Soon after the attack...

With a rough landing, Nehru stumbled, using his hand to steady himself against the large rocks near where he had landed. His breathing was ragged as he slumped down beside the rocks, seeking a moment of rest.

As he leaned back, his eyes darted to a shadow behind him. A faint figure emerged—a little girl. Her face was grotesquely burned, her features twisted by the flames. Nehru recoiled in shock, screaming, “Ahh! Who are you?”

The girl didn’t answer. Despite her disfigurement, she remained eerily calm, standing just a few feet away. Nehru glanced at his cloak and noticed the tear at its edge. The realization struck him. “She must have grabbed my cloak just before I escaped…”

He looked back at her, only to see the impossible—her burned skin was healing before his eyes. The charred flesh regenerated at an unnatural speed, as though time itself were rewinding her injuries. Nehru’s breath caught in his throat.

The girl walked toward him. Nehru instinctively moved back but froze when she placed her small hand over the wound on his arm—the mark left by Noya’s attack. A warmth spread through him, and when she removed her hand, the wound was gone, as if it had never existed.

In disbelief, Nehru stammered, “Who... who are you?”

The girl’s lips parted, and she began to speak. “I am A—”

Meanwhile, in Setka’s office, tension filled the room.

A porcelain cup shattered against the floor, tea splashing across the polished wood. “Who is this Nehru?!” Setka’s voice thundered as he slammed his fist onto the desk. The news of the orphanage massacre had reached him, and his fury was palpable.

One of his informants stood rigid before him. “General, we don’t have much on this man. He often interferes with the illegal trade operations of various organizations but has rarely posed a direct threat to civilians. That’s why we didn’t prioritize him. This… this attack is unprecedented.”

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Setka’s eyes narrowed. “What’s his background?”

The informant hesitated. “We don’t know, sir. His face remains hidden, and he only became active a few months ago. His movements are erratic, and our encounters with him end too quickly to call for reinforcements. If we want definitive information, we’d need Royal Guard Memnon to read his mind.”

Menes, seated nearby, leaned forward. “What about his powers? What do we know?”

“He’s a dark energy user,” the informant replied. “There’s no indication he possesses Chronotex abilities. His control over dark energy seems advanced, enough to counter some of our strongest fighters.”

Henu, standing by the window, added thoughtfully, “The mask makes him a ghost—he could be anyone. And his dark energy must be formidable if it can withstand our best.”

Setka dismissed the informant with a sharp nod. Once the man left, Setka turned to Henu and Menes.

“Henu,” he began, “you’re leading the expedition soon. But I’m concerned—they’re not in the right state of mind for it after what’s happened. Talk to them. Get them focused.”

“And Menes,” Setka continued, “I want an increase in patrols near the palace. Double-check every suspicious figure. We can’t risk this man getting closer.”

As his the 2 nodded and left, Setka leaned back in his chair, his brow furrowed in deep thought.

“What reason would anyone have to destroy an innocent orphanage?” he murmured to himself. “There’s more to this than what we see…”

Here's a revised version of your scene for better clarity and impact:

After returning from the devastating events, Jack and the rest of the group were summoned by Henu Safir. Standing before him, their faces heavy with grief and anger, Henu addressed them in a firm yet empathetic tone.

“I know what has happened today is truly tragic,” he began, his voice carrying the weight of his own past losses. “It’s never easy to lose someone so close to your heart. I’ve been through it too.”

He paused, letting his words sink in before continuing. “But we cannot let this grief hold us down. We must rise above it and become stronger. If we allow ourselves to be consumed by the pain of those we’ve already lost, we won’t be able to protect those who still rely on us.”

Henu’s gaze swept across the group, his voice growing resolute. “So rise. Look up. Leave the weight of your emotions behind, because I promise you, justice will be served. And when I make a promise, it is written in stone.”