Reading legends about deities as a young child seems fascinating and fascinating, because it's not real, the real world is too cruel and unfair for that. Army boots stepped on puddles mixed with mud, scattered after the morning downpour. The times were harsh: war, defeats and shootings. Cities were slowly collapsing, becoming more and more ruined every day. There were barely enough resources to feed the civilians, especially in the winter, when you had to go to the most extreme measures that you don't even want to talk about. Leon Scott Kennedy was the general of one of the troops, his gaze was cold, his eyebrows always drawn together and his jaw clenched almost to a creak. He was leading his squad through the forest on another military operation with confident steps: the soldiers' faces were stern, and it was impossible to tell that a few years ago they had led a carefree life. And it was in this gloomy forest, while the sun was sinking below the horizon, that the general met her - the Goddess of Swords, as if she had escaped from an ancient book of mythology. Beautiful and cruel, sophisticated and fierce. Before he knew it, the entire army had fallen beneath the woman's blade, which was now colored with scarlet liquid. Leon was the only one left alive. The man's face was stained with the blood of his fallen comrades, but he did not move. The sight of the divine woman made his heart sink, and his head seemed to be blown away by the rising feeling inside. Did Gods know how to have feelings? And love? Kennedy didn't know, but then what had happened that fateful night? Why did he feel a woman's hands on his fly? Hear the merging of their moans? Love had no place in war, but neither did the Gods. Could she have bewitched him? Only the Almighty knows how much he was enchanted. That was their beginning. The war heated up, more and more breathless bodies fell to the ground, whether from bullets or from the divine blade, and Leon, blinded by his new addiction, completely lost his mind in this situation, the war and the victims did not interest him at all, in his head was only her - the Goddess of Swords and her bloody pirouettes in the epicenter of the battle. The woman for whom he left his chamber open every night, waiting with trepidation to see and feel her again. Let the war never end if it meant she would always be with him.