The Truth Department loudly declared

"Fill up these vehicles with fuel, let's head back to the beach and see what good stuff we can find there."

——————

The Pig Bay Beach at dawn was no longer an uninhabited zone.

Several four- to five-meter wide piers, constructed from modular materials, extended from the sandy shore far into the sea, connecting at the ends to form a temporary small port.

Hundreds of players disembarked here in Cuba via military technology landing crafts. They eagerly rushed to the beach, and if one ignored the weapons in their hands, one might think they were tourists visiting Cuba.

At the same time, larger floating ships transported batches of vehicles, supplies, and military equipment, unloading at this small port, making the place bustling with activity.

But it wasn't just players arriving at the beach. Gloria, who had been on the run for a whole day and night, also arrived, and even David, attracted by the intense gunfire, found the players and was brought back with them.

"David!"

As soon as Gloria saw the dust-covered David, she rushed over and hugged her son tightly, sobbing uncontrollably.

If it weren't for the locator showing that he was constantly moving, she would have really thought David died in that chaotic battle.

Gloria also noticed David's right hand hanging unnaturally and the signs of a gunshot wound on his shoulder, which immediately pained her heart.

"Oh my God, your hand, you need treatment!"

"Mom."

David's lips were cracked, yet his voice was more mature than ever.

"Give me a combat prosthetic for it. I want to go to the frontline."

"What did you say?"

Gloria thought she misheard, staring at her son in astonishment, feeling a slight unfamiliarity in his expression.

"I said I want to go to the frontline."

David was very determined.

"I want to participate in the liberation of Cuba, not just for the guerrilla fighters who died, but for everyone still suffering."

"No..."

Gloria shook her head. With her authority, she could easily transfer David to a safe position in the rear to gain experience, rather than leaving him on a battlefield in Cuba that was destined to become a bloody mess.

But David's attitude remained unchanged.

"I want to go to the frontline. Even if you send me back to Night City, I'll come to Cuba myself to fight."

"Everyone who came here is here to fight, why can't there be one more of me?"

Gloria wanted to persuade David to abandon this idea, using her hand to touch David's face full of dust and scars, trying to advise him.

"Listen, their deaths are not your fault..."

"I know, Mom..."

David felt the small metal piece on his chest scorching hot, like a branding iron. It was the will of a person, or rather generations of people, passed down to him now.

This wasn't a burden, nor was it pressure, but a legacy.

"I want to go to the frontline."

The same words, like a stubborn mule that couldn't be pulled back.

Gloria closed her eyes in despair.

In fact, she could do everything possible to confine David in Night City, having someone keep a constant watch on him, but as a good mother, she knew doing so would only destroy the image of herself in David's heart and ruin David himself.

"You're my only son."

David retorted,

"Mom... those guerrilla fighters who died the day before yesterday, whose sons were they?"

Gloria turned her head, constantly wiping her eyes, unable to stop the tears from flowing.

Does she regret it?

Perhaps a part of her heart felt a hint of relief.

Gloria wanted David to grow, yet she never imagined it would be here, in this manner.

"It's up to you, come to the operating room later, your wound has started to get infected."

With that, she walked towards the makeshift medical area without looking back, afraid that delaying any longer might lead to regret.

Killer Demon, who had been standing by the side all this time, only dared to speak after Gloria left.

"You've made a remarkable decision, David."

He always felt a guilty conscience, as if he were a kidnapper leading someone's son down a path of no return.

"It's nothing remarkable."

David took out a small metal piece, worn to the point its original shape was almost unrecognizable, from his chest pocket.

"They are the truly remarkable ones."

"What is this?"

Killer Demon's attention was drawn to that small metal piece.

"I don't know. Jose left it for me before he died, saying it was something the previous guerrilla fighters left for him."

David proactively handed the small metal piece to Killer Demon.

Killer Demon weighed it in his hand.

"I'll keep this for now; you go get your surgery."

After David nodded and left, he held it between his fingers, examining it confidently towards the sun.

Although heavily worn, one could vaguely make out the traces of an original medal.

He took a photo of the medal and uploaded it to the official forum, asking for help identifying its origin. Someone soon found its original form and sent it to him on the forum.

At the top of the medal was inscribed in Spanish: "Patria o Muerte" ("Fatherland or Death"), with a design of green rice stalks encircling a white dove and a gun, and below it read "In Commemoration of the Heroes Who Died at the Bay of Pigs" "Vinces Mores Brigade."

Heroes... A hundred years have passed, yet still it is in this place of the Bay of Pigs, how unpredictable the world is.

While Killer Demon pondered this, his fingers felt an incongruous bump on the back of the medal.

He carefully scrutinized it in his hand, vaguely seeing tiny grooves, only about the size of a needle tip, and the distribution of the grooves was extremely regular.