Prologue

A series of World War One-esque trenches cut through a field of red mud. Bodies dot the landscape, with the occasional explosion providing light that glistens off the gnarled metal that once protected them. A small fire ball flies into the air, as a line of medieval soldiers charges forward yelling at their enemies. As if in response to this, a red fire ball launches from the enemy side. The charging soldiers stop dead in their tracks, as some start yelling and running back to their trench.

Over the trenches on the enemies side, thousands of fireballs much bigger than the ones used to signal come barreling forth, crashing amongst the ranks of soldiers, tearing some to shreds and dousing others in flames so hot their armor starts to glow red hot. Screams and smoke fill the air as a blue fireball is fired from the enemy's trenches.

A wall of water starts to appear in front of the now-dead soldiers' trenches. It towers over fifty meters tall and moves forward, drowning the trenches and any soul unfortunate enough to still be in them.

As soon as the trenches are sufficiently filled, a purple fire ball is launched from the enemies side. Thousands of purple runes glow in the dark, illuminating the soldiers peering over the enemy trenches. Lightning barrels forth crashing into the water with several loud cracks. Then all is silent.

The soldiers now lie burned, drowned, or electrocuted. Filling the air with the stench of blood, sweat, and cooked meat. A young man steps out of a tent behind the enemy trenches, followed by an older gentleman dressed in plate armor.

"My liege," the gentleman speaks, "I believe you are victorious."

The young man looks out towards the destruction with a smile on his face. His glowing green eyes shining in the night like a predator on the hunt.

A whizzing sound is heard passing over the trenches as the young man reaches his hand out. With the sound of crunching leather, the young man grabs an arrow out of the air just before it could pierce his head.

He looks at the arrow and states, "I don't believe the enemy has surrendered yet. So long as they send more young men to die, I am more than happy to water this field with their blood and fertilize it with their corpses."

With a crack, he breaks the arrow in two. The arrow-head has a red crystal embedded into it as it falls head first into the dirt.

"Until I see a white flag flying over those trenches, I want every man who passes that trench line dead. Perhaps I'll make this into a beautiful field of flowers for my dear sister to enjoy."

The young man walks back into his tent as the gentleman starts barking orders. The young man looks at himself in the mirror. His light green hair, glowing green eyes, and slightly pale skin make him look similar to an elf. However, his slightly muscular build and height at six feet and a half gives him a more manly look than the beautiful elves.

"Looking good!" He states to himself as he walks over to his desk. He takes out a glass and pours what seems to be mead into it. He takes a sip, relishing the flavor. As soon as he puts the glass down, the sound of exploding fireballs is heard.

"Heh," he scoffs, "these bastards just don't know when to quit do they?"