“We all want peace, Marshal, but at what cost?” a stout man from the Ironclad faction demanded, slamming his fist on the table. “Some of us have bled too much to sit at the same table as the likes of them.” Elijah leaned forward, his calm voice cutting through the rising tension. “We’ve all made sacrifices, Mr. Groves. But if we don’t unite now, the next battle won’t leave anyone standing to argue about the cost.” Murmurs rippled through the room. The grand chamber was packed with leaders and representatives from resistance groups, each with their own agendas and grievances. A woman with sharp eyes and a stern expression, representing the Redstone faction, spoke next. “Your vision is admirable, Marshal, but naïve. The Quinn family may be gone, but their ideology lives in those who benefited from it. We need strength, not talks.” Sophia, seated beside Elijah, cleared her throat and stood. Her voice was steady but carried a hint of sharpness. “Strength doesn’t mean refusing to n

“Marshal, we’ve secured the perimeter,” Doug reported, wiping the sweat from his brow. “But something about this place doesn’t sit right. Too quiet.”   Elijah scanned the desolate border town, his sharp eyes catching the eerie stillness. Burned-out houses stood like silent sentinels, and the faint smell of ash lingered in the air. "It’s a trap," he said finally, his tone cold. "Spread the word. No one moves without caution."   Doug saluted. "Yes, Sir." He immediately began issuing orders, his voice cutting through the uneasy silence like a blade.  The team advanced carefully, their steps measured. Every shadow felt like a threat, every sound a warning. Suddenly, one of the soldiers froze. &nb