The sky hadn't yet brightened, but the horizon was already burning—crimson, like a fresh wound.
A new day was being born in blood.
And perhaps, it would be the last for this world.
Sam stood atop the hill.
Below him stretched endless, perfect lines—thousands of them.
Humans. Elves.
Marching under the same banners. Singing the same psalms.
Their faces twisted with fanaticism.
Their armor gleamed in the morning gloom, lips murmuring holy verses.
Divine magic pulsed through the air like unseen chains.
Not a shield—
A leash.
"They call us heretics," Sam murmured.
"But who gave them the right to decide who deserves to live?"
The wind carried the sound of approaching footsteps.
The army of faith was close.
Behind him stood the others.
The cursed. The exiled. The betrayed.
Dwarves—clad in heavy armor, forged of steel and fury.
Beastkin—with fangs bared, and eyes that remembered the night.
Dark elves—shadows incarnate, their pupils glowing crimson.
And at the front—him.
Sam.
His cloak trailed behind him, black as the ash of a forgotten past.
In one hand, a curved blade like a beast's fang.
In the other, a pulsing flame of sapphire blue.
He took a breath.
"Amplify voice," he whispered into the spell.
"Warriors!" His voice thundered across the field.
"They burned us. Banished us. Buried us.
But we survived."
"Today, we show them what it means to be free.
Not for them.
Not for the gods.
For us."
"Today is not the day of forgiveness.
It is the day of reckoning."
He looked up at the sky.
Searching for something that would never return.
Forgive me, little one…
That's what the old man always called you.
Forgive me for not saving you in time.
Sam closed his eyes. Drew in a breath—
as if he could still recall that scent.
Those eyes, deep as the ocean.
Sapphire.
The enemy army moved.
The earth trembled beneath their righteous march.
Sam gripped his sword.
The blue fire flared, dancing across the scars on his skin.
"Everything ends today."
The sky darkened with arrows.
Prayers turned into war cries.
"Hold the line!"
Dwarves slammed their shields.
Beastkin growled.
Dark elves vanished into shadow.
Sam raised his blade.
Flames roared into the heavens.
"Advance!"
And the world was swallowed in steel, magic, and screams.
***
Sam surged forward.
His blade tore through armor.
His fire devoured flesh.
He was the storm.
Then—he saw him.
A figure in snow-white armor.
Face hidden behind a golden mask.
A sword radiant as the sun.
A verdict made flesh.
Sam froze.
The sky split open—ripped as if by a blade.
Something divine descended in light and thunder.
White robes. A shining sword. That golden mask.
"…Santias," Sam muttered, biting his lip.
Santias stepped forward.
His voice cut through the air like frost.
"You've challenged fate for too long.
It ends today."
Sam raised his sword.
"I was just a normal guy.
But now…
I'll burn everything connected to you."
The blue flame ignited.
Wind rose, scattering ash—
and memories.
***
When did it all go wrong?
When did I become this?
What if… I had saved her?
He remembered the day.
The mud. The screams. The blood.
And her—clinging to life. To him.
Sapphire eyes.
Burned into his memory forever.
***
Two warriors.
Two fates.
Swords blazed.
And the battle began.