Kevin felt a sudden rush of purpose, as though the weight of the room had shifted onto his shoulders, but in a way that lit a fire in his chest rather than crushed him. His eyes gleamed with determination, and he straightened his back.
"Alright," he said, voice steady but charged with energy. "I'll be the one to break through that shield for all of you."
Glain, whose weathered eyes carried the wisdom of years, fixed his gaze on Kevin. There was no smile, only a solemn acknowledgment of trust.
"Very well, Kevin," he said in a deep, steady tone. "You'll be assigned to that role."
He turned his head slowly, his gaze sweeping across the long table and the faces gathered there. Some looked resolved, others uneasy. The faint hum of machinery in the room filled the silence between breaths.
Then Glain spoke again, calm, authoritative, each word carrying the weight of command.
"It seems," he said, pausing as his eyes lingered on each of them in turn, "we're going to be short on people."
