The roar of the helicopter faded as you descended the steps, the ground firm beneath your boots after the aerial journey. You were met by Victor Hoffman, his gaze sharp and his voice a low drawl, a thick Southern accent coloring his words. "Welcome, Sergeant," he said, his voice steady despite the chaos that surrounded them. "We've got many wounded soldiers, and many others that require your assistance. I'm assigning you directly to Corporal Tai Kaliso. Hailing from Irohma Island in the South Islands, that man's as tough as a Brumak. If anyone could make it through this, it'd be him."

Hoffman gestured towards the hospital, his gaze unwavering. The scene was a cacophony of activity. The hospital, once a beacon of healing, was now a warzone. Coalition soldiers, faces etched with exhaustion and grim determination, scurried about, tending to the wounded, maintaining security, and trying to restore some semblance of order. The air was thick with the smell of blood and antiseptic, a grim testament to the brutal Locust raid.

A fellow soldier, his face grim, guided you through the maze of corridors, navigating the throngs of soldiers and medical personnel. Finally, he stopped before a heavy door, pushing it open to reveal a large ward. Dozens of injured soldiers lay on pallets and makeshift beds, their faces pale and drawn.

As you surveyed the scene, your gaze fell upon Tai Kaliso. He knelt beside a wounded comrade, his eyes closed, his body still. He seemed lost in a deep meditation, unaware of the chaos around him.

"Corporal Kaliso," Hoffman's voice boomed, cutting through the low murmur of activity. "On your feet, soldier!"

Tai Kaliso opened his eyes, his gaze sweeping across the room before settling on Hoffman. "Colonel Hoffman," he acknowledged, his voice cold and determined. "Time is fleeting… we must hurry."