Livik paced the room, his brow furrowed in deep concern. The map sprawled out on the table before him was cluttered with markers and notes, a testament to the gravity of the situation. Each marker represented a critical point—troop movements, supply depots, and potential targets. Livik moved with a restless energy, his steps echoing the turmoil within his mind. The air was thick with tension, and his eyes darted across the map, trying to piece together the fragmented picture of the impending threat.
Xedeth, standing beside him, leaned over the map with a sense of purpose. His finger traced various routes and locations, the weight of their predicament evident in his posture. His face was a portrait of grim determination, etched with lines of worry and weariness. The lines of the map seemed to blur together in his vision, a reminder of the precarious situation they faced.
"Our spy's information is clear," Livik said, his voice heavy. "Nefaria is preparing for an attack. They've begun amassing troops and gathering resources. Their intentions are as ominous as the darkening sky before a storm, their preparations cloaked in secrecy and menace."
Xedeth sighed deeply, a sound that seemed to carry the weight of countless battles. His eyes, weary and shadowed, conveyed the depth of his frustration and sorrow. "Peace with the humans feels like a distant dream, ever elusive. Every time we believe we're on the brink of harmony, conflict rears its ugly head. The notion of a lasting peace seems as though it's forever beyond our grasp, taunting us with its impossibility, like a mirage that disappears as we draw nearer."
Livik nodded solemnly, his face reflecting the gravity of the situation. "Indeed, the path to peace seems fraught with obstacles. It appears that the best defense is to strike preemptively. We cannot afford to wait idly for them to come knocking on our gates. We must take the initiative and disrupt their plans before they can encroach upon our borders."
Xedeth rubbed his temples, the gesture betraying his inner turmoil. "We find ourselves in a precarious position. Direct confrontation is not feasible. Our strength is insufficient for a full-scale attack, as evidenced by our last battle a decade past. Yet, we are not without options. We can still wield our influence—disrupt their supply lines, sow chaos within their ranks, and force them to reconsider their strategy. We must be cunning and precise."
Livik's gaze hardened with resolve. "Indeed, so we will launch our own offensive. We shall strike first, not to conquer, but to disarray and dissuade. Our aim is to make their ambitions uncertain and costly, to shift the balance of power in our favour."
"At the same time in the heavens"
A god, observing the unfolding events from his celestial realm, looked down with a contemplative gaze. The expanse of the mortal world below seemed like a grand chessboard, and he watched as the pieces moved with an almost detached curiosity. The swirling mists of the heavens framed the scene, adding an ethereal quality to his observations.
"It appears the Demon Lord has resolved to take action," he remarked to the goddess beside him. His tone was a mixture of intrigue and resignation, as if he were commenting on a well-known but tiresome pattern. His eyes glinted with a divine light, reflecting the weight of eons spent overseeing the ebb and flow of mortal affairs.
"Indeed," the goddess replied succinctly, her eyes fixed on the distant world with an air of timeless indifference. Her gaze held the wisdom of millennia, and her presence radiated a calm that belied the turbulence below.
The god turned to her, a glint of curiosity in his eyes. "What will you do about it?"
The goddess's response was calm and assured, as if reciting a well-worn truth. "I shall do what I have done for millennia. I shall send forth a hero, as is my custom. It is through such interventions that the balance is maintained and the threads of fate are woven anew."
The god nodded, a smile playing at the corner of his lips. "Ah, I see. And as it happens, here comes the hero now."
"At the same time on Earth"
In a city that bustled with indifference, a young boy stood on the edge of a bridge, looking out at the turbulent waters below. His heart was heavy, burdened by a relentless tide of despair. The bullying at his school had become unbearable. He was ostracized, ridiculed for his appearance and weight. Each day was a trial, marked by the harsh judgments and scorn of those around him. The city lights flickered in the distance, a stark contrast to the darkness that enveloped his soul.
Desperate to escape his grim reality, he had immersed himself in manga and anime, worlds where heroes rose above adversity and wrongs were righted. Yet, even his dreams of heroism seemed hollow, mere fiction in the face of his own suffering. The vibrant pages of his fantasy worlds seemed to mock him now, as his reality remained starkly unchanged.
As he stood there, a silent plea escaped his lips. "I've always dreamed of being a hero, but I guess that's just fantasy. But if there is a reality where I can be more, where I can escape this pain… please, take me there."
With a final, shuddering breath, the boy leaped from the bridge, plunging into the churning waters below. His fate seemed sealed, his life ending in a tragic culmination of despair and longing. The waters surged around him, a final, turbulent embrace as his hopes and dreams were swallowed by the darkness.