War. The cycle that never ends. No matter the age, no matter the rulers, the outcome is always the same --death.
We kill each other to claim what we believe is ours. To settle disputes. To carve our names into history. In the end, war is always the solution.
The battlefield was drowning in blood. Corpses, armor, broken weapons, strewn across the ground like remnants of a forgotten age. The stench of death clung to the air, thick and suffocating. The sky above was raining lightly.
Screams echoed in the distance. The clash of steel. The roar of men throwing themselves into battle, desperate to end this war.
I stood in the midst of it, blade in hand, surrounded by corpses, some enemies, some allies. It made no difference. In war, the ground drinks the blood of all the same.
"ROY!"
A voice cut through the chaos, Andrew's voice. My brother.
I turned my head just as he rushed toward me, his heavy sword dripping with blood. "We're pushing them back!" he shouted over the deafening noise of war. "This is it! We're winning!"
Winning.
I exhaled, my breath visible in the cold air. The war between Devot and Polon had raged for years, but now, at last, it was over. The Polon forces were in complete retreat, their banners torn, their soldiers crushed.
With this final battle, one of the six great empires had ceased to exist. Devote had declared victory, and devoured Polon entirely… Its land, its people, and its history. Now, only five empires remained.
With Polon gone, Devot had become the largest empire on the map. The strongest. The most feared.
But what did it matter?
Nothing had changed. The world still bled. The war had ended, but another would take its place soon. It always did.
"In a world like this, humanity must live in both love and hate," I murmured to myself, watching as the last of Polon's soldiers fled. "Love alone leads to weakness. Hate alone leads to destruction. To survive, you must balance both of them."
But I wanted something more than survival.
"I refuse to accept this world as it is," I whispered, tightening my grip on my sword. Looking at the sky. "A world drowning in endless war, where lives are stolen for the sake of power. I dream of a world without war, without rulers who send men to die like tools. A world where humanity is free."
But dreams don't change the world. Power does. Actions does.
Love alone cannot reshape history, it is too fragile, too easily broken.
And so, I cast my emotions aside. I cannot even remember the last time I laughed. The last time I cried.
There is no room for weakness in a world that feeds on blood.
After our victory in the war, nothing remained as it was. The world shifted, and with it, the empire's priorities. New lands had to be secured, and to maintain order across these newly claimed lands, the empire began to recruit the next generation of soldiers.
Among those who proved themselves on the battlefield, a select few soldiers were selected for elite training and inducted into a newly created system, one designed to shape them into the backbone of the Empire's future.
Andrew and I were among those chosen. By our names, by our deeds on the battlefield, and even by our very survival, we had earned a place in this new system. They saw it as a privilege and a recognition of our accomplishments.
But for me, it was more like a burden. What had we really achieved? Victory in a war that seemed never to end. A world still drowning in blood. A world that would still demand more.
But I would see this as an opportunity. I had to keep rising and moving forward, because that would give me a chance to change this world.