Solitude is the echo of our soul praying for the harmony of connection.
In the vast expanse of the human mind, there lies a field, silent and still, stretching infinitely beneath a vast and colorless sky. In this emptiness lies a profound solitude, where the only company is the whisper of the breeze dancing aimlessly through the desolate landscape.
In this soundless dream, there are no birdsongs or rustling leaves, nor a distant hum of life. Only the soft sweep of grass underfoot breaks the silence. The horizon stretches on, uninterrupted and unyielding, with only one recognizable feature: its darkness.
Sometimes rain falls in reverse, rising towards the sky instead of descending to the ground. Other times, soundless rivers can be glimpsed, where water flows backward, ascending towards hidden springs nestled among the folds of the terrain. Still other times, from afar, mountains emerge rising from the clouds, with peaks so high they brush against the ground.
Few can enter this space while alive; usually, when one dies, they enter this limbo, where the brain seeks to make its end as emotionally painless as possible.
Here, many questions are asked. The most common is this: Are living beings equal to each other?
A righteous society constantly fights for equality, loudly proclaiming parity between men and women, creating a world where gender differences are set aside in the name of presumed equity. But can we truly ignore the natural differences that exist between individuals? The biological, physical, and psychological diversities that characterize each of us cannot simply be erased by decree or law. Women are different from men, just as disabled people are different from those who are not. This does not mean that one category is "better" or "worse" than the other; it simply means recognizing the reality of human diversity. The concept of equality may be fascinating and seductive, but upon closer examination, it reveals itself as a chimera. Each individual is a universe unto themselves, a unique interweaving of experiences, thoughts, and feelings that make them singular and irreplaceable. The notion that everyone should be treated exactly the same is an oversimplification of the complexity of human life.
Contrary to what we are taught, we have not all been created equal. We are different.
Living beings, including humans and animals, are not equal, and there is no need for euphemisms to explain why. Reality is raw and unadorned. Sure, we can share some basic characteristics: we breathe, eat, sleep. But beyond that, the differences become more evident. Humans have the ability to think abstractly, reflect on the past, and plan for the future. Animals may be guided by instinct or learning, but their understanding of the world does not reach the complex level of humanity.
Then there are the physical differences. Some have feathers, others fur, we have skin. Some walk on two legs, others on four. And let's not forget about the psychological differences. Some may be calm and reflective, others impulsive and aggressive. These differences are inherent in our biology and our living environment. Humans can control these mental differences; animals cannot.
When we talk about equality among living beings, we're talking about a fantasy. It's like trying to put an elephant and a hummingbird on the same plane. They're both wonderful creatures, but there's no way to put them on an equal footing. Just recognizing and accepting the differences without judgment or prejudice is enough.
Kyoudai is lying on the ground, his body tired and unable to move from exhaustion. He can enter this space of the human mind as much and as often as he wants. A human who cannot embrace the essence of life might as well find himself in the grip of death's embrace after all. His gaze is fixed on the vast sky, but his mind refuses the weight of reflection; perhaps laziness has the upper hand over deeper contemplation. As the world around him collapses like an earthquake, only soundlessly, he gradually returns to reality.
He wakes up in his straw bed in his hut.
Kyoudai is wearing a long grey coat, with silk trousers and high leather boots. Under her coat he has an old silk mesh full of little holes and cuts.
Kyoudai's hut is a simple structure, built of hard wood and straw. The entrance is unobtrusive, with a simple pitted wooden door that opens to the inside.
Inside, the hut is neatly furnished. In one corner are two straw beds, one where Kyoudai sleeps, and the other where his brother, Shinohebi, sleeps, adorned with a few woollen blankets for warmth. A small wooden table occupies the centre of the room, with various objects scattered on its surface, including mugs of the same wood and cutlery of various kinds.
With a stretch and a yawn, he sits up on his futon, then, picks up the small bowl of water resting on the wooden table nearby, its surface reflecting the soft morning light filtering through the window. He mirrors herself in the water as he sighs and then begins to bathe his face.
After having done that, he steps outside the hut.
The Grunland plain stretches like a sea of lush green, an endless expanse of meadows and forests silhouetted against the endless sky. The Grunland was not always so lush. In ancient times, it was an arid wasteland, where life struggled to take root among the rocks and sand. Most wars were fought there because of the lack of stability of the kingdom of Alchstadt. The soil is permeable, composed of sand and gravel, however, and cannot retain rainwater, at least in the more central areas. It is said that this is because of the numerous carcasses of fallen warriors on the plain and so their metal scraps of weapons and armour. The water that manages to creep in penetrates tens of metres below the surface, until it encounters a layer of impermeable material. On the impermeable rocks, the water flows to the point where it has the possibility of resurfacing in the Nablocher, giving rise to the deepest waters in the entire kingdom. These springs, thanks to the constant temperature, have allowed fertility to spread in the areas concerned with special grassland cultivation. The perfect land for a farmer like him. The farmer village itself is a quaint settlement of wooden huts scattered amidst fields of soil. The huts are constructed from timber and thatched roofs. Smoke gently rises from chimneys, mingling with the fresh air. In the central square, villagers gather to trade goods.
This was a peculiar world and kingdom indeed.
In comparison with the 40 Supreme Kingdoms, the Gipfel had been the only one with the manifestation and embodiment of as many as 2 primordial Beasts.
Primordial Beasts are creatures with Divine status, that are often depicted as existing before the dawn of time or in the deepest recesses of the world. They are typically portrayed as embodiments of primal forces or aspects of nature, possessing infinte strength, wisdom, and control over the forces they embody and rappresent. One of these Beasts then, was even the reason why the Norskans, also more vulgarly known as Giants, were exterminated at Hochstand, failing to rebuild what became known in the past, as the Northern Empire.
