The sterile hum of the hospital room wrapped around John as he sat on the edge of his bed, his hand subconsciously gripping the cool metal frame. His body ached—a deep, bone-level exhaustion that even rest couldn’t fully erase. He was still healing from the deep wounds all over his body. The good news was now his left hand started to respond to him rather than just pure pain.

He stared at the muted television screen across the room, its scrolling updates a reminder of the devastation at Blackcrest. "Evacuation complete," one headline read. Another: "Military casualties remain classified."

Just setting there with nothing to do but resting board him out of his mind. He couldn’t let his family see him in this condition—with bandages all over his body, just a little more and he would look like a mummy. So he could only voice call or text.

A knock at the door broke through his thoughts. John turned his head to see a nurse stepping inside, her expression carefully neutral but tinged with concern. "Agent John, I wanted to check in on your recovery. How are you feeling today?"

"I’m still alive," John replied, his voice hoarse but steady.

After doing her usual checkup, she looked hesitant as she gazed at him. “What is it?” John frowned, asking. "Will I die or something?”

“No… No. It's just news I know about what you asked. I mean about Zak and his team.” She took a deep breath before continuing. “Zak’s team returned from the dungeon late last night. They... they didn’t come back unscathed.”

John’s heart skipped a beat and his chest tightened, clenching the edge of the bed tightly. “How bad?”

She exhaled softly. “Zak and were in critical condition while Toby lost an arm on top of his serious injuries.” She stopped for a few seconds and then continued.” Joe… Unfortunately, didn’t make it.”

For a moment, John couldn’t speak. He led them to the dungeon entrance before leaving. He knew—no, he felt only four was a suicide mission for an elite dungeon. He had hoped his feeling was wrong, but something happened in the end.

The nurse left after delivering the news, leaving John to his thoughts. His fingers loosened their grip on the edge of the bed, but his mind refused to settle. He needed to see them. Toby, Maxwell... even Zak, if he could. He wanted to know what had happened in detail, to piece together the events that had left them in such a state.

Pushing himself up, John winced as sharp pain flared in his side. His body protested every movement, but he ignored it. He had to keep moving. One step at a time. The hallway outside his room was quiet—a stark contrast to the chaos he imagined the medical wing had seen during the aftermath of Blackcrest.

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He approached the reception at the end of the hallway. “Miss, could you tell me where Toby Lyons and Maxwell Ballard’s room is?”

The nurse at the reception was taken aback, seeing him walking while so injured. "Please, sir, you need to rest more with your injuries."

“Don’t mind me for now. Just tell me their room number." He took a deep breath before explaining. "They’re my friends. I just want to know how they’re doing.”

“Mhm… Ok, let me check the log first.” The nurse hesitated for a second before answering. “I’m afraid you can’t visit them. They’re still in a coma and in intensive care, as their injuries were severe when they got here.”

John let out a sigh. “Thanks. Could you please send someone to inform me when they wake up?”

“Sure.”

“Thank you.” John walked back to his room, feeling butterflies in his stomach. Trying to distract himself, he switched between watching television and videos on his phone. The day passed in a flash, and he woke up in bed, still sore the next day.

Reaching for his comm, John called Evelyn.

Beep! Beep!

Click!

After two rings, Evelyn's voice came through the speaker. “What’s up, John? Why did you call?”

“Good morning to you too.” John scratched his head. “When will my weapon be ready?”

“Seriously, John!” Evelyn rolled her eyes. “It’s only been a couple of days. How long has it been since we last talked?”

“Two days,” John admitted, looking embarrassed.

“Exactly, two days. Just be patient. We're still perfecting the details before starting production. It takes time.”

“Oh, okay… I guess I'm just a little eager.”

“Anything else?”

"No, not really—oh yes. There is something.” John's expression turned serious. “Do you know what happened to Team Zak inside the elite dungeon?”

“Let me check…” She clicked a few times on her comm before replying, "No, nothing. The only record comes from the agent in the planning department who was waiting near the dungeon for their exit.”

“Can you tell me what he recorded?” John’s heart tightened as he waited.

“Yes. Here what did he say... He was alerted to a fluctuation to the dungeon’s gate before Zak stumbled out, his face pale and bloodied, carrying Joe’s remains along with Toby and Maxwell on a platform of raised earth. His every step looked like it took all the strength he had left. As soon as he placed all of them on the ground, he also collapsed beside them.”

John took a deep breath, steadying himself after hearing the news.

“I know Maxwell and Toby are your friends. Don’t worry; they’ll be okay,” Evelyn said, her voice soft as she noticed his momentary pause.

John shook his head lightly. “There’s no need to apologize. Thank you for the information, Evelyn.” He paused briefly before adding, “I’ll let you get back to work. Bye.”

“Bye, John,” she replied, her voice carrying a faint note of understanding as the line disconnected.

Looking at the black screen, John wasn’t sure if the new information eased his mind or made his anxiety worse. Shaking off the uneasy thoughts, he opened the Xami app, scrolling to find the martial arts video he had stumbled upon yesterday.

Before discovering his talent, John had occasionally watched these kinds of videos but dismissed them as unattainable—an art for people unlike his chubby, untrained self of the past. But now, things felt different. As he watched the fluid, precise movements on screen, something clicked. The strikes, the techniques—they sparked an idea in him. Each video he played added new possibilities, painting a picture of how these techniques might complement his talent, adapting to the ever-changing situations he faced.