Chapter 119: You passed

They had just completed a grueling trial, a test of their skills and endurance against a horde of zombies and mutants. They had proven themselves worthy of being Lunaria's defenders, using only medieval weapons against a relentless enemy. They had shown that they were not just mercenaries, but heroes.

The lieutenants, appearing on the scene with remarkable speed, rushed to the aid of the mercenaries who were still engaged with the remnants of the horde. With uncanny prowess, the lieutenants dispatched the zombies, their movements almost dance-like in their precision.

The mercenaries couldn't believe their eyes. The lieutenants' power seemed inhuman, their every strike a testament to a level of skill and strength that defied explanation. They effortlessly handled the mutants, rendering them powerless against the overwhelming force of the elite lieutenants.

The lieutenants, a mere ten in number, fought with an otherworldly grace, moving through the battlefield as if they were part of a well-coordinated performance. Their weapons slashed through the air with lethal efficiency, eliminating zombies with ease. The mutants, once formidable adversaries, fell before the lieutenants' onslaught, their movements synchronized and flawless.

The mercenaries, now standing alongside the lieutenants, watched in awe and disbelief. It was a display of power and skill that transcended the realm of the ordinary. The lieutenants fought as if they were a force of nature, a stark contrast to the struggle the mercenaries had faced moments ago.

As the last remnants of the horde crumbled under the relentless assault, the lieutenants regrouped with the captain. The battlefield, once a chaotic battleground, now bore witness to a surreal scene of victory.

The captain, still smiling, addressed the stunned mercenaries. "You have proven yourselves. You all passed."

The lieutenants, their inhuman prowess momentarily concealed behind stoic expressions, nodded in acknowledgment. The mercenaries, now officially recognized as defenders of Lunaria, stood amidst the aftermath of the battle, their eyes filled with a mix of awe and gratitude for the lieutenants who had turned the tide in their favor.

The mercenaries, their faces etched with disbelief, exchanged glances amidst the aftermath of the battle. The realization sank in—this was all a test, a trial that had cost them dearly, claiming the lives of their friends. Though the lieutenants' inhuman prowess had turned the tide, the heavy toll on their comrades weighed heavily on the hearts of the surviving mercenaries.

Questions lingered in their minds, unspoken but palpable. Was their sacrifice worth the approval of the lieutenants? Did the lives lost serve a greater purpose in the eyes of Lunaria's defenders? The battlefield, now silent except for the echoes of the recent struggle, bore witness to the internal turmoil of the surviving mercenaries.

The captain, sensing the mix of emotions among the mercenaries, addressed them with a tone that carried both understanding and authority. "You have faced a trial unlike any other. Your courage, determination, and adaptability were put to the ultimate test. It was never our intention to see harm come to any of you."

The lieutenants, their expressions softening slightly, stood as silent witnesses to the captain's words. The aftermath of the battle painted a sobering picture—a field littered with remnants of the struggle, a stark reminder of the cost of the test.

As the mercenaries absorbed the captain's words, a mix of emotions played on their faces—grief, anger, and a lingering sense of accomplishment. They had faced the horrors of the mutants and emerged victorious, but the cost had been high.

They had also learned a valuable lesson—that even in a world overrun by zombies, there was still hope and courage. They had learned that even with medieval weapons, they could overcome any challenge. They had learned that even as mercenaries, they could become heroes.

As the mercenaries grappled with their internal conflict, the lieutenants, still wearing their impressive armor, tended to the wounded and paid tribute to the fallen. It was a gesture that, though not enough to ease the pain, recognized the sacrifices made on this unexpected trial.

The mercenaries, now can choose between joining the military or continue to become a mercenary stood among the debris of the battlefield. The burden of their experience, the grief of losing friends, and the uneasy realization that this was only the start of their journey in Lunaria weighed on them. The captain's gaze, a blend of compassion and determination, met theirs, offering both recognition of their ordeal and a tacit assurance of the challenges ahead.

