Famine, plague, the sale of ordinary people into slavery, almost execution because of stolen apples, torture, public punishments and the like.

You seemed to have gone through everything you could imagine. It was unbearable, you wouldn't even wish it on an enemy.

No, the last thing left is the war. You were standing on a bloody field, kicking the corpses of fallen soldiers out of the way, walking in an unknown direction.

Your mind was clouded and everything was swimming in your eyes, sluggish legs and arms, blood flowing from wounds. Having stopped, a tall shadow of a man fell on you. You slowly looked up and saw in front of you Ares, the god of war, who was nicknamed Graves in narrow circles.

"— The war has battered everyone. Who is she? Identify yourself, warrior." The man said, drawing his blade and taking a few steps back, looking at you sternly.