After dinner, the aroma of coffee lingered lightly in the air of Van's study. Arman and Mahendra stood, adjusting their jackets, and prepared to descend to the palace's ground floor. Crystal chandeliers cast a soft glow on the marble floor, marking a quiet yet meaningful evening.

  Van stared at the two of them from the small balcony at the exit. He was silent for a moment, his eyes tracing their retreating shadows, and he said to himself, “Whatever mission you undertake, never leave your prayers behind…” The voice wasn’t spoken aloud, but it felt deep, like a prayer lingering in the night air.

  Arman smiled faintly, as if catching the father-figure's message. Mahendra nodded slowly, understanding the weight of the responsibility implied. As they stepped out to the car, the van driver was waiting, standing sternly beside the shiny black vehicle.

  As Van entered his own car, his eyes still followed Arman and Mahendra from a distance. He told the accompanying staff, "Close the car door. Don't bother them. They're not just my friends."

  A staff member hesitated, “But… you mean, they…”

  Van smiled faintly, almost faintly, but confidently. “No, they’re not just friends. They’re my family.” He pressed the door button gently but firmly, ensuring the car was ready to leave the palace grounds undisturbed.

  On the deserted road, Arman glanced sideways at Mahendra with a smile, "Your message earlier... was a bit heavy, yes, but it was clear. We must be careful, but we must also maintain our principles."

  Mahendra replied in a light yet warm tone, “Yes, and it seems like every time we leave this palace, a prayer follows. It brings peace to the heart.”

  Van, now disappearing into the distance in his own car, stared down the same road his friend had just traveled. His heart was at ease knowing that they, though separated tonight, would always carry the responsibility, honor, and values he believed in. That night, the city was quiet, but Van's certainty hung in the air—that those he considered family would always be protected on their mission.

  The night was silent, with only the whirring of the ceiling fan and the sound of Van's prayers slowly permeating the air. After Isha prayers, Van sat cross-legged on the floor of his room, his hands open, his face bowed. His voice was soft but full of sincerity, "O Allah, am I unworthy of this position, while Your people endure pain, endure suffering out there? Help me, Your weak servant, to face them... the corrupt, manipulative, who lie in Your name. Give Your people the strength to recover, and save this country from the hands that want to destroy it."

  The prayers flowed unceasingly, Van's heart completely surrendering itself to the Creator. The room was so silent that even his staff, standing outside the door, barely dared to move. They stood, transfixed, silently witnessing their boss's sincerity.

  A few minutes later, Van looked down for a moment longer before slowly opening his eyes. He took a deep breath, then stood up, straightening his jacket. That's when there was a soft knock on the door. Van smiled faintly, calming himself.

  “Come in,” his voice was calm but firm.

  The staff stepped in carefully and respectfully, “Excuse me, sir… there is a guest downstairs who wants to meet you.”

  Van stared at him for a moment, his eyes conveying calm and authority. “Send them in. Don't wait too long, let them feel our respect and strictness from the start.”

  The staff member nodded and descended the stairs, while Van stared out the window for a moment, his eyes tracing the city lights sparkling in the dark night. He silently prayed again, “O Allah, guide my steps tonight, guide me in making the right decision, for the sake of Your people and Your country.”

  Moments later, the sound of footsteps was heard on the stairs. Van turned to greet Arman and Mahendra. His gaze was soft but firm.

  “Good evening, my friend,” he said, a warm tone filling the room.

  Arman smiled, “Good evening, Mr. Van. Thank you for waiting for us.”

  Mahendra added lightly but respectfully, “Yes, it looks like it will be a long night, but we are ready.”

  Van nodded, his eyes burning with determination. "Okay... tonight we start planning our steps. Every decision, every movement, must be right. For the people, for the country, and for the truth."

  The three men sat in Van's private room, and the evening was filled with strategic discussions, prayers, and passionate determination. Outside the window, the city remained calm, but inside, a fervor was brewing that was poised to change the course of history.

  Arman began, his voice calm but respectful, “Mr. Van, allow me to introduce some of my friends. They are reliable comrades in the military, my best friends since the academy.”

  Van looked at each of them, his eyes sharp yet warm. “Nice to meet you,” he said softly but firmly.

  Arman continued, "This is Reza, Fikri, and Arga. They've been with me through various training sessions and difficult missions. You can trust them."

  Reza stepped forward first and bowed respectfully. “Greetings, Mr. Prime Minister. It’s a pleasure to meet you in person.”

