Kazuya's breath came in ragged gasps as he finally reached the shelter. He was tired, but he pushed forward, desperate to see what had happened. As he came to a stop, he froze at the sight before him.
Mousa, Jun, Shota, and Toma stood silently in front of the shattered gates, their eyes fixed on the ruins of the shelter. The gates, once strong and imposing, were now twisted and broken, hanging loosely from their hinges. The walls that had protected them all were crumbling, blackened with soot and flame.
Kazuya's eyes widened as he took in the devastation. The shelter, their home, was gone—reduced to little more than smoking rubble. But what made his heart clench were the deadbodies scattered across the ground. Amid the debris, were the still forms of refugees— they were men, woman, elders and even children.... They were people they had fought to protect, people who had looked up to them as heroes.
A thick silence hung in the air, broken only by the distant crackling of dying flames. The bandits stood in stunned silence, unable to look away from the tragedy before them. Kazuya's chest tightened, his eyes burning with tears he refused to let fall.
He wanted to speak, to ask what had happened, but the words died in his throat. There was nothing to say. The sight of those lifeless bodies, the remnants of what had been their sanctuary, said it all.
Kazuya took a step forward, his knees threatening to give way. He felt numb, disbelief mingling with the deep sense of loss that settled like a stone in his gut. As he took another step, he fell down as his body felt fatigued. Tears ran down his face as he looked at catastrophe infront of him. The people he had eaten with, chatted with, and who had even made him feel comfortable when he was new...were all down on the ground, motionless and gone forever.