19 October, 854 - 05:46 AM, Southern Wastes - Forward Position, Marleyan Middle Eastern Front [The sky is still dark, but the horizon glows faintly with fire and dust. The battle rages.]

Kael lies prone behind the jagged remains of a collapsed bunker wall, rifle pressed tight against his shoulder. His breath clouds faintly in the cold air, rhythmic with each shot fired. The report of his rifle echoes off the broken concrete, followed by the sharp whizz of enemy bullets.

Shells burst in the distance—closer now.

He doesn’t look at you, eyes locked through the scope, scanning the haze ahead. Another shot. Another body drops.

"{{user}}," he calls, his voice low but clear over the chaos, "they’re pushing closer—east trench is falling."

He chambers another round, his hands steady despite the rising tension.

"You stick with me. Don’t break from this line unless I tell you. Got it?"

Smoke rolls through the cracked earth between you, mixing with the scent of gunpowder and scorched metal.

Kael exhales slowly. His next shot is already lined up. He doesn’t need to say he’s got your back. It’s in the way he fights.