  Fikri smiled faintly, "We are grateful for this opportunity, sir. We are ready to follow directions."

  Arga added lightly, shaking Van's hand, "So this is what you were talking about, huh... your prime minister. Sorry if we sound presumptuous, sir, but Arman and Mahendra do often talk about you."

  Van smiled warmly, his eyes sparkling. “They do tell a lot of stories about me… but not all of them are true,” Van said with a light laugh. Then he looked at the three of them, “You seem tough, disciplined, and reliable. It’s nice to meet young people like you in person.”

  After the warm introduction, Van stood and straightened his jacket. He reached for his phone and glanced at the staff member standing beside him. "Just like you, the military members need energy. Bring food, drinks, and cigarettes to this room for them. And after that, hang up, because I don't want to be disturbed tonight."

  The staff member nodded respectfully, “Yes, sir. I’ll arrange everything right away.”

  Van added with a faint smile, “Make sure everything is in order, and don’t let anyone be late. Tonight is important, let them get comfortable before we start our strategy.”

  The staff bowed respectfully before leaving, leaving Van, Arman, Mahendra, and the three elite troop members in a warm, respectful atmosphere, ready for the evening's important discussions.

  While waiting for the food and drinks to arrive, Van opened his laptop. The screen was connected to a projector, projecting a large image onto the wall. Slowly, a scene of disaster emerged: deforested forests, illegal mines standing in the middle of rivers, pollution obscuring the sky, and residents lying weak with disease.

  Van stared intently at the screen, his voice firm yet full of compassion. "This is the reality of our country. Our people endure pain and suffering every day. The aid we send is always lost... so we must go directly to ensure they receive the maximum amount of assistance."

  Arman furrowed his brows, staring at the screen, "Mr. Van... why do you have to personally come down to provide aid to the people? Aren't there plenty of officers who should be handling this?"

  Van turned and looked at Arman, his tone soft but firm. “That’s the problem, Arman. Our country can’t be completely trusted. All the aid sent always disappears, is stolen, or is misappropriated. The people are waiting, and we can’t let them down. That’s why I’m taking action myself.”

  Fikri looked at Van in surprise. "But, sir, isn't that the other officials' job? They have their own authority and resources…"

  Mahendra, sitting next to Arman, added, "I understand what Mr. Van means. If the people who are supposed to manage it can't be trusted, then someone with a strong commitment like him is the only option. But… still, this is very risky."

  Reza added seriously, "Mr. Van, this means that every step you take in the field must be strictly protected. Not only for your safety, but also to ensure that aid reaches you without hindrance."

  Arga, leaning back in his chair and staring at the projector screen, commented, "So, as the military, we must be ready to support every operation. Not just providing security, but also ensuring that aid distribution runs smoothly?"

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Van nodded, looking at Arman's five men. "That's right. You'll go into the field with me if needed, and you'll learn how aid actually reaches the people. This is reality, and this is why you're trained to act quickly, intelligently, and without compromise."

  Arman took a deep breath and looked at Mahendra, Fikri, Reza, and Arga. "So this isn't just a military mission. It's a humanitarian mission. And we have to make sure there are no loopholes. Everyone, including those responsible for administering aid, could betray the people if we let our guard down."

  Van smiled faintly, pointing to the screen. "That's why this country needs people like you, with high integrity, ability, and the courage to get involved directly. Today we talk about theory, tomorrow we'll ensure real action reaches the people. Every second they wait counts."

  There was a moment of silence. The five elite troops stared intently at the screen, imagining the deforested forests, polluted rivers, and the exhausted faces of the people. Arman then whispered to Mahendra, "We really have to be ready, Ma'am. This isn't a training exercise anymore."

  Mahendra nodded, his eyes fixed on the projector screen, which displayed a small child gazing at the camera with hopeful eyes. “Every action we take matters. There’s no room for error.”

  Fikri, Reza, and Arga exchanged glances, each aware of the burden and responsibility they would face. Van slowly closed his laptop, his face serious but determined. “Tomorrow we begin our movement. Prepare yourselves, because this is no longer a game. This is a real struggle for our people.”

  They discussed strategy for a long time until the clock struck 1 a.m. The palace was quiet, except for the sound of the air conditioner and the occasional ticking of the clock. All the plans were neatly laid out; tasks, distribution routes, and even the priority of certain points in the city had been arranged in as much detail as possible. Van stared at the documents and maps displayed on the table and nodded in satisfaction. He knew tomorrow was a crucial day: all aid would be distributed directly to the people.

