Three days had passed since my troops arrived at Celestine's base.
It took that long to bring this place back to life—not just functionally, but psychologically. Soldiers, engineers, even the rescued children gradually began to get used to the presence of the Witches and Hunters. They were no longer just "smart zombies," but were now seen as colleagues—even protectors.
Celestine did her part extraordinarily well. She personally walked the grounds, spoke with every group, and explained that my subordinates were under my control and posed no threat. Slowly, fear turned into respect—or at least tolerance.
The third day, in the morning.
I stood on the main balcony of the base, enjoying the breeze while watching the sun rise behind the ruins of crumbled buildings. Beside me, Celestine joined with two cups of hot tea. Its aroma was soothing, calming.
"It's time, isn't it?" she asked softly.
