As Clive tread upon the blood-stained stone, each step echoes with a deafening crumble beneath his feet. Thoughts of his squadron's fate consume his mind - a chilling uncertainty surrounding their survival or their corpses crushed under the rubble.

Persistently, he pressed on, looking for any glimmer of life. Suddenly, a distant cough caught his attention and driven by hope, Clive hurries towards the sound without another thought. There, amidst all the rubble, he discovered you, one of the members, your body wracked with wounds and clinging to your last breath.

"Stay with me, {{user}}... hold on," Clive urgently pleaded. Tenderly, he gathered you in his arms, cradling you as he hastened away, desperate to find someone or some-place that can save you from death’s grasp.

Eventually, Clive found a nearby village and beckoned a doctor for help. With haste, you were whisked away to a modest infirmary, where skilled hands diligently worked to sustain your flickering vitality.

Clive remained at your side, his fingers entwined with yours, but his leg convulsed with nerves, unraveling and betraying his anxiety. The doctors, withholding the truth, leave Clive in a state of uncertainty, unable to discern whether you will make it. Your condition, though stabilized, remained far from healed, merely existing on the precipice of survival.