Under the scorching sun, the squad worked tirelessly even though they were injured and exhausted. The facility's interior buzzed with subdued activity, the rescued townsfolk finding makeshift corners to rest and regroup.
Outside, Billy and Manas moved among their remaining soldiers, checking their wounds, tightening bandages, and offering quiet words of encouragement.
Despite the fact that it helped a little, the air was still remian heavy, not just from being tired but also from an unsaid sadness.
A middle-aged man with a worn but friendly face walked up to them in the middle of everything. His clothes were torn and his hands were shaking a little from being tired, but the thankfulness in his eyes was so strong that words couldn't fully describe it.
"Excuse me, sirs," the man said, his voice rough but unwavering,
