The operation was now in motion. Snipers were already in position, nestled in the surrounding buildings, approximately 300 meters from the plaza, ready to provide vital cover for the main rescue team. Meanwhile, the military personnel moved with silent precision, systematically neutralizing isolated bandit lookouts scattered around the school grounds. One by one, the perimeter was secured, until the only remaining bandits were those confined to the plaza, guarding the terrified hostages.
With the scattered threats eliminated, the main phase of the operation commenced. Shinta emerged into the plaza, appearing utterly terrified, to the point of wetting himself. The rebels erupted in raucous laughter, their taunts echoing through the tense air, mocking him as a "scaredy brat" who had soiled himself. As their jeers continued, Shinta, still clutching his phone, activated a hidden smoke device in his hand. A thick, acrid cloud of smoke immediately began to engulf him. Realizing the deception, the bandits unleashed a torrent of gunfire, emptying their magazines in a desperate, blind rage. Two of them even fired rockets, culminating in a deafening, massive explosion that rocked the campus.
The blast was witnessed by the remaining students hiding in the back, who could only discern that the figure engulfed was a boy in a school uniform. A wave of collective worry swept through them for their schoolmate. Yura, however, was consumed by a singular, gnawing anxiety for Shinta, wishing desperately for his safety, and showing no interest in the anonymous boy who had seemingly sacrificed himself trying to call for help.
As the rebels frantically reloaded their weapons, the rescue team burst into the plaza, weapons locked onto their targets. One bandit, quick to react, pulled a pistol and grabbed a hostage, threatening to execute them if the rescuers advanced. But before he could act, the bandit's hand suddenly burst in a spray of blood, sending the pistol flying. A sniper had taken him down.
"We have seven men here and three snipers covering you from afar – a total of ten," a soldier's voice cut through the tension, cold and unwavering. "Enough to put a bullet in each of your heads if you even think about reloading." One rebel smirked defiantly. "We have more than ten here," he boasted. The soldier's cold reply wiped the smirk from his face: "Try to call for them. We already took care of your scattered scouts across the campus." The rebel fell silent, his bravado shattered.
Yura, her gaze fixed on the ground, clutched a bracelet she had given to Shinta. As soldiers began to secure the captured rebels, her eyes drifted to the lingering smoke from the explosion. A sudden, desperate resolve seized her. She stood up and began to walk towards the epicenter of the blast. "Yura? Where are you going? Wait!" her friend called out, but Yura kept moving, heedless. A soldier moved to intercept her, but his comrade stopped him with a quiet word: "Let her go. It's... her." Yura's friend followed, concern etched on her face. Amidst the debris and acrid air, Yura's hand brushed against a charred piece of cloth. She picked it up, her fingers tracing the name tag: 'Batsa.' The realization hit her like a physical blow. The bracelet she had given Shinta, now lying mangled nearby, confirmed her worst fears. She was engulfed by despair.
Tears streamed down her face as she crumpled to her knees, her body unresponsive. Her friend, still coughing from the smoke, noticed Yura's collapse. Rushing to her side, she frantically asked what happened, but Yura remained silent, her face blank, as if her mind had simply shut down from the shock.
A woman burst into the room, her face has a mixture of worry, but it was change into excitement, and a faint blush. "Si... Sir, what is the meaning of this?" she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper.