The Devastation of the Church

Now that I've turned 15, I've reached a significant stage in my life where I acquire my mana. However, its significance was overshadowed by the fact that everyone already knew I wouldn't possess a substantial amount of mana. Consequently, I resigned myself to simply living my life.

Life in the church proved to be far from easy. Each day, I would wake up and engage in the arduous task of cutting wood, which I would then sell in the nearest city. The church itself was destitute, lacking the means to provide for the children. As a result, the older kids had to seek employment. Among them were Yona, a gentle and carefree girl who sought to relish the present, and she worked in the potato fields. Another child, Dimo, took pleasure in teasing Yona due to her perceived lack of intelligence. He had a penchant for women and had made unsuccessful advances towards them since he was young. Dimo worked as a blacksmith. I, on the other hand, was the third child.

Upon arriving in this world, I found myself inhabiting a different body altogether. I became a slender and athletic boy, standing tall at 6.13 feet, with long limbs and broad shoulders. My hands were strong and capable, their fingertips bearing the marks of labor. I possessed medium-length wavy hair, flowing in a black hue just past my ears. My face bore indistinct features, and my bright blue eyes were often cast downwards. Within the confines of the church, I remained quiet and reserved, preferring to observe and listen rather than speak out. My movements were graceful and fluid, and my gestures deliberate and controlled.

One day, as was my routine, I woke up and set off to the city to sell the wood. However, this time, I noticed the absence of the Dwaren defenders who were tasked with protecting the countryside from any potential attacks. Nevertheless, I didn't dwell on it too much, for I knew there was little of value in our village or any others. When I ventured into the woods, I discovered a lack of animals, and numerous footprints etched into the ground. Curiosity piqued, I headed straight to the city to investigate the cause. What awaited me was a horrifying scene: the entire city lay in ruins, buildings reduced to rubble, and its inhabitants deceased. The grass itself seemed stained with blood, and all I could see were lifeless corpses strewn about, torn apart by some unknown force. Flanking me were soldiers clad in different uniforms—one side representing the Dwaren defenders, the other the Arorium military. It was then that I realized the two kingdoms had engaged in war. Yet, something seemed amiss about the ease with which the conflict had concluded. Determined to uncover the truth, I inspected the fallen Dwaren defenders, only to be taken aback.

The dead soldiers were not soldiers at all; they were the homeless individuals. Bewildered, I approached the Aurorium soldiers to examine their fallen comrades, and to my astonishment, they too had been ambushed from behind. In that moment, a realization dawned upon me—I understood the situation.

The Dwaren defenders had been aware of the impending attack, but time had not allowed them to seek assistance. Knowing that the homeless people would seek shelter and clothing, they had evacuated their headquarters. When the enemy arrived, they mistook the homeless for the defenders and launched an assault from behind. However, I was aware that they would employ the same tactic in our village. With great haste, I raced back, and after five long days, I finally arrived at my destination. Yet, what awaited me was nothing but profound sadness.

Regrettably, it was too late. The once-proud battlefield now lay in ruins, a haunting testament to the savagery of war. The ground was littered with the shattered remnants of lives once full of hope and dreams. The air hung heavy with the acrid scent of decay, a chilling reminder of the countless lives that had been extinguished.

As I stepped cautiously through the desolation, a mournful symphony echoed in my ears. The cacophony of crows filled the sky, their shrill cries blending with the whispers of the wind. They swarmed like a dark omen, perching upon the broken bodies, their beady eyes cold and relentless.

But amidst this macabre scene, there stood the remnants of the church, once a sanctuary of solace and tranquility, now a twisted carcass of its former glory. Its walls crumbled, bearing witness to the brutality that had transpired within its sacred confines. My heart wrenched with each step, knowing that the innocent souls who sought refuge here had met a gruesome fate.

I dared to gaze upon the lifeless forms that littered the ground, their once vibrant spirits now silenced forever. It was then, in that heart-wrenching moment, that the full extent of the horror became apparent. The evidence of unspeakable acts unfolded before me, as the ravages of war bore witness to the violated bodies of the women. Anguish enveloped my very being, overwhelming me with a torrent of emotions I forgot a long time ago.

Sadness gripped me, its weight crushing my soul. Remorse gnawed at the depths of my being, taunting me with the unbearable burden of guilt. Anger ignited within me, fueling a righteous fury that sought justice for the fallen. And in the midst of it all, a sense of profound helplessness engulfed me, mocking any semblance of control or power I had believed myself to possess.

Paralyzed by the enormity of the tragedy, I stood there, a witness to the desolation and suffering. The scenes etched into my memory with a cruel permanence, tormenting my every waking moment. I cursed my own existence, cursing the fates that had led me to this wretched place, and cursing the gods who allowed such atrocities to befall the innocent.

When the fog of despair finally lifted, I mustered the strength to honor the fallen. With trembling hands and a heavy heart, I dug graves in the hallowed ground, gently laying each broken body to rest. .

As I stood there, surrounded by the solemn silence of the woods, uncertainty clouded my path. The road ahead remained shrouded in darkness, its destination unknown. Yet, with a flicker of resilience.