The war between the East and the West was not merely a clash of armies; it was a battle for survival, a fight that shattered the spirit of an entire people. The emotional toll on the Westerners, who were once proud and thriving in their protectorate, was profound, deep, and unrelenting. It wasn't just the loss of land or the destruction of their cities—it was the decimation of their identity, their unity, and their future. This toll manifested in countless ways: in the hearts of the mothers who lost their children, in the souls of the soldiers who fought until they could fight no more, and in the eyes of the survivors who bore the scars of war long after the battles were over.
The Erosion of Hope
Before the war, the Western Protectorate was a land of prosperity. Its people had a deep-rooted connection to their land, a sense of pride in their history, and a shared vision for the future. Their cities were bustling with trade, culture, and life. The West had a reputation for resilience, for standing firm in the face of adversity, and their unity was their strength. But all of that began to disintegrate as the war unfolded.
The first blow was psychological. The Eastern forces, led by General Karidan, were ruthless and methodical in their attacks. The siege of Yarlon, where they massacred civilians and destroyed homes, marked the beginning of an emotional descent that would only deepen. The Westerners had long relied on their military to protect them, but their prideful belief in their strength was shaken by the brutal efficiency of the Eastern forces.
In the days after Yarlon fell, despair settled over the West like a fog. The news of the massacre spread like wildfire, and the once-hopeful hearts of the people turned cold with fear. Each day brought more reports of Eastern victories, and with every defeat, the collective spirit of the West eroded further. It was as if the soul of the people was being chipped away, piece by piece. The loss of their cities, the burning of their fields, and the forced displacement of entire villages weighed heavily on the minds of every man, woman, and child. They began to lose faith not only in the possibility of victory but in the possibility of survival itself.
The Loss of Family and Community
For the Westerners, family was everything. In a society where bonds were strong and communities were tight-knit, the loss of family members in battle was an agonizing blow. Fathers, sons, daughters, and mothers were torn from their homes by the war. The battlefield, once distant and abstract, became an inevitable part of daily life, and the wounds of loss were felt everywhere.
As the war intensified, families were torn apart, and the psychological weight of grief became unbearable. Every soldier who went off to fight left behind a family that didn't know if they would ever see their loved one again. Those who survived the war returned home as ghosts of their former selves—mentally broken, physically wounded, or both. Many were forever haunted by the faces of the fallen, by the screams of battle, and by the unrelenting images of death they had witnessed.
Mothers who had lost sons became the keepers of their memory, often refusing to let go of the past. They wore the weight of grief like a shroud, and in many cases, this grief was passed down to the younger generation—children growing up with the shadow of war looming over them. The younger children, those too young to fully comprehend the horrors of battle, were left to wonder where their fathers had gone, why they had never come home, and when the war would finally end.
The Destruction of Identity
Beyond the loss of life, the war also took something even more intangible: the identity of the Western people. Before the war, the West prided itself on its culture, its unity, and its deep connection to its land. They were the industrious, the free, the resilient. But as the war dragged on and the East's dominance grew, the Westerners' sense of self began to fracture.
The siege of Tranor, the heart of the West, marked the pinnacle of their destruction. The once-great capital city, filled with artisans, scholars, and traders, was reduced to rubble by Eastern artillery. The cultural landmarks, the libraries, and the monuments that had represented the West's history were obliterated. Tranor's destruction felt like the erasure of an entire people's heritage. In the wake of the destruction, the Westerners were left to question not only their ability to defend their land but their very place in the world. They were no longer the powerful protectorate they had once been. They were victims—victims of an unforgiving war that had stolen their identity and left them fractured.
The psychological impact of this loss was immense. With the fall of Tranor, the West ceased to exist as it once had. What followed was a sense of purposelessness and confusion, as the people who had once thrived in their freedom now lived in the shadow of an oppressive regime. To survive was to submit, and many did just that. The once-proud Westerners found themselves reduced to subservience, relegated to ghettos and slums where their existence was defined not by their hopes or dreams but by their survival instincts.
The Effects on the Soldier's Psyche
For the soldiers of the West, the emotional toll of war was far worse. They had always fought for honor, for the protection of their families, and for the pride of their protectorate. But after months of brutal combat, surrounded by death, destruction, and the relentless weight of survival, many soldiers broke.
Beshaar, the young man who would later rise to challenge the Eastern General, was no exception. Before the war, he had been a hopeful and ambitious youth, eager to defend his people and make his mark. But as the war raged on, the horrors of battle stripped him of his innocence. He witnessed comrades die in the most brutal of ways—crushed by falling debris, burned alive by Eastern incendiaries, and hacked to pieces in close combat. For Beshaar and his fellow soldiers, the line between right and wrong became blurred. They were fighting not for glory but for survival, and the deeper they went into the war, the more they began to lose their humanity.
After the war, many soldiers, like Beshaar, found it difficult to reintegrate into civilian life. They were haunted by the faces of those they had killed, by the decisions they had made, and by the trauma they had endured. Many turned to alcohol, drugs, or violence in an attempt to numb the pain. The psychological scars of the war ran deep, and even when the fighting stopped, the battle within each soldier continued.
The Final Blow: The Bio-Chemical Rain
And then, just when it seemed the West had nothing left to lose, the East unleashed the bio-chemical rain. The survivors, already battered by the ravages of war, faced a new horror: the complete annihilation of their environment. The rain that fell on the land was not just a weapon of mass destruction—it was a cruel mockery of nature itself. The West's crops withered, their animals died, and the land became a wasteland. The people were slowly poisoned, their bodies disintegrating before their very eyes.
This final assault broke the spirit of the Western people. What was left to fight for? The land was dying. The people were dying. Even hope itself was dying.
For those who survived, the question was no longer how to win the war—it was how to endure it. The war had destroyed more than their homes, their cities, and their land. It had taken their will to live, their sense of belonging, and their belief that they would ever be whole again. The survivors lived in a world where every day was a fight to stay alive, and every moment was haunted by the memories of what had been lost.
But in the darkness, in the heart of their suffering, a single ember of defiance remained. The West had been brought to its knees, but it was not broken. As long as there were people like Beshaar, who carried the hope of a reborn West in their hearts, there was still the possibility of redemption. The emotional toll had been overwhelming, but the fight for their future had only just begun.