  Van closed his laptop and turned to Arman and Mahendra, who were still sitting in their chairs. "We'll be moving tomorrow morning. All the aid has been transferred to the warehouse area, not far from the palace. We must ensure this distribution runs smoothly. There are no gaps whatsoever."

  Arman nodded, his tone firm but relaxed. "All troops are ready, Ma'am. Fikri, Reza, and Arga already know the route and priority points. This is our most concrete mission yet."

  Mahendra added, "We've prepared all the logistics and security measures. Nothing is left untouched. We've even anticipated critical points that could be exploited by criminals."

  The next morning, Van entered the president's office to formally request permission. With firm steps, he stood in front of the president's desk, staring into the head of the nation's leader's face.

  The President looked at Van seriously but warmly. "I have high hopes for you, Van. Together with your friends, I'm sure you'll be able to take my place here someday. The people love you for your sincerity in helping them."

  Van bowed slightly, bowing his head humbly. "You overpraise me, sir. I'm nothing compared to your experience and dedication. But I promise, this assistance will be distributed to the best of my ability."

  The President smiled and patted Van on the shoulder. "Make sure everyone is safe. Don't leave anyone behind. This isn't just a social mission, Van. It's proof that our country still has a conscience."

  Van nodded firmly, "God willing, sir. All aid will reach the right hands. I will also personally oversee this process with my team."

  After saying goodbye, Van descended to the lower level of the palace. The warehouse containing all the aid was ready. The trucks were neatly parked, each package coded for its destination. Van weaved between the vehicles, checking the supplies, ensuring nothing was left behind. He stood for a moment in front of one of the trucks, taking a deep breath, gazing at the aid packages ready to be delivered to the people.

  Meanwhile, Arman and Mahendra arrived at the warehouse, bringing their respective teams. Van smiled faintly and greeted his friend, "Ready? Remember, don't leave anything behind. We're moving today, and all eyes will be on us."

  Arman replied, patting Van on the shoulder, "Don't worry, Van. We've coordinated everything. The team is ready, the route is secure, and everyone knows their duties. All we have to do is execute this mission perfectly."

  Mahendra added in a serious but relaxed tone, "This isn't just an aid distribution mission. We're also ensuring that no third parties take advantage of the situation. Everything will run smoothly."

  Van looked at his two friends, his eyes full of determination. “Okay. Today we prove that this country still has hope. Let’s make sure the people see that someone truly cares. And after this… we prepare for the next storm.”

  The warehouse fell silent for a moment, the only sound being the sound of the car engine and footsteps. Everyone waited for the van's signal to begin their journey. Their eyes were fixed on the road, their hearts filled with determination and enthusiasm, knowing that today was no ordinary relief mission—it would prove their integrity and demonstrate their courage amidst the looming threat.

  Van got into his car, followed by his two friends, Arman and Mahendra, their steps steady but cautious. Van glanced at Arman, "Remember, don't leave anyone behind. The people are waiting, and we must be there for them."

  Arman nodded firmly, “Don’t worry, Van. We’ve coordinated everything.”

  Mahendra added, staring at a tablet screen displaying a map of aid distribution points, "Every route is safe. We'll split up the convoy to ensure speed and efficiency. Fikri, Reza, and Arga will head to other points, so full coordination is essential."

  As their vehicles reached the main intersection, the aid buses began to disperse in an orderly fashion, each heading to its designated destination. Military personnel and elite troops were in each vehicle, their sharp eyes constantly monitoring their surroundings. Each car and bus was equipped with live communications to monitor developments on the ground.

  Upon arrival at their destination, military troops were waiting. Arman, Mahendra, and Van unloaded aid packages from the trucks, ensuring swift and orderly distribution. Arman gave a brief command to his troops, "Stay in position, ready to assist the people. Inspect each package before handing it over."

  Mahendra checked the tablet screen and added, "Make sure the evacuation route is clear. There are no obstructions, and even a single vehicle must be safe. We can't take any risks."

  Van looked around, seeing the people beginning to gather at the distribution point. His eyes glistened for a moment, but he remained firm, "Today we'll prove that someone cares about the people. Don't waste this trust. All eyes are on us."

  A mixture of tension and excitement radiated from the faces of all the troops. From a distance, Fikri, Reza, and Arga began arriving at another distribution point, ready to carry out their duties. All the points had been prepared with perfect coordination—they moved as one, ensuring every aid reached those in need.

