[Place Holder 3]
Eight months of training, expeditions, and fights had brought me here.
Around me, more than 200 Second Phasers were spread out, their eyes sharp, hands gripping weapons that gleamed under the harsh lights.
I adjusted the spear on my shoulder—the one that had taken months of testing to endure my strength without bending. The weight felt familiar, comforting, like it was made for me and me alone.
"Check your gear!" someone barked. The Mayor's men had outfitted us with the best armor, the strongest rifles, and explosives designed for this exact mission. Nothing cheap. Nothing half-assed.
I scanned the line of Second Phasers. Faces hardened, some pale, others scarred from previous runs. They weren't rookies—they had survived hell and come back to fight again. A spark of pride hit me. This wasn't just my fight anymore; it was ours.
