On the battlefield, a scene of brutal carnage unfolded. Armored soldiers lay strewn across the desolate landscape, their lifeless bodies bearing witness to the merciless conflict.
The air was heavy with the metallic scent of blood, mingling with the acrid smoke rising from the charred earth.
The once-blue sky now glowed a haunting shade of crimson, reflecting the violence that had stained the very heavens.
Scattered amidst the chaos were abandoned weapons, their blades glinting dully in the fading light. Thousands of Katana and Naginata, once held with purpose and skill, now lay discarded, abandoned by their fallen masters.
A young boy with silver hair perched upon a decaying corpse. A worn, weathered Katana rested at his side, a testament to the harsh realities he faced.
He was eating a leftover stale rice ball that the corpse once carried with him for lunch, yet abandoned by its deceased owner.
