"Do you think you know everything?"
"Ever wondered what feels like when all hopes are faded , when you only hope to survive even at the edge of sword"
"Let me tell you a story when fate of humanity is at stakes"
---
"Humans, in the kingdom of Mammoth, lived peacefully — until those vulture-looking demons stepped on the land of mamonth.
It was late, and Grothar and Jack were racing as usual on their father's horses. The sun had set early that day, and Jack felt something… wrong.
In a low voice, he said, "Let's go back, Grothar."
"Are you insane? Let's cross the river this time — or are you afraid I might beat you, Jacky?" he teased, like always.
They were setting our scores on the track Grothar had chosen when a flaming arrow shot in front of them. The horses reared up in fear.
"Damn, man. I told you something's not right," Jack whispered, terrified.
"Shut up, Jack! Follow me!" he barked. He always acted like my big brother when things went south.
By the time they reached the village, it was a sight Jack never wanted to witness. A bloodbath.
A Zenetsian army had descended upon yet another peaceful nation. Our small village, once filled with sweet morning songs and quiet nights, was now a river of blood.
"Jack! Bend down, you idiot!" Grothar grabbed his head and shoved his behind a sack of hay.
"I need to find my mother and father, bro." jack was so scared, his legs trembled with every heartbeat.
"Jack, don't be fooled. I don't think they made it."
His voice shook with truth — truth he didn't want to accept.
Jack slapped him without thinking and pushed him away.
"My father gave you food! My mother held you like her own!"
A Zenetsian soldier nearby overheard them. In a panic, jack ran toward what used to be our home. He didn't wait for grothar . He just ran.
As he entered the burning wreckage, blood soaked the floors. He followed the trail.
"Fa—" Jack's lips forgot how to say the word.
There was his father, holding an axe. His mother, cradled in his arms.
They were both devoured by the flames.
He dropped to his knees.
In that moment, a soldier grabbed him from behind and slammed him into a wall.
He choked him and whispered, "So young… another sword should've been used on you."
He wasn't even holding a weapon.
He was a child, too shocked to react.
His eyes went blurry. He couldn't breathe.
Then — a sharp pain. A sword pierced through his stomach.
Grothar.
"Damn it, Jack! Let's go!" He handed Jack the sword.
Jack took it, stood, and gave one last look at his parents before grabbing his father's pendant.
"We need to escape, bro," Grothar said. He was scanning everything, stepping over corpses, shoving swords into the skulls of the already dead — just in case.
"'Hm…'" Jack's mind was still numb, trying to process the loss.
Then Grothar saw a horse and rushed toward it.
As they reached the stall, it was empty — or so they thought.
Another Zenetsian soldier appeared, sword ready.
He was right behind Grothar.
"Brat, how can you still be alive?" the soldier hissed.
His blade was inches from Grothar's head.
Jack's mind went blank. One thought: Do it Do it Do it Do it Do itttttt-.
Jack gripped the knife and drove it into the soldier's throat.
It was the first time he killed a man.
The weight of it shattered Jack's heart.
Grothar took my hand and helped me onto the horse.
They drove off into the blood-drenched night.