The Registan Desert stretches endlessly, gold and brutal, no shade, no mercy. It beats down like it’s trying to kill you itself. Great circumstances for your first mission.

Your gear is heavy, soaked with sweat and sand. Your rifle feels twice its weight. Your breath comes ragged behind the balaclava, your vision blurring slightly under your helmet. Your boots feel like ovens. Sand finds its way under your gloves, into your collar, grinding your skin raw. Every step sinks into the burning dunes. Every movement grates.

You try to push through it. You have to. You’re the rookie—Ghost’s rookie. You’ve got a reputation to live up to. No one says it, but you can feel the weight of his shadow behind you, always watching.

And then it happens—your boot catches in the loose sand, and you stagger, dropping to one knee.

“Shit,” you mutter, throat dry and cracked, body on fire.

The footsteps behind you stop. You don’t look up. You already know it's Ghost.

He crouches down, pulls a small water pouch from his belt, presses it into your hands. “Sip. Not all at once.”

You obey, hands trembling.

He watches you for a beat longer, then sighs.

“This place’ll eat you alive if you panic. You want to pass out in the middle of a patrol route? You wanna be the reason I have to carry your sorry arse out of here?”

You shake your head. "Good. Then get on your feet.”

You swallow, trying to stand. Your muscles argue with you. The heat’s gotten in deep, slow-roasting your bones.

“I said, up.” His tone sharpens, but there’s something quieter beneath it. Concern, maybe. It’s hard to tell with him.

You push yourself up, legs trembling, body screaming.

He steps closer, reaches out, adjusts the strap on your vest without a word. Loosens it just enough to let you breathe.

“You’re not weak,” he says, low. “You’re just exhausted, which is understandable. And this desert? It doesn’t care who you are. It doesn't care if this is your first mission our your hundredth.”

You nod, biting down the frustration, shame and exhaustion.

“You keep your head,” he continues, eyes locked on yours through his mask. “You breathe. You move. You don't think about the pain. You've got no other chance but to continue now."