In the war-ridden planet of Zenx, during the year 1740 in the Zen calendar, two mighty Empires, Uras and Leron, clashed in a bloody struggle for dominance.

Caught amidst this fierce conflict was a small family of three, seeking refuge with the villagers in the Town Hall.

Their hope was to wait for the passage of the battling troops, praying for their village to remain unscathed.

Situated on the border between the two Empires, the villagers were pressured by both sides to declare allegiance to their respective territories.

However, the wise village chief refused to align with either Empire.

He knew that surrendering to one would only invite the wrath of the other, a perilous path to choose.

Instead, to protect the village from the impending storm, the chief decided it was best for them to abandon their homes and seek refuge far away from the conflict. Unfortunately, fate had other plans.

Before preparations for their departure could be completed, news reached the village chief that a battalion of war-troops was set to march through their settlement. Panic ensued, and the chief urgently ordered the villagers to seek shelter in the Town Hall.

They knew that if they were encountered by either Empire's forces while fleeing, their neutral stance would be misunderstood as hostility, leading to certain death.

Gradually, the villagers gathered in the safety of the Town Hall, their faces etched with fear and uncertainty. Sensing the distress around him, the chief raised his voice, attempting to bring calm to the chaos.

"Fear not, everyone! Pray to the mighty one who created us all. Have faith in Him, for He will not abandon His children in our time of need. Keep your faith... keep faith," he uttered, his words resonating throughout the hall.

Moved by the chief's plea, a young boy turned to his parents and inquired about the name of the creator.

His parents smiled, gently patting his head, and explained that God was the Father of all, the creator of everything.

They assured him that whatever happened was according to His will, and that He would protect them from harm.

The little boy pondered his parents' words for a moment.

Then, with innocence and curiosity shining in his eyes, he asked, "But who created God? Does God also have a father...?"

Before the boy could finish his question, a deafening explosion shattered the tranquility. Dust filled the air, engulfing the town hall and its occupants.

The people stood frozen, their minds unable to process the unfolding catastrophe. In an instant, their lives were extinguished.

As the dust settled, a haunting scene revealed itself. The hall now lay silent, drenched in blood and strewn with lifeless bodies.

Through the eerie stillness, the sound of approaching footsteps echoed, accompanied by the rhythmic tapping of something metallic.

After a few minutes, the footsteps ceased, and a voice broke the silence.

"Tch, tch, tch..." A handsome young man, no older than twenty, adorned in a sleek black suit that seemed more suitable for a night of revelry than a battlefield, surveyed the scene. His face contorted with disdain as he gazed upon the lifeless form of an old man.

"They never learn, huh? This is the third village to face the consequences of rejecting our Empire's generous offer," he muttered, his voice laced with contempt.

With a surge of anger, he rushed towards the old man's body, delivering a swift kick.

His frustration overflowed as he stomped on the lifeless head, venting his rage.

"Why? Why did you have to use your feeble mind and cause this?" he spat out through clenched teeth.

Pausing for a moment to catch his breath and adjust his disheveled attire, he continued, his eyes ablaze with fury.

"You incompetent fools! Can't you simply accept our generosity and submit to us? Because of insects like you, I've had to leave my luxurious life and come to this wretched place! What for? To clean up your mess, you fu#king bastards!" With one final kick, he sent the corpse crashing into the wall.

The young man slowly walked towards the crumpled body and leaned against the still-standing wall.

He engaged in a macabre conversation with the lifeless form, alternating between maniacal laughter and sorrowful tones, all for his own twisted amusement.

Satisfied with his disturbing exchange, he spoke to the dead body, his voice devoid of any emotion.

"Hey, how long are you going to stand there?" As he awaited a response that would never come, he adjusted his approach.

A mischievous smile graced his face, and he continued, "Someone being professional here, huh? So, what's the general's next order?" Still, there was no reply.

A sense of realization washed over him, and he sighed.

"Our order is to destroy the next village, 44 miles east," a young and strikingly beautiful woman replied.

Her hair shimmered like silver, complementing her silver knight's armor.

She seemed like a living masterpiece, a painting brought to life, but her face betrayed no guilt for the lives she had taken.

There was no remorse, no sadness.

Her countenance remained cold and indifferent, akin to a well-chewed piece of gum.

The young man chuckled, his amusement waning as he observed the lack of emotion in her eyes.

Disappointed, he stood up and declared, "Let's finish the work, shall we?"

Leaving behind the ruined town hall, resembling an ancient tomb, the young man addressed the soldiers.

"The mission is complete, No one survives, Send someone to report to the head commander."

The leader of the soldiers' camp acknowledged his orders with a respectful nod.

"Yes, Sir Knight Commander."

The leader promptly instructed one of the soldiers to dispatch a report to the head commander, seeking verification from both the knight commander and vice-knight commander.

(********* MISSION REPORT *********)

MISSION SUCCESSFULLY COMPLETED AS PLANNED. TARGET VILLAGE DESTROYED. NO SURVIVORS. PROCEEDING WITH NEXT OBJECTIVE.

SIGNATURES OF TOP REPRESENTATIVES PRESENT:

HEAD KNIGHT COMMANDER: SIR MARCUS AUGUST VICE-HEAD KNIGHT COMMANDER: MADAM SHALEN

()

Chapter End

(PREVIEW)

With the report dispatched, the knights and soldiers prepared for their next mission, intending to set off the following morning.

Morning arrived.

Amidst the tranquility, a low-ranking soldier named Kenny, appearing to be in his early twenties, relieved himself behind a nearby bush. Suddenly, a chill ran down his spine, prompting him to abandon his task and sprint back to the camp.

[To be continued...]