Hmph. I'm still alive. I remember Originium bombs blowing up nearby... Lucky me, I guess. Wall's wet. Looks like some long-abandoned tunnel? How did I get here, though? Wait, is someone there?! Show yourself! Don't move! ...A Zalak? Ha, guess I was rescued by some little girl. She calls herself a battlefield cleaner. Found me on my last legs and dragged me back here. When she saw me wake up, she gave me my stuff back. Weapon, medkit, even my dog tag. Before I could even thank her, she'd already gone to the next guy. Lorenzo? Now that I get a good look, that poor torched bastard is actually Lorenzo. Hey, let go of him, Zalak! He's one of us! Get away from him! He's still alive, goddammit! Can't you see him breathing? He's still trying to survive! I'll save him! Dammit, Lorenzo, why's your body so cold? He's still bleeding— ...... Lorenzo's dead. His wounds were too much, I... I couldn't save him. That Zalak girl brought back another wounded soldier. An enemy. Dammit... They're the ones who killed Lorenzo. I wanna kill the bastard, but it's like that girl is stubbornly blocking me. She told me I could save this one. She wanted me to save him. Ha, this is beastshit. I couldn't save Lorenzo, but I can save an enemy... The girl's heading out again. She's put wheels on her shield; says she can carry more people that way. I hear people snorting and laughing in disdain, and others groaning in pain. I hear explosions above me, and feel dust falling into my eyes. It stings. Right... What was even the point of this battle, where people die every day? ...... Twenty-three. There are now twenty-three people in this hole in the ground, all brought back by that girl. She's far stronger than she looks, considering she could drag all these people back. I feel numb. I inject meds into the injured, dress their wounds, and wait for their breathing to steady and their faces to relax. I just... don't want to see any more pain and suffering. I don't know when it started, but I feel hot all over. I hear the feeble calls of one of the wounded, and I lean over to put my ear up against their mouth— I'm surprised to hear a trembling 'thank you.' I wanted to check his dog tag, but all of a sudden, I can't see anything through the tears. I know that I didn't need to know his identity. I just needed to know that someone survived. That's right. Thanks to her, I lived, and they lived too. We lived. Is there anything more meaningful than that?