[The war, or what the world referred to as a war, had not actually been a war. There were no battlefields or warring armies. It was not a question of politics, territory, or resources. It was a silent, deliberate annihilation.]
[Year 2032 …
A team of young operatives, led by Magnus Reid, was on a surveillance mission. They had received reports of a rumored attack on refugees near Chamonix Valley, Haute-Savoie. The team consisted of six more members—Lena Rowe, Sasha Everett, Draven Kessler, Iris Faust, Tristan Holt, and Theo Archer.]
"How much farther do we have to go?" Theo asked, panting as he walked.
"It's just a bit more. We're almost there," Magnus replied.
"This is tiring as hell. Can't we just take the planes? We parked them only ten miles from here," Theo said, frustrated.
"And give away our location by doing so?" Lena interjected. "The attack rumors are fresh, and if they're true, we can't fly in. The enemies might still be there."
"I'm exhausted, man. I can't walk anymore." Theo dropped to his knees, completely worn out. "You guys go ahead. I'll catch up later."
"We can't allow that, Theo. Come on, as Captain Magnus said, it's just a little bit more. Show some energy," Iris encouraged him energetically.
"I don't want to hear that from you, Iris, of all people. You got a piggyback ride from Tristan! You were the first one to get exhausted. And I have no idea how the hell Tristan managed to carry you," Theo grumbled, fuming.
"It's called the power of love, Theo. You'll understand once you fall in love," Tristan said mockingly, his face shining with amusement.
"Enough, everyone! Stop this and move," Lena commanded. "And Captain Magnus, you should say something too. Don't go easy on them."
Laughing, Magnus replied, "It's okay. They know what they're doing and won't do anything to hinder the mission."
Draven walked past Theo and muttered, "Oy, keep moving, you slowpoke."
"What did you say, you bastard?" Theo snapped, looking at Sasha. "Did you hear what he just called me?"
Sasha gave Theo a disgusted look. "Weak." Theo glared at her and started shouting, "Not everyone has monstrous strength and stamina like you!"
Sasha ignored his comment and walked ahead.
"We've reached the location," Magnus said, his tone suddenly serious.
"What is this…? How did this happen?" Lena asked in disbelief.
No one could believe what they were seeing.
The plain ground before them was covered in bodies—nothing but lifeless bodies as far as the eye could see. The tents, once homes to refugees, were all destroyed, torn to pieces. The ground, which should have been covered in green grass, was now drenched in red.
"This is worse than the rumors we got. This wasn't just an attack on a refugee camp… this was an annihilation," Draven said, disbelief clear in his eyes.
Iris couldn't handle the sight before her and threw up. "Iris, hold on," Tristan said, supporting her. With terror in her eyes and tears streaming down her face, she stammered, "How… how can someone do this?"
Forcing himself to regain composure, Magnus commanded his squad. "We're here to do our job. Spread out and search for any survivors or weapons left behind."
Hearing Magnus' voice, Lena stepped forward. "Sasha, the Captain, and I will look for weapons, if any are left. The rest of you, look for survivors."
Everyone moved swiftly to carry out their orders.
After searching for some time, all they found were three rifles and five knives.
"Only this much?" Magnus sighed.
"It looks like the attack was mainly caused by fighter jets. I assume Reaver Mk-Vs were used. The rifles are all Thunderclaw AR-72s. What about survivors?"
"None," Lena replied.
Iris collapsed to her knees in despair, crying. "Not a single one… (sniff)... We couldn't protect a single one." Tristan tried to console her as she wept.
"Where's Sasha? Everyone's here except her," Magnus asked.
"She went east to look for weapons," Lena said. Suddenly.
"Everyone, come here!" Sasha's voice rang out.
Everybody rushed toward her. Magnus, alarmed, asked, "What happened, Sasha? Did you locate an enemy?"
Theo thought to himself, ["She wouldn't have shouted if it were an enemy. Besides, there's no sign of them anywhere"].
"No, it's not that," Sasha said, pointing at something. Everyone followed her gaze, and what they saw left them stunned. "A survivor," she said.
"He's breathing, but he's bleeding. Draven, first aid, quickly!" Lena ordered, panicking.
Draven immediately started cleaning the young man's wounds and applying bandages.
Tristan pulled out the portable stretcher from his bag—the one they carried in case of mission injuries.
"We should move, Captain," Tristan suggested. "It's already getting dark. We need to set up a base somewhere nearby."
Agreeing with Tristan, Magnus ordered the squad to head toward the forest.
Before leaving, Sasha took pictures of the massacre for reports and future action.
Night had fallen, and the squad had set up a base in the forest. A heavy silence hung in the air. It felt like everyone was waiting, lost in thought, all thinking the same thing.
The young man's eyebrows twitched. Sasha noticed immediately. "Captain, his eyebrows moved," Sasha informed Magnus.
"Are you sure?" Magnus asked. "Yes, I am."
Everyone gathered around him, staring intently.
Then—
"Aaahhhh!"
The young man jolted upright with a scream, giving almost everyone a mini heart attack. He panted, his head moving frantically as he realized he was surrounded by strangers.
Panic set in. He backed away.
"Please, spare me! I didn't do anything!" he begged, terror-stricken.
He thrashed about, causing a commotion—until suddenly, a sharp slap echoed through the air.
Lena had slapped him - "Calm down and listen. We won't harm you. Just calm down," she said firmly.
The young man nodded hesitantly. After some time, he finally settled down. Then came the questions.
"So, who are you? What's your name?" Lena asked.
"Dorian," he replied.
His name was Dorian—the only survivor.
After that, he told them everything—how his parents had been killed in the first wave of attacks. How he had found refuge in the camp, barely scraping by, hoping to outlast the chaos. But fate had been cruel. Another strike had come, wiping out the camp in an instant.
He had been unconscious, spared by luck or misfortune—he wasn't sure which.
The guilt in his eyes was unmistakable, though he didn't say it aloud. Why had he survived when so many hadn't?
Lena, sensing the turmoil within him, didn't push. "You don't have to explain everything now." They took him back to their base. It was a risk, but leaving him there was worse.
Over time, he adjusted. He trained with them, learned their ways. His body was weak from hunger and injury, but his mind—his mind was something else. He was sharp, observant.
A bit average in physical activities.
Dorian was no longer the half-dead boy they had found in the ruins. He had become one of them. And he had set his eyes on survival
—or perhaps something even greater, though only he knew what it was.
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Available Information:
Reaver Mk-V
Type: Fighter Jet
Design: Sleek, matte-black frame with heat-resistant body that can reach Mach 7 speeds.
Weaponry: Plasma-charged autocannons & adaptive missile pods that change payloads mid-flight.
Special Ability:"Inferno Rain" – Releases a firestorm of cluster bombs over a massive area.
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