Greg motions sharply with one hand, signaling for us to fan out and approach the crumbling outpost structures with utmost caution. I give a tight nod of acknowledgment and start edging forward, rifle held at the ready while my eyes constantly scan our surroundings for any signs of movement or potential ambush.
The eerie silence is suffocating, pressing in on us like a physical weight as we creep ever closer to the looming ruin ahead. Even the usual distant rumbles of artillery barrages seem muted, as if the entire desolate landscape is holding its breath in anticipation of the confrontation to come.
I risk a quick glance toward Greg, finding his expression a mask of grim focus, all hints of his usual roguish irreverence banished by the gravity of our mission. Zander too is all coiled ten
