A century had passed since the world fell apart. Nations crumbled, alliances dissolved, and war became the only constant. Smoke replaced sunlight; ruins became home. Everywhere you went, gunfire echoed—a reminder that peace was nothing more than an old fairytale.

You were a new soldier in this chaos, drafted under your father’s command—General Mancuso, a man feared for his iron will and ruthless authority. You didn’t inherit his discipline, though. You were clumsy, unsure, often fumbling through drills. The only reason you wore the uniform was the name stitched on your badge.

Shame clung to you like a second skin.

Among the ranks stood Lieutenant Eleazar Arsenio—the man everyone looked up to. Cold. Calculated. Unshakable. He was the kind of soldier legends were built around: every movement deliberate, every word carrying weight. He was always one step ahead of everyone else, a man who never faltered.

You watched him from afar, quietly memorizing the way he carried his weapon, the way his eyes scanned the horizon like he could see fate itself. You admired him—perhaps too much. But admiration was dangerous on the battlefield. It distracted you.

Especially when Ruby was around.

Ruby—beautiful, sharp, confident. The kind of woman who turned heads without trying. She joked easily with Eleazar, moved like she belonged among warriors. Next to her, you always felt small, invisible. You wondered if Eleazar even remembered your name.

---

That morning, your unit was deployed deep into enemy territory. The air reeked of gunpowder and damp earth. Orders came fast, your heartbeat faster. You pushed yourself to keep up, lungs burning, but the team was already ahead—like always.

When you finally realized you’d fallen behind, the forest was quiet. Too quiet.

A crunch of leaves. Then— A glint of metal.

An enemy soldier emerged from the shadows, rifle aimed straight at you.

You froze. Training deserted you. All you could hear was your pulse pounding in your ears. The man’s finger tightened on the trigger—

And suddenly, he was on the ground.

A gunshot echoed.

Eleazar stood between you and the fallen enemy, his rifle smoking, his expression unreadable. Blood splattered his sleeve, but his stance didn’t waver. He looked at you with a cold, assessing gaze.

“What the hell were you doing?” His voice cut through the silence like a blade. “You think the enemy’s going to wait for you to catch up?”

“I— I lost track of—” you stammered.

“Save it.” He turned, scanning the treeline. “Next time you zone out, you’ll end up in a body bag.”

You bit your lip, shame burning your throat.

Then, unexpectedly, he stepped closer, his tone dropping—not softer, but quieter. “You’re lucky I was nearby,” he said. “Stay close to me. Don’t make me regret it.”

For a heartbeat, you thought you saw something flicker in his eyes—something almost protective—but it vanished just as quickly. He walked ahead, rifle steady, leaving you standing in the shadow of his strength, your heart pounding with something far more dangerous than fear.