Time never returns, yet history has a way of circling back. I am in middle of war , and I no longer understand what's happening around me.Just days ago, the clans—once allies—turned on each other, their skirmishes petty compared to the chaos now unfolding. Friend and foe blur into a single, blood-soaked haze .
The Upper Four Demons have descended upon the battlefield, and the world has unraveled. Demons and humans slaughter one another without mercy. Half the country lies in ruins—cities reduced to ash, fields trampled into graves.The Upper Four didn't join this war without purpose. When the lastfounding member of kshatra died, whispers spread—demons start spreading rumours in every clan i don't know properly about it but i hear about it by another lips.
The clans fractured, and in the chaos, a group rose from the ashes of the Kshatra founders' teachings. Students, barely trained, took up arms against the demons. But the battlefield was already a graveyard when they arrived.I stand amidst it all, my vision swimming. Flashes of light sear the air—explosions, perhaps, or something worse. Buildings collapse, their groans swallowed by screams. I can't tell who's killing whom. Somehow, I'm still alive, slipping in and out of consciousness,
my brain is feeling heavy , i think it's my last day but my body refusing to break.When my eyes flutter open again, a figure looms before me. A man kneels on the shattered ground, his body mangled, his scream tearing through the din. Light pulses from him, a golden glow that trembles with his agony. Is he avenging the fallen? His cry shakes the earth, and I feel it in my bones.Facing him stand the Upper Four Demons, their forms battered but unyielding. Exhaustion clings to them, yet their presence is a storm waiting to break. Then, in an instant, the clash begins—one man against four titans. Their battle is a tempest of light and shadow, each strike splintering the ground beneath them. I shield my eyes, but the flashes burn through my lids. The air hums with power, the soil quakes, and I stumble back, breathless.
A shadow looms overhead. I barely register the crumbling wall before it crashes down.
when i get counsious again my body is fully recovered i am thinking that is just dream until i open my eyes and try to move. Everywhere just distruction. Body is hurting too much, but i am fine but i am feeling tired. in that resion i see only dead bodies not a single person or animal alive.
Pain is an old companion now, dull and familiar.O i forgot to introduce myself My name is Eran. I don't know my clan or my parents—I'm an orphan, adrift in a world that's forgotten me. But my body is strange. Cuts knit themselves shut, bruises fade in hours. No wound, no matter how deep, claims me for long.
I am thinking about anything in that rush but suddenly someone touch my body when i open my eyes a man take off me. I have not much energy to put any efforts . I am little scare that time and want to ask questions who are you , where are we going, but i can't.
When i reach his house his wife waiting for him.THey treat me in his house. He is good person and also good warrior "I once called him 'Big Brother.' He only smiled and said, 'We're friends. I don't believe in labels.' His words left me speechless, but I didn't press further."
I live there for about two years .Those days are really beautiful he is nice warrior and wife is good person.Then his wife get pregnant everything going fine but i feel shortage of food and things started and i don't want to be burden on him. So i leave that place in night without telling them.
Two years have passed since the war. I'm nine now, and the war has faded to a fragile stillness. The demons have retreated, leaving only scattered survivors to pick through the wreckage. Yet the quiet brings no peace—
only questions that gnaw at me. Why did the demons come? What drove this war? Was it worth the lives lost if no one remembers the fallen?
After moving some kilometres I found shelter with an old man, He need person to take care of a baby girl that time girl is approx 3 years old. He call her offlia.his home a sanctuary of dust and books. He spoke little, his eyes heavy with secrets.
And offlia is good girl.I don't know three years child what think about anything.but she likes to play with me.
Grandpa is also good person. He likes too read books and talk about his past. Grandpa asks me sometimes what do you want be? But i have no answers. Then he told me when he was child he wants too be great warrior but in his childhood his body is too weak due to some desease.
When I pressed grandpa about the war, he only muttered, "This was nothing compared to what came before." Then he handed me a stack of books, as if the answers lay within their brittle pages.
