2027.
The story begins in the heat of battle. The warlord, his armor gleaming in the sunlight, stood proud at the head of his mighty army. Their banners billowed in the wind, and their weapons glinted with anticipation.
But the warlord was blind to the discontent that simmered in the ranks. He saw only their obedience, not their quiet resentment at his cruelty and selfishness. As they marched forward, he dreamed of victory and glory, ignorant of the seeds of revolt that had already been sown. When the enemy struck, it was swift and merciless.
As the warlord watched in horror, his soldiers turned their backs on him, disappearing into the chaos of battle. His cries of command fell on deaf ears, his pleas for loyalty unheeded.
And so, alone and abandoned, the warlord faced the enemy. His foolishness had cost him everything. He had traded loyalty for fear, and now he reaped the bitter harvest of his own hubris.
The enemy cut him down without mercy. His body was left to rot on the battlefield, forgotten by the men he had once led.
But the story does not end there.
As the warlord lay dying, he had a vision. He saw the ghosts of his former soldiers, the men he had betrayed, surrounding him.
“Why?” he cried, his voice little more than a whisper. “Why did you abandon me in my hour of need?”
And the ghosts answered, their voices a chorus of sorrow and regret.
“You were not a leader, but a tyrant. You did not care for us, but only for your own glory.”
“You may have had our obedience, but you never had our hearts. When the enemy came, we saw a chance for freedom, and we took it.”
“You are alone because you made yourself alone. You reap what you sow, and what you have sown is nothing but pain and betrayal.”
“May your story serve as a warning to all those who lead with arrogance and cruelty.”
“May you find no peace, in life or in death.”
