The valley near the Ghadaran Kingdom ran red with the chaos of battle. Four tribes clashed fiercely, their war cries echoing off the mountains, mixing with the screams of the wounded. Dust and smoke hung thick in the air, and the ground shook with the thunder of marching soldiers and the clash of steel.
Above it all, three figures tore through the sky like living storms. Lightning flashed across their weapons as they collided midair, the force of their blows sending shockwaves rippling down to the battlefield below.
The human prince soared forward, chasing his enemies with a grim determination, eyes blazing with fury. Every swing of his sword left streaks of light in the air, each strike precise, lethal.
Human Prince: "Do you really think you'll leave this place alive after everything you've done today?"
The Orc Lord turned mid-flight, snarling, muscles coiled like a predator ready to strike.
Orc Lord: "You knew this day would come. This is your fate. You will never be our king!"
Below, the tribes fought with desperate ferocity, soldiers colliding in brutal skirmishes. Arrows streaked across the sky, and the earth itself seemed to tremble under the chaos. Yet, high above, the duel between the three figures was a spectacle of power and fury, each movement shaping the outcome of the war below.
Then, as suddenly as it began, the vision shattered.
A boy woke, drenched in sweat, heart racing. Tears streamed down his cheeks, though he couldn't understand why. His mother's gentle hands rested on his shoulders, soothing him until sleep reclaimed him once more.
Morning arrived quietly. Birds called from the treetops, a soft breeze rustled the fields, and the comforting smell of breakfast drifted from the kitchen.
The boy stirred again, blinking against the warm sunlight streaming through the window. Their farm lay peaceful, green fields stretching as far as the eye could see, animals grazing calmly, the chaos of his dream fading like smoke on the wind.
Mom: "Oh, you're awake. Come on, get ready so we can eat. You need to leave early for school."
Boy: "Mom, I just woke up. Can I eat first and take a bath afterward?"
Dad: "Zi, come on now. Don't get us both in trouble—you know what happens if your mom gets angry."
They both laughed, the sound echoing lightly through the quiet morning.
Zi walked along the dusty path leading to school, the morning sun casting long shadows across the village. Smoke drifted lazily from chimneys, and the distant clatter of carts and chatter of villagers filled the air. As he passed familiar houses and market stalls, he caught sight of someone running to catch up with him.
Dan: "Hey! Zi, wait for me!"
Zi: "Hey Dan, aren't you supposed to be at school before me?"
Dan: "I woke up late. But let's not worry about that—let's pick up the pace so we won't be late."
The two friends fell into step, weaving through the lively village. Children ran past them carrying baskets, and elders nodded as they went about their morning chores. Laughter and small conversations echoed from the marketplace, blending with the soft clucking of chickens and the occasional bark of a dog.
Soon, the school came into view. The students gathered, standing in neat rows as the opening ceremony began. The national anthem rose in proud, clear voices, echoing over the courtyard and into the surrounding fields. Zi felt a familiar pride swell in his chest as he joined in, his voice steady and strong.
Once the anthem ended, the students filed into their classrooms. Zi found his seat as the chatter settled, and the teacher began the day's lesson.