Chapter 1: Prolouge

The fiery inferno swept across the land, leaving nothing but destruction in its wake. A blazing orange glow illuminated the once verdant woodland, as the flames danced and consumed everything in its path.

The sky was filled with thick grey smoke, blocking out even the moonlight, and the heat was intense enough to scorch the skin. In the centre of the sea of fire stood a towering ruin, its walls stained with the remnants of blood and organs. The stench was overpowering, so foul that even the scent of gunpowder could not mask it.

Suddenly, a massive dragon rose from behind the black smoke, its silhouette towering high above the inferno. It was as if a corrupted angel had been sent from the depths of hell to purify the world with fire. The dragon's presence was both intimidating and awe-inspiring, as it watched over the destruction it had caused.

After a long absence, the lord of the sky had finally arrived. Its body was covered in dark, scaly skin, and thousands of spikes only added to its menacing appearance. It let out a deafening roar, a declaration of its power and dominance over everything in its path. The world trembled at its presence, a reminder to all that they lived to fear and obey.

However, the once mighty dragon was now nothing more than a mere war machine, a pet for those who controlled it. Its glorious era had come to an end at the hands of a single individual.

Walking along the cracked stone path was a mysterious figure. Dressed in a dark green military uniform, with a helmet of the same colour, he appeared to be a human, but with reptilian features and five horns jutting out from the nape of his neck.

As he walked, he spotted a shadow in the distance, shaped like a hill. Curiosity getting the best of him, he decided to take a closer look.

"How pathetic!" He sighed.

His discovery showed that it was a pile full of corpses, literally a flesh mountain. They still looked young and must be under eighteen years old. The man kneed one leg and browsed their clothes. Their dresses were the uniforms of a school.

"Death, why do these people fear death? That is the only way to free us from this cruel world."

Coating them was a thick liquid that looked like blood. The colour was opaque white, giving off a strong odour.

He noticed that and then used his index finger to brush that strange liquid. There was a greasy feeling on the skin. He put it on his tongue, tasting it.

It tasted horrible, but it made him feel like wanting to taste that again. The man stuck his tongue out and licked out a puddle on their dead body before getting up. A thought came to him.

"Sexual needs, disgusting! Such a tragic ending for these poor creatures."

The man stood amidst with sharp eyes scanning the desolate land. Suddenly, something fluttered down from the sky, settling on his nose. He looked up and frowned. "Not snow," he thought to himself, "the ashes of the burning corpses." The realization filled him with emptiness, reminding him of the horrors of war.

He gazed at the pile of bodies, so young and innocent. It was a tragedy that they had to die without proper funeral rites. With a flick of his wrist, he summoned a block of earth from the ground and lifted it into the air. Gently, he placed the corpses inside the makeshift mass grave and covered them with the earth block.

With his hat pressed against his chest, he stood before the grave and spoke.

"Those who carry the blood of the Soul Warriors must be eliminated," he declared. "For a world without your inferior beings, for the Lizardwar, for the Replord Empire...”

His speech was interrupted by the sound of sobs, familiar yet unknown. He frowned and wondered who it could be. Regardless, he put on his hat and wondered.

"I gave them permission to freely use the weapons. And they still can’t get the job done. Perhaps, I have underestimated them."

He muttered, then shouted a name, "Granost!”

A panting henchman approached the general. The subordinate came to a halt a meter away from the general, sweat pouring down his body.

"Yes, General!?" The henchman gasped, placing his hands on his thighs to catch his breath.

The general nodded silently before giving the henchman his next command. "Our job here is done. Gather your troops and return to the Empire. And make sure to bring the children you captured earlier. Give them all to Menovilest for the feast. I will stay behind for a little longer."

“Yes, general!" Granost took a deep breath, "Back to the base, soldiers!" shouted Granost as the earth trembled beneath their feet. Thousands of troops, dressed in dark purple military uniforms, marched forward in perfect formation, each carrying a rifle with a knife on their left side and three spare cartridges on their right. Behind them, two missile wagons followed, a fearsome reminder of the power of the Replord Empire.

The general stood at the forefront of the army, watching with pride as his soldiers marched forward. He turned to Granost and spoke in a stern, commanding voice. "This is the true might of the Empire, marching towards our enemies. A display of strength and unity that brings me great joy."

The skies were filled with the massive form of the dragon, a symbol of the Empire's unrivalled military might. It was a reminder to the world that no one dared to challenge their power.

As the marching army reached the outskirts, a military jeep approached the General and Granost. The driver, bowing respectfully, addressed them.

"Greetings, General. Mr Granost, it's time for us to depart."

Granost turned to the General and offered his farewells. "I will see you at Managost Fort, General. Shall I escort you along?"

The General stood tall, his voice ringing with authority. "No need, Granost. I will make my way there shortly. Safe travels to you."

Granost stepped into the jeep, bidding one final salute to the General. The engine roared to life, the vehicle joining the march as it made its way out of the desolate wasteland. The imposing sight of the marching army, accompanied by the dragon soaring in the sky, was a testament to the absolute military power of the Replord Empire.

The general stood still, his face cast downward in thought. A craving for stimulation burned within him, and he reached into his pocket to pull out a box of cigars and a lighter. He slowly lit one and took a deep, satisfying drag.

"Ah, so refreshing," he sighed, feeling the stimulant race through his veins.

But as soon as he blew out the smoke, he was overcome by a fit of coughing. Shaking his head, he stuffed the whole box into his mouth and lit it.

"Come out, show yourself!" he commanded, his voice sharp.

But no one answered. The general looked around, taking in the wreckage that surrounded him. It was large enough to cover an adult, and he wondered if the person who had made the crying sound was hiding among it.

With a flick of his wrist, he sent a rock flying, revealing a boy of about eight years old, his dark blue hair mottled with grey ash. The general's eyes softened as he gazed down at the child.