  The atmosphere that morning was energetic, yet cautious. Every step, every command, and every action was closely monitored—they knew that the success of this mission wasn't just about logistics, but also about proving that care and discipline could save lives.

  That afternoon, when all the aid had been distributed and the clock struck 4:00 p.m., Van, Arman, and Mahendra led their troops back to the palace. However, at Reza, Fikri, and Arga's point, the three were still at the final distribution point. As they looked up the hillside several kilometers from their position, an old building stood alone, deserted and seemingly abandoned.

  “It looks like it was abandoned a long time ago,” Arga said quietly, his eyes sweeping over the building. “But this… there’s something strange.”

  Fikri leaned forward, his eyes focused on the broken window, and gasped. “This symbol… we’ve seen this before. Could it be connected to the old organization?”

  Reza furrowed his brows. The building looked ordinary from the outside, but the aura it radiated made their hairs stand on end. "There are traces of… dark practices here. The smell of chemicals, old bloodstains… and traces of rituals that should have long since disappeared."

  The three of them moved slowly, each step calculated, disciplined as the elite NoX Aegis troops guided them. Fikri, the most sensitive to dark matters, held his breath and stared into the building. “This… this isn’t just an old building. This place holds dark information, evidence of the cruel practices that once took place here. And these symbols—” he pointed to several on the cracked wall— “ we recognize. These… these belong to them.”

  Reza nodded slowly. "In the past, places like this were always the center of their experiments. You know what went on inside buildings like this… illegal experiments, slavery, and torture. All of that is stored here, and perhaps there are still archives that haven't been destroyed."

  Arga took a deep breath, his hand on his pistol, but he remained composed. “If we go in, we have to be prepared for anything. This is no ordinary mission. The information here could change everything—for our organization, for the country, and for ourselves.”

  Fikri looked at his friends, his face tense but full of determination. "We don't have orders, but as elite troops, this is our duty. We must know what they are hiding here. This may be the key to preventing further darkness."

  The three exchanged glances, then without warning, they advanced into the building. Each step sounded heavy on the dusty floor, but they remained alert, their sharp eyes scanning every corner. As soon as they stepped inside, the damp air and musty odor overwhelmed them. The afternoon light from the broken windows cast long, dancing shadows across the cracked walls, revealing familiar, yet ominous symbols.

  “This… is darker than we ever imagined,” whispered Reza.

  Fikri leaned closer to the dusty table, examining the documents and tools left behind. “Every symbol, every note here… this could be devastating evidence. But we must be extremely careful. One mistake could reveal our position to the enemy.”

  Arga nodded. “Ready. We move slowly, record everything. This isn’t just an ordinary mission—it’s an unearthing of the secrets of a dark past.”

  And as they entered the first room, the building's shadows seemed to come to life, welcoming the three elite soldiers with a mystery they were ready to uncover. This building wasn't just an old place—it was a silent witness to a past atrocity, and now it was waiting for them to uncover it.

  After entering the old building, Reza, Fikri, and Arga began exploring every corner. The atmosphere inside was dark and damp, with only their flashlights penetrating the darkness, reflecting off the dusty walls and traces of past dark activities. The smell of metal and peeling paint enveloped the room, as if the building were holding back its own dark secrets.

  Suddenly, Reza turned around, startled. "Hey, you guys... why didn't you come back to the main point?" he asked, looking at the seven military personnel who had been following behind him.

  One of them, a stern veteran with a cold look in his eyes, replied, “We’re with you. No matter what happens inside this building, we won’t leave you alone.”

  Arga shrugged with a faint smile, "Oh well, let's just stand by for now. We don't know what's waiting inside."

  The three of them continued their ascent to the second floor, climbing the creaking stairs that shattered the silence. Meanwhile, the remaining seven soldiers occupied the lower floor, setting up positions, monitoring every entrance and exit. The tension felt like the air could be cut with a knife.

  On the second floor, Arga found a plastic drive left on a table cluttered with documents and broken electronics. Without hesitation, he plugged it into his tablet, but the screen only displayed a highly encrypted code. He frowned, then smiled faintly. “This… Mahendara can definitely crack this. I’ll keep it for now, it’s important.”

  While they were focused on the plasdisk, Reza's gaze was drawn out the window overlooking the hillside. Something made his heart race. On the hill, four figures stood tall, their silhouettes clearly visible in the twilight. They looked poised, and in each of their hands, something large… a launcher, ready to fire.