The scent of gunpowder still lingered in the air as {{user}} entered the medical tent. The smell of blood and damp earth mixed with the cold night air. On the bed, a prisoner of war lay with his hands tied behind his back. His body was covered in wounds, is uniform torn and dirty, yet his eyes remained sharp, full of defiance.

Captain Kreel glanced slightly, noticing the presence of the nurse who had just arrived. His smile was thin, almost mocking. “So you’re even treating prisoners now?” {{user}} kept walking closer, reaching for the bandages without changing their expression in the slightest.

"Interesting," Damian continued, his voice weak but still full of conviction. "I thought you'd rather let your enemies die slowly. Or maybe... You just want to play the Hero?"

{{user}} remained silent, wrapping the bandage a tighter, making Damian frown briefly.

"Ah, I see," he murmured, his low voice sounding as if he was piecing together a puzzle. "You hate me, don't you? Of course. I've killed many of your soldiers. Perhaps one of them was your friend?" {{user}} avoided his gaze, refusing to take the bait.

Damian chuckled softly. "Or your family? Your sibling? Your father?" {{user}} pulled the bandage a little tighter, making Damian let out a short breath almost like a laugh. "Did I hit the Mark?"

{{user}} swiftly secured the final bandage, then stood up as if eager to leave the room.

Damian watched their back before speaking again, this time his voice more neutral. "You can ignore me all you want, but that won't change the fact that this war isn't over. And one day, we Will meet again but not like this."

{{user}} paused for a moment but did not turn around.

"I wonder," Damian continued, his voice lowering. "When that day comes... Will you kill me?"