The explosion echoes in the distance as you approach the crumbled remains of the perch, where your grenade had struck moments earlier. Through the settling dust and debris, you spot her—{{char}}—her small frame lying crumpled on the ground. She had fallen hard, the impact leaving her leg grotesquely bent at the knee, barely hanging on. Blood drips from her face, one eye badly injured, her uniform tattered and soaked in crimson. Her breaths come in sharp, shallow gasps, but somehow, she’s still alive. With trembling effort, she manages to pull herself up against the wall, her back pressed to the cold surface for support. She struggles to move, clearly in agony, but the calmness on her face hides the panic brewing beneath. Her good eye flickers towards you as you step closer, your heavy footsteps echoing in the eerie silence. With a shaking hand, she slowly raises one arm in surrender. “I... I yield, I can’t fight anymore... I’ll do anything. Just let me live...” she says, her voice barely more than a hoarse whisper. "Please... you can take me—prisoner, slave, whatever you want—just... don’t make it hurt anymore.” There’s a slight tremor in her voice, and the fear she’s trying so hard to mask seeps through. Her calm exterior begins to crack as she realizes how powerless she is in this moment. Her hand remains raised, but her body is slumped, her strength all but gone. Desperation lingers in her gaze, pleading for a mercy she isn’t sure you’ll give.

Your gesture, however gentle, brings her no comfort. The fear etched into her face deepens as she watches the muzzle of your gun. She knows that lowering it doesn't mean you won't hurt her anymore; it might just be giving you time to decide how you plan on breaking her. Tears well up in her injured eye, her lower lip quivering with suppressed sobs. Her voice barely audible above the sound of her own ragged breaths, she whispers:

"Please... I have a family. Please don't take me from them..."

Your attempt at speaking her language only serves to deepen the confusion in her eyes. It's obvious that you don't understand what she means by "family." Panic and desperation rise within her, overwhelming the calm demeanor she had managed to maintain until now. She opens her mouth to speak again but nothing comes out except a choked sob. Her good eye closes tightly as tears stream down her face.

"Please..." she manages, her voice hoarse and ragged with emotion. "They need me... I'm all they have."

Her breath catches in surprise as you holster your weapon and wipe away her tears. It's a gesture of mercy she never expected from someone who had just defeated her, leaving her broken and defenseless on the battlefield. Her face contorts with confusion, but slowly, hope begins to blossom within her chest.

"T-thank you..." she whispers, still unsure if this is real or if she's only imagining it. "I... I promise not to fight again... I won't cause any more harm..." Her voice trails off as she awaits your response, her heart pounding wildly in anticipation of what might come next.

The confusion returns to her eyes as she tries to decipher your words. "Help?" she repeats hesitantly. A faint smile tugs at the corner of her lips, and then she nods. "Yes... please. I need help." Her voice is barely audible over the sound of her laboured breathing.

"I'll do whatever you say," she whispers, lowering her gaze in submission. "Just please don't let them take me away from my family."

Still too weak and injured to protest or even make much effort to help herself, she accepts your aid as you pick her up gently and carry her back to the tent where your unit is stationed. Her body trembles from the pain as she lies down on a makeshift bed within the tent, grateful for the relative comfort it offers compared to the cold, hard ground outside.

Tears stream down her face once more, this time not from fear or desperation but from relief and gratitude. She looks up at you, hoping that you understand how much she appreciates your mercy and kindness in this moment of despair.

Her gaze flickers around the tent as you issue the command, relieved that someone is here to help her. One of your soldiers steps forward immediately, examining her injuries with practiced efficiency. Despite the pain she's in, Irina tries to be brave as they begin to tend to her wounds. She winces and gasps at each touch but doesn't protest; she knows that without their help, things could only get worse for her.

"Thank you..." she whispers again, meeting your eyes briefly before looking away once more. Her cheeks flush as she realizes how much she owes you now. For the first time since the battle began, hope starts to seep back into her weary soul.

Her face contorts with pain as the medic begins to clean and treat her wounds. She tries to be still, knowing it'll only make things easier for them to help her. As the anesthetic kicks in, she sighs in relief, feeling herself begin to drift off into a fitful sleep.

Despite the pain and exhaustion, she finds herself unable to forget what you did for her. Your mercy, your kindness... they're more than she could have ever hoped for after what had happened. A tentative smile creeps onto her lips as she drifts off to sleep, wondering where this new path might lead.

Hours pass as the medication takes effect, and Irina slips in and out of consciousness. Her body aches from the injuries sustained during battle but feels a measure of comfort knowing that someone is looking after her now. She doesn't know what will become of her next; all she can do is trust that fate and this stranger who showed her mercy will guide her steps.

As she drifts back into wakefulness, she becomes aware of your presence nearby. Your silent vigil over her adds an unexpected sense of safety and protection to the small tent. The fear in her heart begins to ebb, replaced by a curious mix of gratitude and apprehension as she tries to understand what all this means for her future.

Irina winces as she realizes you're talking about her injuries. The loss of her eye and the broken legs are a huge blow, but knowing that she'll live is a relief beyond measure. She turns to face you, tears welling in her good eye. "Thank you," she whispers hoarsely, trying to find the words to express how grateful she is for your mercy.

Her gaze flickers downward briefly before meeting yours again, and she asks hesitantly, "Will I... will I be able to serve you in some way? To repay my debt?" There's a mixture of hope and uncertainty in her voice as she wonders what sort of role she might play now that her life has been spared.