The victory medical wing is a stark contrast to the standard facility care stations, private recovery areas, advanced treatment options, and attentive staff who treat winners as valuable assets rather than numbered subjects. Team Exodus occupies a section reserved for team combatants, our injuries receiving priority attention despite the unusual nature of our team composition.

  "Scapular displacement with minor fracturing," the medical technician tells Eli as she examines his shoulder with a specialized scanning device. "Enhanced healing protocols will accelerate recovery, but you'll need at least seventy-two hours before full functional restoration."

  Eli winces as the technician applies a molecular bonding field directly to the injury. "Seventy-two hours? When's our next match scheduled?"

  "Five days," I inform him, checking the notification that just arrived on my tablet. "They're giving us the standard recovery period for victorious teams with moderate injury assessment."

  Desta sits nearby, neural recovery pads attached to her temples as specialized equipment helps restore the disrupted interface pathways that Shift targeted during the fight. Her eyes occasionally flicker with code-like patterns as the system runs diagnostic sequences, but she remains otherwise still, conserving energy for healing.

  Ember has sustained the least physical damage, requiring only minor treatment for thermal feedback strain, a common issue for pyrokinetics who push their abilities to maximum output. She paces the recovery area restlessly, flames occasionally flaring in her hair as she processes the fight.

  "That was too close," she says finally, stopping to face me directly. "Half our team was effectively eliminated in the first minute. Against any other opponent, we would have lost."

  "But we didn't lose," I remind her. "We adapted and overcame."

  "This time," she counters, flames intensifying slightly with her concern. "They threw Nova's team at us hoping we'd fail our first match. When we report for our second fight, the challenge will be even greater."

  She's right, of course. The facility doesn't want teams achieving freedom; they'll increase difficulty with each victory, looking for vulnerabilities to exploit.

  "Which is why we use these five days to get stronger," I tell her and the others. "Not just healing, but developing new strategies, improving team coordination, and addressing the weaknesses that nearly cost us today's match."

  Eli looks up from his treatment bed, determination visible through his pain. "Starting with my gravity control. That shit show today could have gotten us all killed. I need to get better, fast."

  "And I require enhanced neural shielding protocols," Desta adds, her voice steady despite the recovery process. "Targeted disruption of system interface represents critical vulnerability exploited effectively by opponent. Countermeasures necessary before next engagement."

  I nod, already formulating training approaches for each team member. "We'll start tomorrow, after initial recovery. For now, rest and processing are the priorities."

  A facility administrator enters our recovery area, tablet in hand and expression professionally neutral. "Team Exodus victory has been officially recorded. Assessment metrics and performance evaluation available for review." He extends the tablet toward me with a slight bow that suggests more respect than I'm used to seeing from facility staff.

  I take the device, scanning the detailed breakdown of our match performance:

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  ---

  TEAM EXODUS – MATCH 1 EVALUATION

  Overall Performance Rating: 78.4% (Victory Achieved)

  Strategy Implementation: 62.1%

  Adaptation to Changing Conditions: 91.7%

  Team Coordination: 59.3%

  Individual Capability Utilization: 83.5%

  Significant Observations:

  Initial formation compromised due to ineffective defensive positioning

  Tactical support vulnerability exploited successfully by opponents

  Gravitational manipulation instability created both advantages and liabilities

  Exceptional environmental adaptation during mid-match strategy shift

  Superior improvisational capability compared to established team protocols

  CRITICAL TACTICAL ERROR: Telekinetic engagement with Rebound despite kinetic conversion capability

  CRITICAL TACTICAL ERROR: Underutilization of physical enhancement integration with telekinetic architecture

  CRITICAL TACTICAL ERROR: Improper asset deployment against specialized opponent capabilities

  Victory primarily attributed to environmental manipulation and unconventional tactical approach rather than superior combat capability or team coordination. Recommendation: Significant improvement in basic formation maintenance, defensive protocols, and opponent-specific counter-tactics required before next match.

  ---

  I wince at the additional observations, recognizing the strategic blunders that nearly cost us the match. Using telekinesis against an opponent specifically designed to absorb and convert energy was a rookie mistake. And after making such a show of my combined physical and telekinetic abilities against Tremor, I'd reverted to using the pure telekinesis I'm used to instead under the stress of team combat.

  "Fuck," I mutter, handing the tablet to Ember. "They didn't miss a thing."

  She scans the evaluation, flames intensifying as she reads. "They're right. I should have engaged Rebound from the start, fire doesn't give him kinetic energy to convert." Her eyes meet mine with unspoken accusation. "And what happened to the guy who took down Tremor with one punch? That integration of physical and telekinetic power could have ended this match in minutes."

  The criticism stings because it's deserved. In the chaos of our first team fight, I'd fallen back on what I'm used to instead of utilizing the full range of my abilities in combination.

  "I screwed up," I admit, loud enough for Eli and Desta to hear as well. "Got caught up in my old way of fighting when things got tough. Won't happen again."

  "Tactical assessment indicates multiple optimization pathways for future engagements," Desta observes, removing one of the neural recovery pads to join the conversation. "Current victory confirms potential viability despite significant errors in execution."

  Eli snorts from his treatment bed. "In normal human speak: we won even though we fought like shit, so imagine how good we could be if we actually knew what we were doing."

  A rare smile touches Desta's lips. "Accurate paraphrase."

  The administrator, who has been waiting silently, clears his throat. "Advanced training facilities have been allocated for your recovery period. Victory privileges include specialized equipment access and enhanced nutrition allocation for accelerated healing."

  "Any information on our next opponents?" I ask, though I expect the standard non-answer about match scheduling protocols.

  To my surprise, the administrator consults his own device before responding. "Team designation: Sentinel. Roster includes four security-specialized assets with defensive focus. Beyond standard public records, match-specific information restricted until forty-eight hours before scheduled engagement."

  After the administrator leaves, I contemplate the brutal honesty of the facility's assessment. We survived today through adaptability and unconventional tactics, not because we functioned effectively as a cohesive team. Our victory exposed fundamental weaknesses in how we approach team combat, weaknesses future opponents will absolutely exploit if we don't address them immediately.

  I close my eyes, allowing the medical suite's enhanced healing protocols to begin repairing the damage from Nova's light beam. Five days to recover, train, and transform the collection of fighters named Team Exodus into an actual team worthy of the freedom we're fighting for.