The Dhuman soldiers and John slowly walked through the ruined capital.
Exhausted guards leaned against cracked walls, some barely able to stand. Wounded soldiers sat on the ground, moaning softly as healers worked tirelessly to patch their injuries. Smoke rose from smoldering buildings, and the acrid scent of charred wood filled the air.
John looked around quietly.
"This kingdom has suffered a lot," he muttered.
The soldiers led the way to the royal castle. Inside, the destruction was even more apparent. Cracks ran along the walls, and emergency repairs were underway, with carpenters and guards working side by side.
Finally, they entered the throne hall. The king stood near his seat, surrounded by the few remaining guards. His eyes were weary, his shoulders heavy with worry.
"Who are you?" he demanded, voice sharp with fatigue.
Before John could answer, the Dhuman soldiers pressed a button on their wrist watches. For a moment, they vanished from sight. Gasps filled the room. The guards stepped back as the soldiers suddenly reappeared directly in front of the king.
"What the—" the king whispered, stunned.
John stepped forward, hands raised calmly.
"My name is John. We came to help you."
The king narrowed his eyes.
"Help? How could you possibly help us? And… you don't look like people from this world."
John nodded.
"You're right. We are not."
At that moment, the king's son rushed in, ready to defend his father. But when he saw the soldiers vanish and reappear again, his stance froze, eyes wide with shock. The guards were equally stunned.
John's voice remained calm.
"All of us are here to help. Our goal is peace."
The king paused, weighing his options. His kingdom was crumbling. The war had taken half his people. To refuse help now could mean total annihilation.
Finally, he spoke, voice low but steady.
"If what you say is true… then we may have no choice but to accept your help."
John nodded.
"Good. Then we begin."
For the first time in many months, hope stirred within the heart of the ruined kingdom.