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Primordial
Baptism of Fire

Baptism of Fire

Chapter 11: Baptism by Fire

Tyson adjusted the straps on his combat vest, feeling the weight of the equipment settle into his body. The sound of helicopters thudded overhead, creating an ominous rhythm that matched the quickened beating of his heart. Today was his first mission with the Immortal Army. Despite the rigorous training he'd endured, this was different. This was real.

He stood in line with his unit, their faces grim under the dim lights of the hangar. Captain Aealer. strode in front of them, her presence commanding respect and silence.

"Listen up," she barked, her voice cutting through the tension like a blade. "Our objective is clear. We extract the target and eliminate any resistance. This is a high-risk operation. Stick to your training, stay focused, and follow orders. Any questions?"

There were none. Tyson could see the determination in his comrades' eyes. He wondered if they could see the uncertainty in his. The question of morality had plagued him since he joined the Immortal Army. Could he retain his humanity amidst the carnage and chaos?

The ride to the drop zone was tense. Tyson watched the landscape blur beneath them, a patchwork of greens and browns. When the helicopter touched down, the team moved with practiced efficiency. They were in enemy territory now, every shadow a potential threat.

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The mission was a blur of motion and violence. Tyson found himself in the thick of it, his training kicking in. He moved through the dilapidated buildings with precision, his senses heightened. The first contact with the enemy was brutal. Gunfire erupted, and Tyson saw men fall. His heart pounded, and he pushed forward, each step a battle against the part of him that wanted to retreat.

They reached the target, a scientist held captive by a rogue faction. As they secured the area, Tyson saw something that made him hesitate. A young boy, no older than ten, crouched in the corner of the room, eyes wide with fear. The boy was holding a makeshift weapon, his hands trembling.

"Stand down, kid," Tyson said, his voice softer than he intended. The boy didn't move. His eyes darted to the dead bodies around them, then back to Tyson.

"Please," the boy whispered. "Don't hurt me."

Captain Aria stepped forward, her weapon trained on the child. "Tyson, secure the target. We don't have time for this."

Tyson hesitated, his moral compass clashing with his orders. The boy was no threat, just a frightened child caught in the crossfire. But disobeying orders could jeopardize the mission and his standing in the unit.

In that moment, Tyson made a decision. He lowered his weapon and reached out a hand to the boy. "It's okay. You're safe now."

Aria's eyes narrowed, but she didn't intervene. She knew better than to waste time on a debate in the middle of a mission. "Move out," she ordered, turning to lead the way back to the extraction point.

As they left the building, Tyson kept the boy close, shielding him from the violence around them. He couldn't save everyone, but he could save this one.