Eve stopped and turned back. Her eyes lingered on the ruins where her father was last seen, fighting until his final breath to protect this district. A distant rumble grew louder as a group of soldiers arrived in haste, led by an officer wearing a coat emblazoned with the royal family's emblem. Behind them, a large, metal-armored carriage raced forward, escorted by several cavalrymen.

"Arthur, come with me! This carriage is assigned for the evacuation of officers' families to Selhurst Fortress," the officer commanded firmly.

Arthur immediately turned to Eve, his expression filled with concern. "Wait! My friend must come with us! She has no one else!"

But the officer shook his head sharply. "This evacuation is strictly for officers' families and nobles. Civilians will be directed to the refugee camp outside the district. We don’t have any more time. Get in now!"

Eve gazed at Arthur as she gently freed her wrist from his grip. "Go ahead, Arthur."

"No, I won’t leave you behind!" Arthur protested, but two soldiers grabbed his shoulders, guiding him toward the carriage.

"This is an order, kid. Don't make us waste any more time!" the officer barked.

Arthur finally surrendered. He climbed into the carriage alongside other children and officers' families. Before the door shut, he turned to Eve, his voice breaking as tears welled up in his eyes. "Eve! I will come back for you! I swear!"

Eve stood frozen, watching as the carriage sped away, cavalry guarding its flanks. The air was filled with the screams of terrified civilians, the clash of swords, and the crackling of magic. The carriage rolled through streets littered with rubble and corpses. The horses neighed uneasily, but the experienced drivers steered them forward with trembling hands. Arthur sat in silence, his fists clenched.

Eve finally turned away, her breath heavy and her heart shattered. She followed the soldiers' directions toward the refugee camp.

Every corner of the city had become a battlefield, and the soldiers fought tirelessly against every witch they encountered. But after hours of combat, the once-spirited warriors now looked drained and weary. Open wounds marked their ranks, and fallen comrades lay scattered across the ruined streets. The realization crept upon them—they were on the brink of defeat.

Civilians desperately sought shelter, while the military struggled to hold back the relentless witch assault. Arthur and Eve were torn apart—one escorted toward the safety of the fortress, the other left to face the harsh reality of a refugee camp.

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The carriage carrying Arthur and the other officers’ children jolted over the uneven, stone-paved roads. Smoke from the burning district rose in the distance, casting eerie shadows on the horizon. Arthur sat still, staring at the tightly shut carriage door.

"Arthur," another boy called out. "Are you okay?"

Arthur only nodded, his heart heavy with thoughts of Eve. His best friend was now alone in a refugee camp, while he was being taken to the security of a fortress.

When they arrived at the gates of Selhurst Fortress, Arthur was struck by the stark contrast before him. Soldiers stood in perfect formation, guarding the entrance with weapons at the ready. Inside, the fortress was bustling with preparations for war.

On the other hand, Eve found herself in the middle of a chaotic refugee camp. The settlement was on high ground, far from the battlefield. Makeshift tents lined the area, and people crowded together, desperate for food and water. Eve glanced around, feeling lost and alone. She had nothing but the clothes on her back and the bitter memory of her father’s sacrifice.

She remained standing, unsure of where to go. Her eyes drifted to the battlefield below. The remaining military forces fought desperately to hold their ground, but the witches’ unrelenting attacks made their efforts seem futile. The district's defenses were crumbling—bodies fell one by one.

Her gaze then locked onto a commanding figure—the second-in-command of the Cavalry Special Forces, Turma Cavaleri na Morrigan. He leaped from rooftop to rooftop, his crimson cloak billowing behind him. His swift, calculated movements carved through the approaching witches with deadly precision. Frederick cut down his enemies before they could pose a greater threat.

He landed back on the ground, running like a storm to continue the fight. But suddenly, a man yanked him into a narrow alley. Frederick clenched his jaw, suppressing his instinct to retaliate.

When he turned, he recognized the man—it was his superior.

"We’re retreating soon. What about the Special Forces? Will you keep fighting here, or will you withdraw with us?"

"It will all be for nothing if we retreat, sir," Frederick replied, his voice laced with frustration.

"For the safety of our men." The officer’s voice was firm. "Look. Their numbers are dwindling, Frederick!"

"Do you want them all to die if we don’t retreat?"

Frederick exhaled sharply. "Our duty is to lead these young soldiers to their deaths, but... very well. No matter what happens, we will follow your decision."

The soldiers were forced to retreat. Artillery units provided covering fire, launching cannon blasts from the borders of Eternity District, forming a final defensive line to prevent the witches from advancing into neighboring regions. Explosions shook the ground, and thick smoke obscured visibility, buying precious time for the retreating troops to regroup.

At last, the cannon fire ceased, and the sky, once ablaze with smoke and streaks of magic, fell into silence. The witches had taken the district—a bitter victory that left only ruin in its wake.

Eternity District, once a beautiful and peaceful city, now lay in smoldering devastation. The victorious cries of the witches echoed through the wreckage, leaving behind a profound sense of loss.

Eternity District stood as a silent witness to the dark forces that had ravaged everything. The battle, fought with relentless sacrifice, left scars upon the land of Adarlan.

Eve was pulled from her thoughts when an elderly woman gently tapped her shoulder. "You’re from Eternity District, child?" she asked kindly.

Eve nodded. "Yes..."

The woman gave her a knowing look. "Come, help us."

Eve finally joined a group of women and children distributing food. But her thoughts remained with Arthur. She wondered if he was safe in the fortress—or if he felt just as lost as she did.

---

That night, Arthur sat in the barracks with the other children. Their meal was simple but sufficient—hard bread, warm soup, and clean water. Yet guilt gnawed at him. It felt unfair to be safe while Eve endured the hardships of the refugee camp.

Meanwhile, in the camp, Eve lay on the hard ground. The cries of young children and the weary sighs of the displaced kept her awake. But she refused to succumb to despair.

Her father had sacrificed himself for her survival, and she was determined to keep living—no matter what.

Two lives now walked separate paths. Arthur—training for war within the fortress. Eve—struggling to survive in the refugee camp.

Yet despite the distance between them, one dream remained: to one day end the chaos wrought by the witches.