"The fluctuations of history can stem from the smallest thoughts of those who seem utterly unrelated. The true nature of all living beings is that they are always connected in the most extraordinary ways..."

  — Excerpt from The Nature of the World, Scholar Emanory.

  ...

  Civilization Zone 3 - Somewhere

  After completing their mission and departing, the Spetsnaz Voro-12 team secretly met with Lieutenant Donskoy's 15th Tank Company and Colonel Makarov to receive special instructions from their superiors.

  In a forest, a gentle breeze glided gracefully across the field, the rustling leaves swaying in the wind, evoking a sense of peace for anyone from the city. Yet, for those present here, a dark aura seemed to envelop the entire area.

  Lise walked in from outside, accompanied by others, observing the two groups her team needed to meet. On one side stood massive tanks alongside other vehicles, which had been explained to her—IFVs and APCs from both factions, their imposing size leaving her in awe. She had never seen them so clearly as she did now.

  As she drew closer, she could make out the soldiers more distinctly. Taking one soldier as an example, she could sense the mysterious yet powerful presence of the man inside the colossal iron vehicle, sparking both curiosity and reverence in first-time onlookers. He wore a dark green or black uniform, not as ornate as a knight's armor but clearly designed to withstand harsh conditions. On his head was an odd helmet, with small round pads covering both ears, resembling some kind of advanced tool incomprehensible to the locals.

  His face, tanned and marked with faint scratches, showed little emotion, but his eyes burned with sharpness and focus, constantly assessing his surroundings. His calloused hands gripped complex equipment inside the vehicle, revealing his familiarity with control and combat. He didn't flaunt his strength, but his resolute demeanor and movements commanded respect. The soldier, along with his steel beast, created an image both alien and formidable, as if from an entirely different world.

  Lise's gaze then shifted to the other side—the so-called RIM PMC, a contract-based military organization, essentially mercenaries, yet their aura was strikingly different. The RIM warriors appeared robust and pragmatic. They wore dark green uniforms, neat and unadorned, paired with thick tactical vests filled with pouches and straps. Their round, flat helmets, equipped with metallic devices, bore no patterns but exuded authority. Their faces were stern, with tanned skin and sharp, resolute eyes. Their large, steady hands firmly grasped simple yet effective weapons. Everything about them radiated cold discipline, with no excess.

  It was clear that none of the people here seemed overly friendly. For Lise, the only woman among them and distinctly different, she was bound to attract a mix of curiosity and apprehension. Stepping behind Vorosimorsk, she whispered, "These people won't do anything, right?"

  Hearing her anxious tone, Vorosimorsk let out a reassuring sigh to calm the young woman, who was shrinking to appear as small as possible. "Don't worry. The commander of the 15th Tank Company is an acquaintance of mine, and the PMC group is an acquaintance of his. You have nothing to fear. They might even be more interested in you than anything else."

  "What?!" Lise exclaimed, misinterpreting his words. But they had already arrived, and there was no turning back. She could only silently pray that everything would go smoothly.

  Vorosimorsk left four members behind and stepped forward to where two figures he was eager to meet awaited. The moment they saw him, they called out.

  "Looks like it's starting, huh?"

  "Not quite, just some light banter for now," Donskoy replied softly, gesturing for Vorosimorsk to hurry over.

  Makarov turned his head. "Well, look who finally shows up." He flashed a faint smile, his eyes glinting with a familiar cold sharpness, both teasing and probing. "I heard you brought an entire special forces team. Planning to surprise someone?"

  Vorosimorsk smirked, stepping closer and extending a hand to shake Makarov's. "A surprise? Not quite, but perhaps a bit of astonishment. It's been a while, Viktor."

  Donskoy approached, nodding in greeting. "It has been a while, Vorosimorsk. I didn't expect you to come in person. Thought you'd just send a liaison."

  "For something this important, I couldn't stay away," Vorosimorsk replied, glancing back at his team. "Viktor, I see you're still as 'heavy-handed' as ever. Did you personally arrange this PMC crew?"

  Makarov shrugged, his smile unchanged. "Business demands a certain 'quality.' This team follows orders and acts when needed. Unlike some who cling to principles and forget reality." His words carried a deliberate edge, his gaze sweeping over Vorosimorsk.

  "Still as blunt as ever," Vorosimorsk chuckled lightly. "But I hope today you can tone down the 'realism' a bit. We're on the brink of a new phase, and I don't want our differences to ruin it."

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  Donskoy interjected, his voice low but weighty. "Enough. We're not here to rehash old grudges. This requires all three of us to work together."

  Makarov glanced at Donskoy, then nodded to one of his officers. "Of course." He gestured toward several boxes and documents being brought forward. "Data on war aftermath, potential resources in occupied zones, and long-term stabilization plans. It's all here. But before we dive in, I'd like to hear your thoughts, Vorosimorsk."

  Vorosimorsk looked at Makarov seriously. "Long-term stabilization? That's what I'm thinking about too. We can't just focus on short-term victories; we need a strategy to ensure control. Otherwise, we're building a castle on sand."

  Donskoy glanced between them, his eyes flickering with surprise. "Come on, gentlemen, let's not get lost in philosophy. We all know the ultimate goal." He looked back and forth between Makarov and Vorosimorsk, then continued, "The question is how to make that strategy practical and effective."