The battle had taken its toll on the mercenaries, leaving them exhausted and emotionally drained. They began the process of setting up an outpost in the designated area of the town, following the orders of the lieutenants. The lieutenants, seeing the fatigue in the eyes of the survivors, took over the physical labor, giving the mercenaries a chance to rest.

The chosen establishment, located near the outskirts of the town, offered strategic advantages for defense while covering a large part of the town's perimeter. The building, which had once been a place of commerce or residence, now showed the signs of the apocalypse, its windows broken and walls stained by the passage of time.

Under the pale light of the moon, the lieutenants worked tirelessly to strengthen the chosen structure. Their movements were fast and accurate, a reflection of their efficiency and expertise. They reinforced the boards, erected the barricades, and secured the entry points. The lieutenants, wearing their impressive armor, looked like guardians protecting the safety of Lunaria's expanding territory.

Meanwhile, the mercenaries found a moment to catch their breath. Some sat on the remains of a crumbling wall, gazing into the darkness with a blend of exhaustion and contemplation. Others gathered in small groups, quietly acknowledging the losses they had suffered and the challenges that lay ahead.

The lieutenants, in their silent coordination, turned the chosen building into a fortified outpost. Their actions spoke of a routine refined through countless trials, a stark contrast to the weariness that hung over the mercenaries.

As the outpost took shape, the lieutenants signaled to the mercenaries, indicating that the immediate task was done. The survivors, gathering the last bits of their strength, moved to occupy the outpost. The interior, though cold and unwelcoming, represented a new refuge amid the chaos.

Within the outpost's walls, the mercenaries experienced a mix of emotions—relief, gratitude, and a lingering sense of anxiety for the uncertain future. The lieutenants, ever alert, assumed positions at key vantage points, their watchful eyes scanning the darkened streets beyond.

The town, which had once been a silent witness to both tragedy and triumph, now bore the mark of Lunaria's expanding influence. The outpost, a testament to the resilience of its defenders, stood as a beacon of hope in the face of adversity. As the survivors settled within the fortified walls, they faced the night with a blend of weariness and determination, ready for the challenges that awaited them in this new outpost at the edge of the town.

The captain's words echoed through the outpost, drawing the attention of the weary mercenaries. Her authoritative tone held a weight that commanded respect, and the survivors gathered in the central area to listen to the announcement.

Surrounded by the fortifications they had just built, the captain stood tall, her silhouette outlined against the backdrop of moonlit ruins. The atmosphere within the outpost was a mix of exhaustion and anticipation, as the survivors absorbed the gravity of the choice presented to them.

"You all have gathered here for something," the captain began, her voice cutting through the quiet tension. "As this training is a bit more special than the normal ones, you can now choose between becoming a military or an official mercenary."

Her words hung in the air, and the mercenaries exchanged glances, contemplating the significant decision that awaited them. The options presented—military or mercenary—carried distinct paths, each with its own set of responsibilities and implications.

"In the military, the one who will join now will immediately be put in the rank of Sergeant," the captain continued, providing a glimpse of the potential advancement for those opting to join Lunaria's formal military ranks.

The survivors absorbed this information, their minds racing with thoughts of the future. The captain's announcement opened up new possibilities, and the central area of the outpost became a space of contemplation and silent conversations.

The moon cast a gentle glow over the scene, illuminating the faces of the mercenaries as they processed the weight of the decision before them. Some gathered in small groups, discussing the pros and cons of each choice, while others found solitary spots to reflect on their individual aspirations.

As the captain concluded her announcement, she looked across the gathered group with a measured expression. "Now make your decisions by tomorrow. You can rest for today."

With those words, the captain dismissed the mercenaries, allowing them the remainder of the night to consider their options. The outpost, once a battlefield, now stood as a symbolic crossroads for those who had fought and survived. As the survivors dispersed, the moonlight continued to bathe the outpost in its soft glow, a silent witness to the choices that would shape the next chapters of their journey in Lunaria.