[Location: Middle East — Ashvale Town]
Ashvale was a city consumed by fire and fury. Missiles tore through the skyline, collapsing buildings into heaps of smoke and rubble. Screams filled the air as civilians, desperate and terrified, raced through the crumbling streets, each explosion a brutal reminder that death could strike at any moment.
Men clad in black uniforms, their faces cold and unfeeling, fired their rifles indiscriminately into the crowds, cutting down innocents without hesitation. Blood stained the streets as chaos reigned.
In a narrow alley, inside a battered, crumbling house, a grim scene unfolded.Three hostages — a strikingly beautiful woman, a silver-haired man with piercing blue eyes, and a small child who shared the same pale hair and icy gaze — were cornered by armed terrorists. Their captors barked orders and brandished their weapons with cruel smiles.
Without warning, one of the terrorists lunged forward and drove his fist into the silver-haired man's stomach, forcing him to his knees with a sickening grunt. The woman cried out, clutching the child protectively to her chest as the attackers closed in.
The child's wide eyes stayed fixed on the terrorists. In those eyes, there was fear — but also a small flicker of hope.'We will be saved, the boy remembered his father's words, because good people's endings are also good.'
Tears welled up in the woman's eyes. She began to sob, pleading desperately with the terrorists.
"Please, don't hurt him! He's already sick, he can't take this! Please, I beg you!" she cried.
A second terrorist sneered and strode toward her. He grabbed her roughly by the hair and slapped her across the face.
"Shut up, woman," he barked.
Rage suddenly flared in the child's heart.Without thinking, he grabbed a stone from the floor and hurled it at the terrorist.
"How dare you touch my family!" he shouted.
The stone struck the terrorist on the forehead, drawing a thin line of blood.Wiping the blood away with his thumb, the terrorist sneered.
"Well, well. Looks like the brat needs a lesson."
With a wicked smile, he pulled a Glock 19 from his waist and aimed it at the child's father.
The child's heart froze.Tears streamed down his cheeks as he screamed, "Please! Don't do it! I beg you, please!"
The silver-haired man, seeing his son crying, smiled gently. He raised a trembling hand, gesturing for him to be strong — and then made a final gesture of farewell.
"No! Please, no!!" the boy cried out.
The woman screamed too, her voice filled with pure terror.But the terrorist's face remained blank, emotionless, as he pulled the trigger.
Pluchh.Thud.
The man's body crumpled to the floor.
"Nooooooo!"The child's wail tore through the air.The flicker of hope in his eyes vanished, replaced by a hollow, shattered emptiness.
The terrorist turned to the boy and sneered."Did you like that, kid? Don't worry, you'll get to see one more thing before you die."
He aimed the gun at the woman and, without hesitation, pulled the trigger.
Pluchh.Thud.
The woman fell, blood splattering across the broken floor.Her lifeless eyes, once full of love, stared blankly into the void.
The boy stood frozen, emotionless. No fear, no tears, no rage — only a deep, endless grief.
The terrorists laughed cruelly.One of them turned his gun toward the child and began to pull the trigger.
Suddenly, a sharp gunshot rang out.
The terrorist staggered, blood gushing from his chest, and collapsed.
A squad of soldiers stormed into the house, taking swift positions.
"Captain, we found a child and two civilian bodies," one soldier reported into his headset.
"Secure the child and send him to the rescue station," came the captain's voice. "You have five minutes. Move!"
A soldier crouched in front of the boy, gently patting his head. He saw the child's blank stare, locked onto his parents' bodies.
"You have to be strong, kid," the soldier said, his voice thick with sorrow. "You must live. You must survive."
He offered his hand to the boy.
The child, hollow and silent, stared for a long moment — then, slowly, took the soldier's hand.