his eyes scanning the first page before he spoke.

  “Her evaluation is… straightforward. As expected.” He paused, searching for the right words.

  “I’m going to read what appears in the executive summary, addressed to high command.”

  He adjusted the paper and began to read in a neutral voice, brutally contrasting with the content.

  “Alpha Group, Lieutenant Ramirez in command. Suitability assessment for the Rapid Response Program.”

  “Conclusions: An interesting group. They are not the best I’ve seen, by far, but they could work. They demonstrated commendable rationality in managing limited resources during the first exercise. A cohesive group that supports each other under pressure, which is an invaluable asset.”

  A collective sigh, almost of relief, swept through the room. Some shoulders relaxed.

  Cedric continued, his tone becoming a degree colder.

  “They exhibit a high degree of lateral thinking, as evidenced by their solution to move across the city covertly. However…”

  There it was. The word that changed everything.

  “…they are weakened by dangerous stubbornness. A blind hunger for combat and victory, which eclipses the primary instinct to stay alive. They seek my approval through blind obedience, not adaptive intelligence. That will make them predictable—and dead. In the field, that obsession will turn them into a slaughter. I don’t seek heroes who win spectacular battles and die in the process. I seek natural survivors. men who prioritize returning to fight another day.”

  The words hit us with the force of a concussion grenade. We looked at each other, recognizing the raw truth in that assessment. The thirty-six-kilometer march had been the perfect test. We had been willing to kill ourselves to complete an order, without question.

  Cedric lowered the dossier and looked at us directly.

  “The verdict is this: You’ve passed the initial selection. Barely. You’ve shown raw potential.” He paused dramatically, letting the brief relief settle before delivering the final blow.

  “But you need to improve. Radically. And fast.”

  “Because if you don’t,” he said, his voice losing all trace of neutrality, charged with the weight of absolute truth,

  “if you go to the field with this mindset, I won’t be writing evaluation reports. I’ll be writing condolence letters to your families. There will be many—and at this point, that tires me a lot.”

  Cedric lifted his gaze from the notebook and looked at us one by one.

  “This is not a rejection. It is a diagnosis. According to the Commander, you are an interesting group. Not the best she’s seen, but with a foundation that could work.”

  He paused, letting his words sink in.

  “You’ve passed the initial selection. You are the squad. But,” he added, his tone turning grave,

  “read between the lines. What she’s saying here is that if you don’t improve, if you don’t internalize this lesson and leave that stubbornness behind… you will all die on the first real mission.

  "They don’t seek heroes. They seek natural survivors. And you are not yet that.”

  He closed the notebook. There was no further discussion, no motivational speeches. Only the cold, hard truth left by a woman as peculiar as she was brilliant.

  “Rest today. Tomorrow we start again.”

  “Now, we work to impress Elise on her next visit.”

  “That’s all. Dismissed.”

  We left. The training mission was over. The real test, we now knew, was only beginning. And survival depended not on remembering Elise’s orders, but the lesson she screamed at us on the brink of collapse: think, adapt, and endure.