"Your fate is one of pain and suffering," he said, a hint of sadness in his voice. "But who knows what the future may bring."

The general watched as the boy tried to stand up, his body trembling in pain. He was barely able to lift himself off the ground, his face twisted in agony. The general approached him, towering over him as he lay vulnerable on the ground.

"You're weak, aren't you?" The general said with a sneer. "Your hatred is nothing compared to the power I wield. It's nothing more than a spark in a storm. A mere whisper in the wind."

The boy tried to speak, but his words came out as barely more than a whisper. "Why... why are you doing this?"

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The general chuckled, a cruel smile spreading across his face. "Why? Because it's my job. Because I enjoy it. Because I can. That's why."

The boy's eyes filled with tears, his body wracked with pain and misery. The general watched him with a cold, emotionless gaze, relishing the power he held over the broken child in front of him.

"This is your fate," the general said. "To suffer, to be broken, to be at my mercy. And I will not show you any mercy."

With that, the general delivered another vicious kick to the boy, watching as he fell back to the ground, unconscious and beaten. The general stood there, looking down at the broken form of the boy, feeling a sense of satisfaction and power wash over him.

Then, the general left him alone and headed toward that strange object. He walked over, and then picked it up to see clearly.

A detached head of a young girl, he could see. That was a very unsightly sight to any person. But, the general was different.

"Ah! A little girl. Just look at her, how sad! She is too young to die. She would have become an amazing warrior. However, this is my free snack, not my concern."

He opened his mouth wide and swallowed it. Then, the general pulled out a pistol, pointed it at the kid’s forehead, and grinned.

“Just by eliminating you, the last of the Golden Generation, the destruction of mankind is no longer a fantasy. Lizardwar will rule the world eternally. Prepare to reunite with them.”

“No!” The boy cried out, tears streaming down his face as his body trembled with grief and despair. He tightened his grip on the ground, lost in misery.

With a blood-curdling scream, he released all the anger and pain that he had held back for those years.

The general, who was unharmed, opened his eyes and saw that his gun had turned into scrap metal, unable to withstand the boy's powerful scream. He let out an amused smile and clapped his hands.

"Outstanding! Show me the wrath that you’ve held back for this long!”

As the boy's screams gradually faded, his body weakened and he collapsed. The general approached him with a blood-stained blade in hand, a disappointed expression on his face.

“Well... Let’s settle this quickly!”

He swung the weapon over his head, ready to deliver the final blow. Time slowed to a near stop as the boy raised his head, watching in horror as the sharp blade descended upon him. All he could do was cry and pray for someone to save him.

“Finally, I have succeeded in pulling you out of that brat, dark soul.”

A jet of black smoke emerged from the boy's body, moving back and forth like a living creature. It grew red eyes that looked quite frightening, glaring at the man holding the blade that had broken. A voice that was not terrifyingly deep but anomalously distorted rang out.

“Five Horns, stay away from the kid! It has suffered enough of the pain from you, don’t force me!”

Despite the terrifying aura radiating from it, the general calmly plunged his blade into the ground. He pulled a rock beside him to sit and softly replied.

“Three years since I burned down that village, I can see your friendship relationship or something like that hasn't changed much, huh? Don’t forget, thanks to me, you have awakened and could communicate with the kid. I even spared his life, if you remember.”

It sagged as if looking disappointed, nodding to confirm, what he said was true.

“Yes, I can’t deny that. But not this way, you already know that. He was only five years old to suffer a massive loss. That is unacceptable!”

While saying that, it approached the boy and slowly picked him up. The dark spirit gently placed the child somewhere away from the monster. Then, it glanced at the general with eyes filled with hostility.

“I won’t let you get away that easily again!”

The air was charged with electricity, as the two mighty beings locked gazes, both ready to unleash their full force. The general was the first to make a move, darting forward with a broken blade in hand. But the shadow, who had stood still up to this point, shifted its attention to the wounded boy lying on the ground, and the guilt in its eyes was palpable.

“How could I make such a stupid decision... I must protect the kid. Sorry, Five Horns, but it looks like we have to continue this on another day, not now!”

For a moment, the general hesitated, and then he saw the opportunity to take advantage of this opening. He charged forward with a roar, his broken blade aimed straight for the heart of his opponent. The shadow, who was still grappling with its guilt, was caught off guard by the sudden attack.

But as soon as the general got close, the shadow's body started to expand, and in an instant, it faded away.

The general's strike missed its mark and he found himself face-first on the ground. He groaned as he picked himself up, brushing off the dirt from his clothes. Rather than fly into a rage, the general sighed in frustration and pulled out a radio.

"This is the General. Respond immediately!"

The radio crackled to life with a mechanical voice. "What is your order, General?"

"Lord Komodo has ordered the execution of all captured Soul Warriors," the General said, a hint of disappointment in his voice.

He sighed "Will you two be the chosen one in the future? After all, this is a one-way battle, so there’s nothing worth looking forward to..."

Shaking his head to put aside that ridiculous thought, the general started walking and said one last sentence.

"Your deaths will not be forgotten."

Like the General's words, the legacy of the fallen Soul Warriors lived on. Their sacrifices inspired countless people to stand up against the Replord Empire. The people's determination to end the oppression grew stronger with each passing day, fueled by the memory of the fallen.

The battle against Replord was long and arduous, but the people never wavered. They fought with all their might, each day bringing them closer to their goal. Finally, after many hard-fought battles, the Replord Empire was officially defeated and its threat over the world was no more.

And so, the memory of the fallen heroes was enshrined in the hearts of the people, serving as a symbol of hope and courage in the face of adversity. They will forever be remembered as the heroes who paved the way to a brighter future for all.

Maybe...

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