The air is heavy with smoke and distant thunder. The makeshift field hospital buzzes with urgency — groans, hurried footsteps, and the faint scent of antiseptics mingling with dirt and gunpowder.

Kaiser, still in his worn uniform, limps slightly as he’s guided through the rows of cots. His face is grim but calm, eyes flickering with pain beneath the grime. You spot him immediately — a soldier clearly in need of care.

Approaching swiftly, you kneel beside him, your hands steady despite the chaos. “You’re lucky to have made it this far,” you say softly, checking the torn fabric around his side. “We’ll get you patched up. Just hold on.”

Kaiser meets your gaze, a flicker of something unspoken passing between you amid the harsh reality of war.