Cino gathered the officers in the command tent. Flickering torchlight cast dancing shadows across tense faces. "We secured the Western forces' crucial supply route," Cino began, his voice heavy and hoarse, "but the cost… Aisya… is seriously injured." He paused, his voice catching in his throat. His usually sharp, authoritative eyes were now hollow and filled with sorrow. He didn't mention EstoMido's name, not out of indifference, but because his mind was consumed by Aisya's condition. Losing her would be another devastating blow, a gaping wound in his life. "This is not a victory," he continued, his tone strained. "This is a warning." He then revealed that the note Sean had found the previous night was not just a warning, but a message hinting at betrayal within the Eastern ranks.Sean stared at the bandage wrapped around his shoulder. The scar throbbed, not only physically but also emotionally. The wound wasn't a result of incompetence, but a split-second of inattention—a lapse Euro had ruthlessly exploited. The glint in Euro's eyes as he plunged the dagger brought a jarring memory to the surface, momentarily disrupting Sean's focus. If only I hadn't been so careless… He took a deep breath. He knew his own capabilities. He wasn't easily defeated. Yet, something about the encounter with Euro had shaken him, unsettling his usual composure. He shifted his gaze, his thoughts turning to Aisya, who was being treated in a separate tent. The mission was important, but he knew the current situation transcended mere battlefield strategy. Something darker was at play.Sean's purpose in joining the Eastern Party extended beyond revenge or survival. He sensed a deeper malignancy behind the chaos orchestrated by The Despot and Euro. It wasn't simply about power or material gain, but a hidden agenda lurking behind the violence and corruption. Sean felt a dark aura surrounding The Despot, an ambition far exceeding mere tyranny—a darkness threatening to engulf the world. He couldn't yet fully comprehend it, but he was determined to uncover it. He clenched his fists, his knuckles whitening, vowing to expose the conspiracy surrounding The Despot and thwart his plans, whatever the cost.The following day, the camp felt listless. Without Aisya's calming presence—and EstoMido's… well, his presence, for better or worse, always brought a certain energy to the camp—an unsettling imbalance settled over everything. An emptiness permeated every corner. Aisya's injury underscored her importance to the team's unity and morale. While some soldiers felt a sense of relief at EstoMido's absence, they couldn't deny missing the dynamic, even the minor chaos, he usually brought. Aisya's absence—compounded by EstoMido's—made everything feel different.Sean walked among the soldiers, his steps heavy, his gaze dull and distant, avoiding eye contact. His shoulders slumped, as if he carried the weight of the entire camp. Fragments of the battle replayed in his mind: Aisya's worried face, EstoMido's cry, the flash of Euro's dagger. He clenched his hands, his knuckles white. I was there. I should have prevented it. Whispers reached him faintly, mingling with the ringing in his ears. Guilt pressed heavily on his chest, making it difficult to breathe. He felt as though he had failed everyone, especially Aisya.That night, after everyone else had retired, Cino walked toward the medical tent, his steps heavy with apprehension. He paused before Aisya's tent, hearing soft voices from within. He took a deep breath before parting the tent flap. Aisya lay weakly on a cot, her face pale, her eyes closed. A medic was examining her wound. Cino approached slowly and sat beside her, gently taking her cold hand in his.Memories of the past flooded Cino's mind. He saw a young Aisya, a dark-haired girl with bright, sparkling eyes, playing in the fields near their village. They had been together since childhood, sharing joys and sorrows, dreams and hopes. Aisya had always been by his side—his right hand, his advisor, his closest friend. Losing her would feel like losing half of himself.Tears welled in Cino's eyes. He gazed at Aisya's pale face, praying silently for her recovery. He roughly wiped away his tears, trying to maintain a semblance of composure. He knew, as a leader, he had to be strong for his troops. But in this moment, he was simply a frightened friend, facing the potential loss of someone he cherished deeply. He kissed Aisya's forehead softly, whispering, "Hold on, Aisya. Please."