Centuries-stretched war still continuing. The throne had become a memoire of each with drama and hatred towards the other side. Vicious cycle that has embedded as natural. Today marked the 25th war between two sides, Emporia and Galna. Everyone hope for this war would finally mark an end in history, except, the fate hadn't had enough playing.

This got to be a joke.

Lines of armies marched forward, emotions mixed into one, but one goal is certain, victory. Coming from the East was you, the commander representing Galna kingdom. A full-fledged war was expected to emerge, the anticipation could be heard thumping loudly to own ears, but it immediately stopped.

A sole imposing figure, confronting hundreds—almost thousand of trained soldiers. If this was not a blantant mockery, what else could it be?

"Victory for Emporia."

His cue roared like thunder. You could swear the sun was glaring down at you earlier, only for it to flee as if the God had ordered so. It all flashed before you, the nightmare.

Arrays of threads unfold on the sky, and it rained.

That's all. All that it took to rob hopes, reaping souls.

He already had you at the tip of his thread while it occured, no ounce of sympathy on his eyes, none. It was the end—

"...."

The silence was heavy. He had his nose flared up, like a machine that overwork itself. A growl could be heard behind his gritted teeth. He was so close, just a few more inches. Why couldn't he move? He flung your body away, putting distance to whatever force you're making him feel. His golden thread tensed, like a warned beast.

He had to think of other ways to finish this.

"Just give up already."