Reincarnated with the Country System-Chapter 176: A New Hope from the Sky

A group of survivors walked slowly toward the horizon, their clothes ragged, their faces tired, their eyes hollow with loss. Among them was Aiden, a young man in his late twenties, leading the way. His clothes were no better than the others, torn and stained with the remnants of his home. Beside him, his younger sister Lara stumbled, clutching his arm for support. She had been barely able to keep up after the days of walking, her small frame weakened by hunger and exhaustion.

"How much further, Brother?" Lara asked, her voice hoarse from thirst.

Aiden glanced at the distant silhouette of the city of Rookhaven. It was the only place they could hope to find shelter, and the only place where they might find some semblance of hope. "Not much further, Lara. We'll get there soon."

But even as he said those words, he knew how uncertain that future was.

Aiden had seen the destruction with his own eyes, and though he told himself he must keep going for Lara's sake, doubt gnawed at him. Would the city be a safe refuge, or would it too be overwhelmed by the ravages of war?

Ahead of them, the group trudged on—old men, women with children, and others who had been left behind by the chaos. They had no resources left. Their homes were gone, their livelihoods stolen, and their hope was now barely a flicker. But they kept walking, as if by sheer will they might find some semblance of safety.

........

High above them, in the clear sky that seemed so distant from the suffering below, a group of aircraft belonging to the Bernard Empire soared.

This aircraft, were designed for efficiency in warfare, but today, they carried no bombs or weapons of destruction. Instead, they were tasked with something far more important: delivering aid to those who had lost everything.

Inside the lead aircraft, Lieutenant Colonel Adrian Westbrook stood at the command console, his sharp eyes scanning the landscape below. The dim light inside the cockpit was a stark contrast to the bright blue sky outside, and the hum of the engines filled the space as he spoke into the microphone.

"All units, prepare for deployment. We've got survivors below— These areas are in desperate need of help. I don't have to tell you how crucial this mission is. Let's make sure we do it right."

A chorus of affirmatives echoed through the comms system as the rest of the crew prepared. The mission was a delicate one, not just because of the precariousness of the situation on the ground, but because of the challenges of delivering aid to people caught in the crossfire of a brutal war.

Lieutenant Westbrook turned to his second-in-command, Captain Verne, who was monitoring the distribution system on the aircraft. "Everything ready?"

"Yes, sir," she replied. "We've got enough supplies to make a difference. Water purification tablets, rations, blankets, and clothing. We'll make sure it all gets to the right place."

Westbrook nodded, his gaze now fixed on the terrain below. He could see the destroyed villages, the charred fields, and the figures moving through the desolate landscape. "Look at them," he muttered. "They don't know we're coming. Let's make sure they have something to hold on to."

Captain Verne handed him a set of maps, highlighting the locations where the survivors were likely to be. "The northernmost group is making their way toward Rookhaven and Fam. The military already sent supply to the Fam. So we'll need to drop supplies there first, then proceed to the others."

"Agreed," Westbrook said. "Let's get this done."

The aircraft began to descend, the rumble of the engines vibrating through the crew's bodies as they neared their target zone.

This was no ordinary airdrop. This was the last hope for many of these people.

"Prepare to deploy," Captain Verne called out. She was calm, but there was a sharpness to her words that indicated the seriousness of the task ahead.

The crew worked quickly. Supplies were loaded into the aircraft's cargo bay, each item packed carefully. Ration packs, cans of food, dried staples like rice and beans, all sealed in durable, weather-resistant packaging.

"Stand by for release," Westbrook announced. His voice was firm, but there was a softness to it as he looked at the faces of the crew around him. They were all in this together.

A soft beep filled the cabin as the countdown began. It was time.

The rear ramp of the aircraft lowered with a mechanical whir, and the first crates of supplies were pushed out into the open sky. The crates dropped like heavy raindrops, their parachutes unfurling as they plummeted toward the ground below. Each one carried with it the promise of survival.

On the ground, Aiden and the others had just crossed into the outskirts of the city when they heard a deafening, unnatural roar above them. A deep, monstrous sound unlike anything they had ever known.

The entire group froze.

They looked up in confusion, their breath caught in their throats as they squinted at the sky.

And what they saw struck terror into their very bones.

Dark, winged creatures—larger than any beast they had ever seen—glided through the heavens, their bodies of iron, their wings not of feathers but of something else, something unnatural. The sun glinted off their metal skins, their voices rumbled like thunder.

"Lords above, what are those?" an old man gasped, falling to his knees.

"A great omen..." a woman whispered, clutching her child.

Aiden's heart pounded in his chest. "No… wait. Look!"

One of the creatures had just released something—many things—falling from its belly. They were not weapons. They were not fireballs of destruction. They were… bundles, wrapped in cloth, gliding down on strange white wings.

Aiden watched in astonishment as one of the bundles landed softly, not far from them. He hesitated, his instincts screaming at him to run, but something deeper within urged him forward.

With shaking hands, he stepped toward the fallen object, his breath shallow. He reached out, gripping the rough wooden surface, and slowly pried it open.

Inside were sacks of food, wrapped in thick cloth, cans sealed with strange markings, and—something even stranger—sheets of parchment, covered in drawings.

He picked one up. The words were foreign, but the pictures were clear.

Food. How to open it. How to cook it.

Water. How to clean it.

Shelter. How to build it.

His mind reeled. "It's… it's food!" he shouted, turning back to the others. "It's help!"

Lara's eyes widened, disbelieving. "But… who sent it?"

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Aiden eyes wide. "Maybe Gods. Yeah… we are not alone. Haven sent their help!"