The battlefield was chaotic.
Clang! Clang!
the harsh metalic sound of clashing swords. Groans of the wounded filled the air. Agonized cries of the dying pierced the sky.
Thud… Thud… Thud…
bodies collapsed lifelessly to the ground. The stench of blood hung thick and oppressive.
Smoke curled slowly above the carnage, rising from the corpses of men who had once been hailed as Sword Kings, fighters, and cultivators. Now they were nothing but ash beneath the boots of Aiden Ferith - the War Hero of the Ashenvale Kingdom.
Aiden, the general for whom battlefield tactics were child's play. To whom martial arts was not a necessity, but a passion. Who stood atop the cultivation world at the Martial Emperor realm - a level above even the Martial Saints. A man who loved fiercely and gave generously. Who smiled at children, protected the weak, and never abandoned his comrades.
Now, he stood alone.
His black cloak, torn and tattered, snapped in the wind like a ruined banner. His breaths came shallow but steady. Blood dripped steadily from his massive pitch black claymore — a sword that pulsed with latent menace and power. It hissed softly as its blood-soaked edge touched the scorched earth.
The war had raged for two whole months. But now… at last… victory was within reach.
The famed general of the Nyvarian Empire, Richard Hendriction - called the Sword King - lay dead, a gaping hole in his chest. The empire's king - known for his manipulative cunning and military genius - had been beheaded. Their most formidable warriors, proud Martial Saints, were turned to dust.
All their arrogance and legacy - crushed beneath the gaze of Aiden Ferith.
But why… why did he feel nothing?
Victory sprawled before him, yet it brought no peace, no elation. The roar of battle faded into an aching silence, a void that screamed louder than war - an aching pain in his heart for those he could never embrace again.
Blood still dripped from his wounds and sword cuts, but the only injuries that truly mattered were the ones no blade had inflicted. His loved ones… all taken from him by the very war he had just won.
So he stood, triumphant but hollow - haunted not by the countless enemies he had slain… but by the few he could not protect.
The remaining enemies began to flee. Their leaders were gone, their morale shattered. It was a monumental victory.
And then .....
Crunch.
The soft shift of gravel behind him. He didn't turn. He already knew.
"I see you've come," Aiden said coldly, his voice brittle. He had expected this. But part of him had still prayed he was wrong.
The reply was soft, reverent… and laced with poison.
"I had to, Master. You've become too powerful. Too dangerous."
Aiden turned his head slowly.
Nolan Ashborn — his disciple. The boy he'd raised from nothing. His eyes, once bright with admiration, were now clouded with ambition.
Aiden's face twisted into a sad smile. "So it's you. Of course, it's you."
The betrayal didn't surprise him. It only confirmed a truth he'd tried too long to ignore.
The blade struck fast — a clean thrust through his back.
Steel ripped through his heart. The long sword's tip erupted from his chest in a flood of crimson.
Aiden staggered, blood bubbling in his throat.
"You were my brother…" he gasped, turning around slowly, voice trembling with sorrow.
Nolan's gaze was empty. "And you were a fool. You should've seen it coming."
Aiden coughed violently, blood spraying as he dropped to his knees. He used the sword like a crutch, barely keeping himself from collapsing.
"Why? Why you, of all people?" Aiden's voice was level, but sharp as a blade — carrying his regret, disbelief, and devastation.
He was broken. After losing everything he cherished… even his own disciple — his sworn brother — had turned against him.
He felt dead already.
"I was tired," Nolan replied, voice now colder, yet barely hiding a tremor. "Tired of your shadow. Tired of being just 'Aiden's disciple.' You saved kingdoms, won every war, became a legend. And me? I was always second. You called me brother, but I was never more than your echo."
Aiden's lips curved bitterly. "You think that ever mattered to me?" His eyes shimmered with pain. "You were my brother… my family. I would've given you everything."
"That's the problem," Nolan snapped, his eyes hard. "You had everything to give. I had nothing. Not unless I took it for myself."
Aiden's body trembled. Still, he forced himself to stand. Blood soaked his cloak, running down his chest.
"If all you wanted is power… then you will never find true happiness in life."
"Spare me your dying wisdom," Nolan muttered, looking away.
"No," Aiden said firmly. Though his body waned, his voice burned with steel. "You need to hear this."
He took a step forward — trembling, barely upright — but his eyes gleamed with one last flame.
"You betrayed not just your master. You betrayed your brother. The man who trusted you. Loved you. Believed in you… when no one else ever did."
Nolan hesitated. His jaw clenched.
"I don't hate you, Nolan," Aiden whispered. "I only blame myself."
And with that, the last of his strength faded.
He collapsed to his knees. Then slowly, he fell to his side — his eyes still on Nolan, dimming, not with rage… but sorrow.
Nolan stood frozen. He watched the blood pool around Aiden's body. The silence was deafening.
And for the first time in his life… Nolan felt the crushing weight of victory.
Darkness engulfed Aiden. His thoughts slowed. His regrets surged.
If only I had one more chance. Just one more… to change everything. To stop the betrayal before it took root…
But it was too late.
But then suddenly…..
as the icy hand of death reached for him ….
The sky ripped apart.
And from the void… a voice echoed:
"A soul unyielding… shall not perish."
Darkness swallowed him whole. But somewhere ahead - a glimmer.
A faint light at the end of a tunnel.
His body moved toward it, step by step — driven by one final spark of hope.
To be continued…