One day, I unearthed a relic among them—a torn volume, its cover worn to threads, half its pages lost to time. It bore the mark of a Kshatra founder. The surviving fragments spoke of an older war, when ten Upper Demons roamed the earth, hunting a key. They razed clans, their power swelling with each conquest. Three men rose to meet them, forging the Kshatra to train warriors—humans and magical beasts alike—to stand against the tide. That war ended with six demons dead, but victory came at a steep price: two founders fell.The book ignited something in me.
After reading this
I scoured the old man's shelves for more, driven by a child's hunger for purpose. I read many books. One day I found some thing strange between those old book i see a glowing new book—a slim, weathered text titled Nature's Diary. Its words stopped me cold. A book written by Nature itself? At nine, it felt like destiny calling.Here's what i read.
(Nature's Diary)
"I do not recall my birth, but I have witnessed galaxies rise and crumble beyond number. I cradled this world when the first dawn touched its face. Every storm's fury, every leaf's shiver, every faltering heartbeat—I have felt them all. I whisper through the winds, carve the rivers, and bear the weight of every soul that has ever drawn breath.But she—she is beyond me.I do not claim she made me, only that she is older, purer. Even I, Nature, dare not touch her—it would be sacrilege. Light bends away from her, as if the universe guards her sanctity. When she treads the earth, a faint, glassy veil forms beneath her feet, an unspoken shield. She walks among unseen souls, yet leaves no trace. The sky weeps at her sorrow, the wind stills in her silence.I, who named the rivers, stars, and beasts, cannot name her. I know it, but my voice falters. Some truths are too sacred for words.Yet she accepts my humble gift: a season woven for her alone, not bound by mortal time. It comes unannounced, a quiet grace for the forgotten—those who fought for a world that erased them. She remembers the misunderstood, the abandoned, the lost. Their souls find her, resting in her warmth as if returning to a mother's embrace.She speaks no words, yet all understand. She offers no paradise, yet her presence suffices. In their final moments, the dying receive her gift—love, warmth, a joy they never knew in life. Even death, in her shadow, feels like home.She wanders battlefields long after the clamor fades, where warriors once stood unshaken. To history, they are dust; to her, they are children who fought for something greater. She kneels where they fell, whispering what they longed to hear: 'You were not forgotten.'Their scars, their burdens, their sacrifices—they were not for nothing. The world marches on, but she holds their memory beyond time's reach.Even demons, forged of rage and despair, falter before her. In their last breaths, they taste something impossible—forgiveness, a love without judgment. For an instant, they are not monsters, not forsaken. They are simply beings, yearning for rest.She is neither savior nor avenger. She does not bend fate or join the living's wars. She simply exists—watching, waiting, offering a gift no force can steal: a place where the forgotten are seen.As long as stars blaze, rivers run, and winds carry the past's echoes, she will endure. Not to be touched. Not to be revered. But to remind the universe that even the smallest soul was once loved.
After reading this book i ask about it to grandpa but he told me i never read this book.but one thing i get clear my goal be a great warrior. For child who never seen his mother and father. Wants too meet that unknown presence why not the price of this is death.
Life is going good just play with offlia and do training.
Days pass fast.
"I'm 23 now.still i remember every sentence of nature dairy.
The old man—my grandfather by choice, not blood—passed peacefully, leaving his books, his wisdom, and a tangle of unanswered questions. For years, I've hunted the missing pages of that Kshatra tome, chasing a truth buried by time. But life doesn't wait for answers. I've become a teacher, guiding two children—Akriya and Ryoshi. They're raw, brimming with potential, their eyes alight with the same curiosity I once carried. In them, I see echoes of the warriors I read about.
Offlia is my sister and part of academy she is not much powerful but good caretaker.
In these Fourteen years not a big demon attack happen.I have many things too tell you about past Days but i am in hurry because
today, a big demonic attack struck the family of my friend—a warrior far stronger than I'll ever be. He'll face it, I know, but I can't stand idle. Not this time.I won't charge in blindly, but I'm going. Some things demand a response. As I step into the unknown, her words echo in my mind: "You were not forgotten.