The field of broken dreams

Copper hangs in the air.

Iron clashing against iron, a sound so constant, so thoroughly repeated throughout the entire field that the brain begins to register such an unnatural sound as normal. A piece of the puzzle that is the battlefield. Thousands of soldiers come here as their final resting place, yet it never has a definite time and place, all that is constant is that blood will be spilled.

Knights drafted from a young age coming here full of ambition and leaving with something lost that could never truly be retrieved or never return at all. Yet we can't even be spared the time to mourn such young souls lost so soon, for this cruel world could never truly allow it… At least not until their ultimate mission was done, seeing this war through to the end.

Indeed, this war was started by someone other than humans, someone who had a much better grasp on magic and alchemy than humans and as such completely stripped them of their population, the only thing they had an advantage in. With a decline in population comes desperation, for the stubborn human wish to win needed to be fed. As such, children ripped away from the joyful days of childhood have to fight in the war.

He was no exception, as his own sword clashed against the chakram of the elf solider. Another slash whizzes across his face which was glistening in sweat, blonde hair slicken with sweat laid across his eyes in careless abandon. His own iron sword was getting more and more chipped every time he defended an attack. He needed to end it soon, his stamina couldn't take much more.

Parrying the one of the twin chakrams, he let the sword drop, holding it backward and slashed straight across the neck. It was a reckless move, for if he missed it was over for him. 'Please let it work' he thought, pleaded in his mind and then-

Darkness