Viona began to lose her rhythm of breath. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her eyes wide as she stared at the flashes of light from the phone cameras that kept recording them. Fear crept through her body, making her tremble uncontrollably."What is this, Whitley?" Her voice quivered, almost a panicked whisper.Whitley shook her head, her gaze tightening with tension. She swallowed hard, trying to steady herself even as her mind spiraled into chaos."I don't know either! What the hell is going on?" Whitley’s voice was sharper than usual, reflecting the confusion and anxiety gnawing at her.A man with slightly curly hair stepped forward, holding a microphone in his hand. With confidence, he looked straight at the camera as if he were hosting a show on stage."Look here!" His voice echoed through the room, filled with dramatic flair. "Here, we have a prime example of the wicked women roaming this world!"He grinned as the cameras continued capturing every second of the scene. His eyes gl

Harvey let out a long breath, his eyes fell on the monument made of stone, decorated with rows of names of soldiers who died on the battlefield. The sight made him pause, the atmosphere of silence hanging in the air. He closed his eyes for a moment, as if paying tribute to those who had sacrificed their lives for the country of Kaelvarion.His heart beat softly, feeling the heavy burden they had left behind. Without them, Duskvale might not have remained as safe as it was now.After a few seconds, Harvey opened his eyes and turned his gaze to the display of long-barreled weapons mounted on the wall. The weapon looked shiny under the falling light, not unlike the weapons used by great heroes of the past. Harvey stepped closer, his body slightly bent, his eyes staring intently at the weapon. Memories came to haunt him, rushing like an unstoppable river.In his chest, the accumulated feelings - longing, fear, and the sense of community that had grown up in the war - came rushing back to h

Thompson groaned, his face paled as he looked down at his twisted finger - trapped inside the knuckle bar still wrapped around his hand.“Damn... this hurts!” his voice was shrill, almost hysterical. His breath hitched, beads of sweat starting to run down his temples.Rick quickly slipped his penknife back into his pocket, then crouched down beside Thompson. His gaze was sharp, but his voice remained calm. “Don't panic. It's just a dislocation.”Thompson looked at him with a face full of fear. His breathing was ragged.Rick grabbed Thompson's face, turning him forcefully away from looking at his own fingers. “Take a deep breath. It'll only take a minute.”Before Thompson could protest, Rick had already pulled his finger in one swift motion. A sound like breaking wood was heard.Thompson's scream echoed in the museum. The tingling sensation spread like electricity, making him almost slump to the floor. He held his hand that was now back straight, but the pain still burned every nerve.

“Why are you doing nothing? Get it!” Kurt's voice was sharp, cutting through the air with a tone of command.He stood with his chest puffed out, his arms crossed in front of his body. His head was raised slightly, as if this world was nothing more than his fiefdom. His eyes were narrowed, full of arrogance that demanded obedience.Tom looked down, staring at the pen lying near Kurt's feet. At a glance, he could see the corners of Kurt's lips pulled up-a triumphant smile. Deliberately. It wasn't just an order, but an insult.Tom sighed, the cold air prickling in his throat. A faint smile formed on his face, but his eyes couldn't hide the hesitation. “Alright,” he said, his voice sounding light, but there was something held back there.As his body began to lean forward, a tight grip stopped him. Tim gripped his wrist, so tightly that it almost trembled. The boy stared at him intently, his eyes full of tension.“No, Dad!” he whispered, his voice almost shaking. “Kurt has no good intentio

The man widened his eyes. Without hesitation, he stepped quickly toward Kurt and grabbed his son by the shoulders. “Hit you?”His tone was sharp, filled with shock and pent-up anger. His gaze immediately swept over Kurt's body-his eyes caught the dirty stains on his son's clothes, as well as the few faint bruises that dotted his skin.Kurt furrowed his brows deeply, his lips trembling slightly, as if he was holding back pain. His gaze was full of contrived resignation, asking for mercy.Beside him, Thompson hurriedly thrust his hand forward, exposing his swollen fingers. “Mr. Ben, look at this!” he complained in a pleading tone. “He almost dislocated my finger! If Rick hadn't helped me, I might have broken my hand!”Rick nodded quickly, adding to the dramatization with a tense look on his face, as if they had just escaped a terrible incident.In front of them, Tom stood rigid. His jaw was set, his eyes wide with shock. He knew nothing about this accusation, but a bad feeling began to