The next morning, Khisa walked along the bustling port, the salty breeze brushing against his skin as he watched the workers hauling crates, loading ships, and shouting in half a dozen languages. Despite the chaos, there was a strange beauty to it all — different people, different tribes, banding together to build something greater than themselves.
For the first time in days, Khisa allowed himself a small smile.
I have to do well, he thought, his hands curling into determined fists.
[You need to take a break, Khisa. You're pushing yourself too hard. All this is too much for one person to handle,]
Ayaan's calm, mechanical voice chimed in his mind, tinged with a rare note of concern.
"I know that, Ayaan," Khisa sighed aloud. "But what choice do we have? I'm aware of my shortcomings. Even if I wanted to, I can't save everyone… but I can at least give them a chance to survive."
[It is unfortunate you were reborn in this era. Perhaps in another time, you would have had more fun.]