  Makarov tilted his chin, smirking. "The most effective strategy is to exploit what we already have. No time to waste. Don't get too hung up on 'stabilizing' a world we haven't fully controlled."

  "Then I hope you won't rush," Vorosimorsk countered, his eyes sharp. "We need stability before exploitation."

  The atmosphere grew tense as the two men faced off, each carrying their own perspectives and ideals. Donskoy, standing between them, observed quietly, his eyes calculating.

  Finally, he spoke in a calm, steady voice: "We're here to discuss, not argue. Both of you have valid points, but there's only one path to our ultimate goal. I believe, if we coordinate well, we can make this world take notice."

  Vorosimorsk and Makarov exchanged glances, their expressions still tense, but Donskoy's gaze compelled them to set aside their differences for now. Sensing the need to shift topics, Donskoy asked, "So, what are you two planning next?" His sharp eyes scanned the group, lingering on Vorosimorsk.

  Makarov smirked, his eyes gleaming with confidence and a hint of arrogance. "What's next? We just defeated Papaldia, but that's only the beginning. I plan to reorganize RIM PMC for the next steps. Post-war is the perfect time to expand influence, don't you think?"

  Vorosimorsk let out a faint chuckle, his eyes sharp. "Classic Viktor. But you should remember, post-war isn't just about expansion. Have you considered the people caught in the conflict? They need stability, not more pressure from your 'grand plans.'"

  "The people?" Makarov scoffed. "They need stability, sure, I don't deny that. But where does stability come from? Strength. Only when they know who's in charge can they live in peace. Don't tell me you're still clinging to those outdated ideals, Vorosimorsk."

  The air grew heavy again, but Donskoy stepped in to defuse the tension. "Enough, both of you. We know we see things differently, but our end goal is to build a solid foundation for what we've achieved. Arguing about approaches now won't help."

  He turned to Vorosimorsk. "What about you? Any plans?"

  Vorosimorsk shrugged, glancing at the swaying trees. "I've reported to my superiors and received orders to deploy units to aid reconstruction in the southern regions, which were heavily devastated by the war. It'll take time to recover. But sitting around waiting isn't my style. I want to join this adventure as an explorer, alongside my special forces team. We'll not only assist with reconstruction but also explore uncharted lands and seek new opportunities."

  Makarov raised an eyebrow, skeptical. "An adventure? You're really going to take that risk now? I get your point, but adventuring doesn't always yield results. Focusing on rebuilding might be more effective."

  Donskoy listened quietly, weighing their words. He knew their differing approaches but saw merit in both. Standing between them, he sought a balance.

  "Both of you have valid perspectives, and I don't think they're mutually exclusive. Viktor, you can keep expanding your influence, but don't forget that long-term stability requires the people's support. And Vorosimorsk, if you want to explore, ensure those expeditions bring real opportunities to the region. We can't do everything at once, but we can move forward together, step by step."

  Donskoy looked at them sternly. "This isn't just one person's fight. If we don't align toward a common goal, everything we've achieved will collapse."

  Makarov gave a knowing smile. "Fine, I'm not against working together, as long as we don't get bogged down in trivial details."

  Vorosimorsk nodded, his voice warm but firm. "I'm not here to obstruct either. If we're here, let's find a path we can all agree on."

  Donskoy let out a quiet sigh of relief, though he knew the tension between his two comrades lingered. Still, they were ready to cooperate for what lay ahead. "Good. Let's sit down and plan the specifics. We'll need all our wits and patience for the future."

  The three men stood under the trees, their silhouettes stark against the serene yet oppressive backdrop, a sign of the challenges awaiting them. Suddenly, a loud laugh broke the somber mood. All three turned, their eyes fixed on the source. Vorosimorsk immediately recognized Lise and her teammates, surrounded by soldiers from the 15th Tank Company and RIM PMC.

  The soldiers, especially from the tank company, were clearly intrigued by the only woman in the group. Lise's distinct appearance made her the center of attention. Questions flew at her—where she was from, whether she was a mage from this world. Lise smiled gently, responding with calm grace despite slight discomfort. She clearly didn't want to reveal too much, but the soldiers' curiosity only grew.

  A RIM PMC soldier, his stern face unable to hide his curiosity, asked, "Are you a mage? I heard some people from this world have special abilities."

  Lise smiled mysteriously. "You could say that, but I'm not the only one."

  Makarov, standing behind, couldn't resist commenting with a playful smirk. "I don't think she's a mage—she's a puzzle. But if she can pull off magic like that, it wouldn't be bad at all." He raised an eyebrow, glancing between Lise and the questioning soldiers. "Still, I think the soldiers' curiosity is the real highlight here. And it's not hard to see why, with her... unique appearance."

  Vorosimorsk shot Makarov a glance, unsure whether to be amused or annoyed by his teasing. "She's definitely unforgettable to these soldiers. But let's not let them bother her too much," he said seriously, though his eyes stayed on Lise as she handled the crowd with ease.

  Makarov shrugged, still watching. "Relax, Vorosimorsk. They're just curious." He smirked, adding, "She's holding her own just fine among these soldiers. They're probably more interested in what she can do."

  Donskoy only smiled, saying nothing, but his eyes betrayed his interest in Lise. He didn't know if she was a mage, but she undeniably had a strange charisma that drew attention. Everyone around her seemed captivated by the conversation, momentarily forgetting the tensions at hand