The assault squad members exchanged glances, their faces marked by weariness mixed with determination and resolve.
Facing the pressures of life and death and harsh truths, they did not retreat, instead finding trust in each other as support in this extreme situation.
In the vast darkness, they were like tiny flickering sparks, seemingly insignificant, yet enough to illuminate a glimmer of hope on the desolate path ahead.
David gripped the sword hilt tighter, the ice-blue cold gleam refracted by the Frost Wolf Longsword seemed to contain the most piercing cold of the winter night, also like the unyielding soul forged over countless ages.
He spoke softly, "No matter how much darkness lies ahead, we have to protect hope, even if it's only to delay three hundred years, we must ensure someone in the future remembers that there were those who resisted."
