The island slept, but the war chamber did not.
From the depths beneath the palace, the call came. An urgent summon.
Rayyan, Amir, Jabir, Malik, and Baba emerged from the shadows of the underground medical wing, their hearts still weighed down by the miracle and heartbreak of the cure.
But as they entered the chamber of global command, the room spoke a new kind of pain.
Screens lined the walls. Faces of leaders from all 195 nations stared back at them, connected through a secured conference call. Behind every face—desperation.
One leader began, his voice heavy: "We have survivors still locked inside cities. Some in basements. Some in apartment blocks. They have no food. No water. It's been over ten days."
Another voice broke in—trembling: "We attempted a helicopter drop. Just food. Just water. The moment it touched ground, they came. Swarmed it. Tore every soldier apart. Live. On broadcast."
No one spoke.
Another screen flickered to a live stream. A woman, holding her skeletal child, cried into the camera. "We are not afraid of the infected anymore. We are afraid of being forgotten. Just let them bite us. At least then we won't feel hunger."
Her words stabbed the room like knives.
Jabir turned away, his hand clenching. "They're giving up... because we're not showing up."
Amir said quietly, as if speaking to the air: "If he were here... he'd have gone in himself. No armor. No guards. Just faith."
Rayyan looked at the screen. Then, he spoke. His voice was calm. Clear. Final. "We don't wait. We act. Now."
Baba stepped forward beside him. "We still have the drone fleets MRD created. Thousands of Reapers stationed worldwide. Millions of meals in secure bunkers."
Rayyan turned to the generals and tech team. "Deploy everything. No delay. Every country. Every city. Drones fly in first with food, Reaper units land second. No soldier alone. No survivor forgotten."
A general saluted: "Sir, we begin now. Full-scale deployment."
The global leaders were silent. Some bowed their heads. Some wiped tears. Some simply whispered, "Thank you."
Rayyan ended the call with one promise: "They still breathe... because of him. Let them live... because of us."