Hope Blocked

This was no longer the orderly residential district they remembered, poor though it had been. Cries, curses, soldiers' shouts, and chaotic footsteps intertwined, forming a suffocating din.

Countless panic-stricken civilians dragged their families along, running and shoving through the narrow, muddy alleys like headless flies. Everyone had only one destination—the road to the port!

Yet the road to hope had long since been blocked.

Squads of Iron Islands garrison soldiers stood at the exits of several main routes, their grim faces and armor spattered with blood. Carrying spears and swords, they had set up sturdy barricades and repeatedly drove back the crowds trying to surge toward the port.

"Go back! Get back inside your homes! Anyone who dares attack the checkpoint will be killed without exception!" the officer roared hoarsely, his voice especially harsh amid the chaos.

From time to time, soldiers smashed down undisciplined civilians who tried to force their way through with the shafts of their spears. Some were left dead on the spot.

The women's sobs, the children's terrified screams, the soldiers' shouts, and the men's roars blended together into a desperate dirge.

Webber's gaze swept over the wounded comrades around him, most of whom had nearly lost the ability to fight.

Tom's arm was wrapped in a blood-soaked cloth strip, Juan's leg was severely injured, and Erich had lost so much blood that he was barely conscious. Webber himself was covered in wounds.

They had shed all their blood for the Iron Islands and fought until the very last moment.

Now that the defensive line had fallen and the evacuation had begun, there was no meaning in these battered soldiers holding out any longer. They would only be throwing their lives away.

"We're leaving." Webber's voice was hoarse but extraordinarily firm. Bracing himself against the wall,