Middle East!
The Middle East is likely the most chaotic region ever witnessed in human history.
Multiple indigenous powers vie for control and interest. Terrorist organizations run rampant, and countless foreign powers are eager to interfere. Ethnic and religious conflicts add further complexity to the region.
A few years ago, the Barmulodi Group entered with overwhelming force—strong capital and military power. Aside from the territories under the Barmulodi Empire, the rest remained chaotic and lawless.
The rise of modern technology made it even easier for nations to compete for hegemony and intervene. The intensity of interest-driven conflict only grew.
Achieving peace here seemed like an unsolvable problem.
On the Naga Highway, a road near the Black Organization's base in Canaan, the scene was desolate and scorching.
The searing weather baked the flat mud-and-sand road, where tank tracks were still clearly visible.
At this blistering noon hour.
A dark brown, army green T-29 heavy tank—long abandoned by the United States—rolled forward, pushing through waves of rising heat.
Hanging from the tank's barrel was a little girl around seven or eight years old, thin and terrified, crying in pain. Her dark skin bore bloody marks from her restraints. The sun beat down on her, the twisted air making her vision blur. She sobbed in fear and pain.
Three irritable Arab men sat atop the tank, AK47s slung from their waists and belts. Their faces were covered in gauze to shield against the blistering sun.
The harsh sunlight made them agitated and uncomfortable. The surface of the tank was scorching, feeding their frustration.
Hearing the girl's continuous sobbing only made them more annoyed.
"Stop!"
"We're here! Hurry up."
Captain Kairaf jumped off the tank, shouting angrily at the driver.
The mission, which he had been assigned personally, already made him irritable. Coupled with the heat and the sweat soaking his body, it became unbearable.
"Move faster..."
Captain Kairaf cursed, his neck thick with rage. The blazing sun fueled his fury.
His subordinates moved quickly.
They set up a DV camera.
They untied the terrified, crying little girl from the barrel and placed her directly in the tank's tread path.
Her eyes were filled with terror, and her cries grew louder.
As the girl cried, Captain Kairaf adjusted the DV camera's angle to capture both her frightened sobs and his own fierce expression.
"Canaan! Your resistance will only bring more misery to your people!"
Captain Kairaf growled at the camera, then fired his AK47 into the sky, venting his rage. Turning cruelly, he ordered, "Start!"
Canaan, a newly formed nation of organizations, was resisting them.
They needed to demonstrate the organization's brutality, to show what happens to those who defy them.
The little girl had been randomly taken from Canaan, a symbol of terror, a warning to others.
The tank treads began to move forward.
The girl, lying beneath the crawler, squirmed in panic, struggling against the sand. But she couldn't escape the path. A small stone had been deliberately placed to prevent her from crawling away.
Under the blazing sun, the air distorted from the heat.
The sound of the treads moving forward was slow and terrifying, pressing down on the weakness of the entire world.
The girl cried out in despair.
Captain Kairaf and his men watched the scene coldly. One of them even laughed when he saw the girl wet herself in fear. He found it amusing.
They stared, waiting for the cruel moment.
The tread reached the little girl's side and began to press down on her clothes. She had nowhere to run and screamed out for her mother in fear.
In the next second, the tread was about to crush her fragile body.
Boom!
A figure slammed into the side of the tank. It struck like an ambush, producing a metallic groan as the tank flipped over with a deafening crash.
Sand and dust flew into the air. In the cloud of dust stood a graceful silhouette, tall and elegant.
The sudden event stunned Kairaf and the others mid-mission.
A 60-ton T-29 heavy tank had been flipped like a turtle in an instant, sending dust flying.
In the next moment,
Kairaf's body trembled. A chill surged from deep within his heart. The AK47 in his hands felt like a block of ice. Even the burning sun couldn't warm him.
This rhythm… this power… filled him with bone-deep terror.
They… they hadn't provoked the Barmulodi Empire, had they?
Kairaf's heart froze as his neck stiffened.
Through the swirling sand, a delicate figure emerged.
Diana had a glowing, healthy complexion. She wore a white office suit, her white blouse highlighting her elegance. A thigh-high slit had torn her skirt, revealing firm, beautiful legs that gleamed under the sun.
She looked like a secretary. Her hair was tied up. She walked through the dusty battlefield, as though crossing time itself, and made her way to the little girl, who was sobbing so hard she couldn't make a sound. Diana bent down and held her tightly, comforting her.
Clap… clap… clap… clap… clap…
A white figure approached from the distance. Under the sun, he walked forward as though stepping out of the ancient, chaotic wilderness.
He was accompanied by applause and admiration.
Diana's heart ached. She hugged the bony girl tightly. Her white blouse had become stained and dirty, but she continued to gently stroke the girl's tangled hair.
"Barmulodi! What are you trying to do?!"
Once the little girl in her arms finally calmed down from her ordeal, Diana's face turned furious. Her beautiful eyes glared at Bardi, who approached while clapping with admiration on his face.
Bardi stopped clapping and admired Diana's current appearance with a faint smile.
"Don't get the wrong idea. I was clapping not for your 'temptation in uniform' or for that beautifully exposed leg through the torn skirt. I was applauding your decision to save that little girl. It was so admirable it moved me. Truly unexpected! And yet... so easy to guess."
Bardi chuckled, sighing softly. He flicked his sleeve, scattering a bit of dust into the air.
He wasn't surprised. He knew Diana had long held back, burning with anger toward him and suspicion over his various plans. At the last moment, she had acted and saved the child.
It was predictable.
Bardi exhaled lightly.
"You…"
"You! What! Do! You! Want! To! Do!"
Diana's eyes flared with fury. Her fists clenched tightly, her skin taut with rage. She glared at Bardi and growled through gritted teeth.
In that moment, she truly wanted to kill him.
After her defeat, she had been taken to an underground lab where her blood was drawn regularly. She endured countless high-tech tests and was nearly dissected. Her internal organs were almost removed for research.
Such a defeat, such an outcome—utterly humiliating.
If not for Queen Hippolyta's intervention, which convinced Bardi that Diana's worth lay in commanding the Amazons and leading them into battle, she would have already been cut open for study.
To make Diana a general under his command, Bardi needed to change her mindset. So, he brought her here to witness the world's suffering.
Bardi glanced at Diana, who was showing a hint of spring through her torn skirt. Her strong, healthy skin radiated beauty and vitality.
This secretary outfit had been Hera's design. Unfortunately, it had been torn upon arrival, which was a bit of a waste.
Still, Bardi was satisfied. Diana's skin exuded energy and resilience. It was a stunning sight.
"Once again, don't misunderstand. I didn't design this scene."
"This… this is the world's suffering. It's happening everywhere, all the time."
Bardi said calmly.
"And I will show you this world clearly. You heroes… can't save it."
(To be continued.)
***
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