Chapter 1: Prologue
Chapter 1
Boom!!!!!!
A gigantic fireball fell on a group of people. A bombardment followed.
Soldiers in the golden armor were trying to push through. They were invaders.
Soldiers in simple armor, without any special adoration, were trying to defend.
It was clear which was the superior army there.
The defenders stood no chance against the golden soldiers.
For every golden soldier lost, the defenders lost ten of their own.
The only reason they were able to resist for three days was because the golden army was going easy on them.
It wasn't because the defenders had a few mages on their side, nor because their defensive walls were solid like adamantium.
It was because of the stars on the armor of the golden soldiers.
The stars represented the strength of the soldiers.
The soldiers who were attacking had only one star on their armor.
They were simply cannon fodders. Lowest of the lowest.
The Golden Army had seven stars. With each star increase, their strength multiplied.
Yet here they were, trying to defend against the weakest of the invaders with their strongest.
Yet they didn't give up.
They kept defending.
They kept dying.
They kept standing.
A man adorned in golden armor on the side of the invaders saw this scene.
Puzzled, he was. He didn't understand why they were resisting.
The same strategy had worked in the past.
No matter which continent or nation he invaded, they gave up when they saw the might of his army.
Yet here they were, the weakest nation he had ever come across, yet they weren't giving up.
They were resisting.
They were still fighting.
Puzzled, he was. Yet he was a conqueror. He had never come across a human who didn't bend to his power.
It will be the same for these people as well.
Once they see his might, they will lose their will to fight.
That's how it always was. That's how it will always going to be.
Yet there was a surprise awaiting the man in the golden armor.
He stood up. Next to him, a young girl was standing, adorned in a golden armor like him.
Unlike him though, she had stars on her armor. Seven stars.
She was holding his robe. A dark black robe.
A robe that didn't match his current attire, yet he still wore it whenever he went to a battle.
She handed him his robe which he wore over his golden armor.
He was ready. To battle. To show his strength. To massacre.
He exited the glorious tent he was sitting in. The golden army outside knelt on his appearance.
This man was their emperor.
This man was used to describe the word strength.
He fleetingly glanced at his army.
No reports were given to him.
They didn't tell him what was going on in the battle right now. They didn't tell him how many they had lost. They didn't tell him what the stance of the defenders was.
They knew that he already knew.
He was out. He was there. He was there because he wanted to be.
He wanted to show his might to these poor creatures. Let them know how vain their efforts were.
Show them that the stars were never there to lower their morale. No. He was.
He was there for that. There was no need for him to be in the battle in the first place.
Only the one-star soldiers were enough to invade their weak nation.
Yet he was still there. To implement his strength in their very soul.
So that everyone in their nation, the elder who is about to cross to the otherworld or the infant who is just about to open his eyes to the new world, witness his power.
The elder, tells the master of the underworld about his strength.
The infant admires his strength all his life.
The man moved.
He stepped forward, only to step in the air, not on the ground.
He slowly rose. Rose above everything. His view covered everything going on in the battle and everything past the walls of the defending nation.
He saw it. Defenders defending desperately. Their eyes burned bright despite the desperateness.
Puzzled, he was. But also admired the shine in their eyes.
Yet he was still going to do this. He was going to destroy that shine with a single display of his strength.
The display that wasn't even one-tenth of his real strength.
He was going to display it to them.
His hand rose.
A small globe of fire materialized above his palm.
He kept rising in the sky and at the same time, the globe in his hand started growing, turning bigger and brighter.
Until he was high enough in the sky that he was touching the clouds yet there were no clouds in his vicinity. They had all evaporated by the glowing ball of flame in his hand.
The ball of flame kept growing, it kept getting larger until, to the people on the ground, it looked like a second sun.
The soldiers on the ground, both invaders and defenders, stopped.
The Golden Army admired what they saw. At the same time, they started to disappear from the front.
They started to appear behind a green shield, with the rest of the army.
The defenders though, who were supposed to despair, didn't.
The shine in their eyes the same, burning with the same intensity.
Puzzled, he was.
But he didn't stop. The verdict couldn't be given yet. They had only seen it, his power. They hadn't felt it. They needed to feel it to know of his might. They needed to feel it so the glow in their eyes recedes. For it to dim down, he will show them his power. Let them feel it, and then he will ask.
Why? Why do they still stand with their bright eyes even after seeing his might?
"I am the Emperor of Beginning." He threw the giant ball of flame at the defenders on the ground as he said these words.
"And I am the end." He said again as he closed his fist, a deafening boom resounded everywhere.
Maybe the whole world felt it? Maybe the whole existence felt it?
It wasn't just a ball of flame. It was the flame of destruction. Something even the god of destruction might not be able to accomplish.
So maybe, the whole existence felt it, the tremble it brought. The destruction.
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The man descended. His dark robe fluttered in the air. He descended like the emissary of death.
He now stood where the defenders stood.
The whole defense was gone. The landscape had changed.
Yet the death only consisted of the defenders.
No common people were killed even though they were in the radius of the blast.
No golden soldiers were killed.
Only those died whom he had sentenced to die.
A single man stood in front of him. One of the defenders.
He came face to face with him.
He let the situation register in the mind of the young man.
He let him process it. What had happened? What he had done to his people.
And when the young man had registered everything. When he saw that he stood alone in front of the man who had destroyed everything.
He closed his eyes, the young man.
He looked at the young man, wondering what sort of eyes he would have now.
He waited.
The young man took a deep breath.
He raised his spear. His eyes were still closed. He entered a stance, his eyes still closed.
And then he opened them.
Puzzled, he was.
They were still shining bright, the eyes of the young man.
There was no fear in them. Only determination. Determination to defend.
He wondered. Why? Why were his eyes so bright?
Why was it so even after he had witnessed his strength? He had felt it with his own being, yet why?
"What do you fight for?" He asked the young man.
The young man. Barely an adult, held his spear tightly and said, "For freedom."
He knew he had lost.
"You have lost so why?" He asked again.
"Because I will truly lose when I won't fight for freedom giving my all." He knew he had lost yet he kept fighting. For freedom. Whose freedom?
What use was freedom if he was dead?
"What use is freedom if you are dead?" He asked for the third time. Same question. Only different words and different answers.
"Freedom is not living free. Freedom is dying free. Knowing you gave it your all. Knowing you didn't cower. Knowing you didn't kneel before anyone. Knowing you were as free as the day you came into this world. I am free."
Another new answer to the same question. The simple question of why.
"Tell me, oh ruler of the lands across the sea, are you free?" This time it was the young man who asked.
He asked the emperor.
The emperor fell silent.
He didn't answer.
He didn't have an answer.
So, he turned. He turned his back to the young man and walked away.
He didn't float or fly this time. Nor did he teleport. He simply walked.
He kept walking and walking and inside his head, a sentence kept repeating. Again, and again.
'Am I free?' He thought during the whole walk. He walked and walked. Until the sun was about to set.
It was dark. He finally returned where his army was stationed.
Yet he kept walking. He walked until he reached his tent. No one said anything to him. No one asked him anything. They simply knelt.
He finally reached his makeshift throne. He sat down on his throne.
Everyone in the tent was kneeling. Everyone except the young girl beside his throne.
Silence. There was silence in the tent. There was silence outside the tent.
There was silence throughout the whole army.
"No one," finally the silence was breached. "No one is to invade this land. Not now, not ever. Not us, not anyone. This land is free."
And the golden army retreated.
The young man kept standing. He didn't sit or turn his back. He kept standing. He stood free.
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