Both leaders, Hassa and Xavier, stood facing each other in the scorching desert, their expressions reflecting the gravity of the moment. Xavier, exuding confidence, broke the silence.
"Is this fight really necessary? Give up, brother… I will clean up the faction and make things right," Xavier's voice was firm, his eyes narrowing with determination.
Hassa shook his head, his eyes steady and resolute. "No, brother… believe me… I will do what is best for the faction."
Xavier took a deep sigh, the frustration evident in his posture. He turned toward the elders who supported Hassa and gestured broadly. "How many of these people could you really trust? How can you say you do best for the faction when you cannot gain their respect? Can you really control them?" His words were heavy, his fist raised to emphasize his might.