As a child, Kyoudai's gaze often turned towards the warriors of the Haupstad Empire, who marched proudly across the plain. Their armour shone in the sunlight, their swords held high as symbols of strength and honour. Since childhood, he had dreamed of joining their ranks, of becoming a warrior like those he admired. Unfortunately, he had not been born into the privileged ranks of Haupstadian society, nor did he possess the means to enrol in the prestigious warrior training programmes.
His brother Shinohebi interrupted Kyoudai's dream by patting him on the shoulder and looking at the horizon with him.
At 18 years old, Shinohebi possesses a striking presence, with his long, sun-kissed blonde hair who cascades in waves down his broad shoulders. He posseses piercing green eyes, like emeralds. Tall and statuesque, Shinohebi stands head and shoulders above his peers, at a height of 194cm, if we consider the unit measures of the Antike Epoque. Dressed similarly to his brother, Kyoudai, Shinohebi's has a worn and weathered shirt, with his trousers, patched and faded from countless hours spent in the fields.
<Good morning, brat, slept well? Since you woke up so late at this point you'd better take my share of the ground today, you're much more rested than me after all!>
Said Shinohebi with a sarcastic smile.
Kyoudai replies, returning his brother's smile with a yawn.
Shinohebi had never wanted a younger brother to take care of, but his parents had thought that more people in the family meant less work and therefore more money. He felt rather limited in having to take care of him, but with time he had learned to love him. Kyoudai, on the other hand, had always been a separate entity, with his head in the clouds and no desire to do anything, not even the simplest things like waking up early in the morning. The dream of becoming a swordsman was simply a dream, after all it would have been too exhausting. He simply wanted to be left alone, in his own world, in nothingness, but that changed when he was with his brother.
Shinohebi spent his life more like a father figure to Kyoudai, giving him the compassion his father never had, constantly motivating him to become better. Shinohebi and Kyoudai themselves were born gifted, one was a genius and physically gifted with extraordinary agility, the other one with extraordinary physical strenght. He was a complicated and reclusive individual who did not get along well with anyone except his brother. Although he received much praise and attention from others because of his achievements, no one understood him like Kyoudai did. In return, Kyoudai respected and idolised his older brother, striving to become as smart and amazing as him.
"Ugh... Can't we just take a break today? I'm feeling so tired. It's so hot here outside. I dont want to be here, my arms hurt, I slept badly despite everything... Im hungry... I want to eat steak... why dont we have steak here...?"
Kyoudai thinks to himself as he hoes the soil listlessly, looking practically like a dead man walking.
Said an old farmer close to him.
The old man approaches to slap Kyoudai for his insolence, but the boy grabs his arm, pulling him towards himself, and then lifts the old man with his other arm and throws him behind him. As the old man lands with a thud, a wave of commotion erupts across the farm. Voices rise in indignation, Kyoudai finds himself at the center of the storm, his heart pounding in his chest as accusations fly from all directions.
One of the other farmers bellows.
Another adds, helping the old man to get off the ground.
One of them scoffs.
Shinohebi takes an expression which is mix of concern and bewilderment as he approaches the scene. He just returned from the hut to change his sweaty clothes and rest a bit.
In truth, it wasn't the first time Kyoudai had lashed out like this in anger, his impulsive nature often getting the better of him in moments of frustration. But each time, Shinohebi had been there to intervene, to smooth things over and prevent the situation from escalating further.
Shinohebi's eyes meet Kyoudai's, a silent plea for understanding passing between them as he gently takes his brother by the arm, leading him away from the escalating conflict.
With a reassuring squeeze, he guides Kyoudai to their hut, shutting the door tightly but slowly at the same time.
He says as he punches a clean hole in the wood wall of the hut, without even flinching.
He screams.
Shinohebi says as he kneels down towards his brother and pats his shoulder, while smiling warmly.
Kyoudai screams as he slaps away his brother's hand.
Kyoudai starts to get teary eyes as he hugs his brother tightly while crying.
He approaches Kyoudai, gently hugging him slowly.
Kyoudai and Shinohebi come from a lineage steeped in resistance and rebellion. Their parents, are Hassers. Staunch opponents of the dragons and of their blood pact with humans, dedicated their lives to fighting against them. Forced to labor from a young age to fuel the war economically, the two brothers were seen as little more than tools to be used in service of the resistance. They found themselves drawn into the conflict as their parents had intended, fighting in minor battles involving raids on villages on Loveberg.
Once there was a large group of men and dragons at the top of the world, in what is now called Mount Loveberg, (Loveberg after the name of the city built). The city built by the cooperation of these races. mostly on the central plateau, which provides excellent defense against outsiders.
Long ago, Guardian Dragons protected the Worlds. All creatures, except dragons and humans, were born of primordial darkness and were naturally endowed with an independent mind and a desire to protect life. Dragons, however, through an uncommon symbiosis between two or more beings and their exchange of knowledge and life force, became intelligent, initiating the Gipfel Wars of appeasement after the incarnation of the First Beast, or the Heilig Wars. They then encountered the humans, the date on which the years begin to count (year 0 is considered to have begun at the time the Dragons encountered the humans, we are now at the year 638) who had taken refuge in the sky by climbing Mount Loveberg, to escape the Wars, ending up decimated are in the climb. They then allied with the Dragons, signing a Blood Pact, which would be their sign of alliance for generations to come, all of this to try to re-create a Pacific world. But there were those who disagreed with this alliance, the Hassers. They argued that allying with the Dragons, would only lead to their potential being imprisoned, then becoming subservient to the Dragons. Thus began the first civil wars on the Mount in the year 14, after the creation of Loveberg, which was, what is known as "the straw that broke the camel's back."