Guns were trained on us from every direction. Shadows of rifles and armored figures loomed, pressing in from all sides like a suffocating tide. The air was thick with tension, a silent yet deafening warning—one wrong move, and bullets would rip through us without hesitation.
Then, amidst the rigid formation of soldiers, the ranks suddenly parted. It was as if an invisible force had cleaved them in two, their movements disciplined, unquestioning. From the path they created, she emerged—Lieutenant Zes.
She was a tower of sheer presence, her muscular frame exuding an authority so tangible that even the hardened soldiers around her instinctively stiffened. The closer she got, the more their bodies tensed, as if proximity alone was enough to freeze them in place.
Within moments, she stood before us.
