Not perfectly—Cael’s fifty-meter shift meant they had to frantically adjust their engagement angles on the fly—but the academy survey’s fundamental architecture held true. The hostiles were exactly where the documents claimed, just physically pressed against the rock by the deep layer’s current. The resulting skirmish was swift, brutal, and flawlessly efficient.

Standing in the quiet aftermath of the northern approach, Valerica pulled up her first list. She made four crisp updates: adjusting positions, revising the timeline, and striking one neutralized threat from the board. She stared at the glowing document.

"The academy survey was recent," Valerica noted, her dark eyes calculating. "Or, this specific population simply hasn’t migrated. Either way, the methodology is sound." She tapped a new algorithm into her inference model for the blind East sector. "North confirms. The field layer adjustment applies universally. The East sector success projections just moved up from forty-seven percent to sixty-two."

Dav lowered his weapon, raising an eyebrow. "Before we’ve even set foot in it."

"Because we have officially confirmed the underlying methodology," Valerica explained, her tone carrying the absolute certainty of her logic. "If the survey is accurate about the North, and it was built from the exact same baseline data as the East, then the field layer adjustment will apply uniformly across the zone." She closed the update with a sharp swipe of her finger. "We move into the East with sixty-two percent confidence, rather than forty-seven."

Dav stared at the number on his shared screen. In his Year Two evaluations, sixty-two percent confidence on a blind approach was a luxury. He recognized it for what it was: an operational green light.

It was Dav who found the ghost squad.

He was running a standard perimeter check along the northern boundary when he caught the movement. Two figures stood perfectly still near the North-East boundary marker, their faces illuminated by the pale glow of their bands. Dav threw up a silent hand signal. Within seconds, Vane’s squad converged on the tree line.

The opposing unit belonged to Renae Osk, a Year Three student Vane distinctly remembered sitting four rows back during Sael’s auditorium briefing. Renae led her squad to the invisible boundary line and stopped.

Both squads stared at each other through the dense, quiet foliage.

"North and West," Renae said aloud. It wasn’t a question.

"Yes," Vane replied smoothly.

Renae glanced down at her band. "East and South." She looked up, her eyes flicking toward the massive, terrifying blank spots on her own partial map. The exact blank spots that Vane currently held the data for.

The trade was agonizingly obvious. Mathematically, it was the only rational choice. Two elite squads, both crippled by incomplete intelligence, both holding the exact key the other desperately needed. One simple data transfer, and both squads would possess the full picture. Both would score with lethal efficiency. Both would walk out of the evaluation with vastly superior data.

Renae stared at Vane, her eyes doing the rapid, brutal calculus of a survivor arriving at the exact same result from the opposite direction. Behind her, three battle-hardened students stood with the terrifying, utterly still attention of people who had bled in real zones before.

Vane held the boundary line.

He remembered his first evaluation—the Day One standoff, the burning temptation to trade, the agonizing decision to walk away. Sael’s cruel format wasn’t testing their ability to barter. Trading information immediately collapsed the very asymmetry the evaluation was designed to inflict. Sael’s test existed because the asymmetry existed. The true measure of their worth was whether they could understand exactly what they were missing, and still possess the terrifying resolve to act without it.

Renae’s eyes hardened. She had reached the exact same conclusion.

"Good luck," she said quietly.

"You too," Vane replied.

Renae’s squad melted away into the eastern shadows. Vane’s squad watched them disappear.

Dav stared hard at the empty tree line. "They had it," he said, his voice tight with suppressed frustration. "East and South. Literally everything we are about to walk into blind."

"Yes," Vane agreed softly.

"And we just let them walk away."

"The evaluation does not end when you magically acquire the full map," Valerica interjected, her voice cutting through Dav’s frustration like ice. She calmly watched Renae’s position markers update and fade on her assessment band. "It ends when you prove you can do something with the crippled information you were actually given." She looked toward the ominous, undocumented East sector boundary. "The ’something’ that matters is what we are going to do with sixty-two percent confidence and Cael’s rebuilt model."

Dav looked at the dark tree line. He looked at the exact spot where Renae had stood. He didn’t argue. He just tightened his grip on his weapon and picked up his kit.

Before the Day One evening cycle fully set in, they established their hold against the western ridge face.

Valerica’s first list proudly boasted six hard updates. The dreaded second list had successfully closed two entries—verified by field data—but had violently birthed three new ones based on what the zone had thrown at them. The second list was still longer than the first.

Sitting near the edge of their perimeter, Cael finally opened her eyes from a deep trance.

"I have the third layer," she announced softly.

She had successfully rebuilt the entire projection model from the ground up. It was infinitely sharper and vastly more lethal than the one she had arrived with.

The sprawling zone ahead of them was still mostly dark on their command bands. But sitting there in the cold air, looking at the black trees... it didn’t feel nearly as terrifyingly dark as it had that morning.