"The Last Step Towards Peace"
The rain never stopped. The gloomy sky hung, heavy with black clouds that seemed to refuse to open the curtain of dawn. The ground had become a sea of mud, every step leaving a wet and painful sound, as if the earth itself was reluctant to bear witness to this journey.
But in the midst of the raging storm, someone continued to walk.
His body was wrapped in a long gray robe that had been torn by time and war. Dirt, dust, and blood stained the once sacred symbol of Helios, the light. But now there was no more light, only the long shadow of sacrifice.
Cerces of Helios.
A young man.
A dreamer.
And a bearer of wounds.
He did not start his journey from happiness or noble desires. No. His dream was born from blood, iron, and the screams of those who were unable to fight fate. He started not because he wanted to be a hero, but because the world forced him to choose: stay silent and die... or fight and change.
Seven years have passed.
Seven years of blood, betrayal, and nearly shattered faith.
Now, their final steps will be determined in one place.
Sylvaria Castle.
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[Sylvaria Castle]
The majestic building stands in the distance, silent but menacing.
Its walls that once welcomed nobles and knights are now covered in vines that seem to swallow the proud architecture of humanity. The crevices of the stone are filled with moss, cracks, and traces of destruction. Bones are scattered between giant pillars blackened by embers and time.
Cerces stands frozen.
The wind blows his robes, the rain wets his face, but he does not blink.
That place is the end of everything, the end of suffering, or the end of hope.
And he knew, once one step was taken, there would be no turning back.
"This would be the end for all of us…"
His words were drowned out by the roar of the rain.
He did not look back, but from his gaze, his followers knew that Cerces was fighting. Not against an enemy, but against his own fear.
Fear… that what awaited them inside was not victory.
But emptiness.
Or hell.
He took a deep breath, staring at the dark castle gates.
Then, in a voice that echoed over the roar of thunder, he said:
"I will step forward… and I will win."
There was no cheering. No applause.
Just the sound of shoes sinking into the mud as he stepped forward followed by those who swore loyalty, even though the end was near.
Sylvaria Castle…
Once a symbol of human splendor, the pinnacle of civilization and hope…
Now a monument to tragedy and death.
Step by step toward the great castle doors.
And as the storm reached its peak, the world shook.
Behind Cerces, they stood in silence.
The five remaining followers of the hundreds, if not thousands, who had once raised their flags and believed in his way. Some held their weapons with trembling hands, others bowed their heads, praying to the gods they had long since abandoned. Rain poured down on their faces, but none retreated. They were no longer an army; they were the remnants of a long struggle that had survived not by strength, but by a will harder than steel.
There was Valthia, the elven sorceress who had lost her ability to feel, having seen her homeland burned by the hand of power.
There was Luther, the knight who had once rejected Cerces, but gave his life after realizing that the young man's dream was holier than any flag.
And there were others. All carried wounds. All carried stories. But today… there was no new story.
Only one final chapter to be written.
Cerces closed his eyes. Behind them, the past emanated the screams of fallen friends in the eastern snowfields, the sound of steel clashing in the Vale of Kainon, and the dark nights when he had nearly taken his own life to silence his guilt. Seven years of struggle were not just blood and war, but also a battle against the emptiness in his soul.
He opened his eyes. Looking back at the castle in front of him.
Sylvaria Castle, where it all began.
The place where the king died. The beginning of a disaster and a dark power that had never been understood.
A bitter irony: the place that was once a symbol of hope for the world, now became the gateway to final destruction.
He took one more step… then stopped.
Doubt bit his chest.
Would all this really end as he imagined?
Would the world be at peace after this?
Or… would the world only remember him as a mad rebel who wanted to destroy the order?
His hands clenched. His robes were soaked. But his eyes remained burning not with conviction… but with the courage to keep moving forward.
"I am not a hero…" he whispered to himself.
"I am just someone who chooses not to die in silence."
Thunder rumbled in the sky, shaking the earth beneath them.
Mist crept from the cracks in the ground, even though it was not yet time for the mist to descend.
The wind changed direction. The air grew colder… chilling to the bone.
Cerces stopped in his tracks again.
Something was wrong.
"Stop."
His voice was firm, and his followers immediately held their breath.
The air felt heavy. Silence suddenly enveloped the world, as if nature itself was holding its breath.
Even the rain sounded quieter than before.
The mist rolled slowly, covering their feet, encircling the castle entrance.
"Is this magic?" Luther whispered.
"No," Cerces replied softly.
"This is… something older than magic."
Suddenly, a CRACKING sound was heard…
The great gates of Castle Sylvaria that had been closed for years began to move.
Without a single hand touching them, the old wood and metal creaked, slowly opening… revealing the darkness beyond.
From within, there was nothing to be heard.
No enemies. No cries. No war.
Just… silence. A terrifying silence. A silence deadlier than thousands of troops.
Cerces took a deep breath. His heart was pounding.
But he kept moving forward.
"I will step… and I will win," he repeated. This time, in a firm voice.
Without warning, his followers stepped behind him.
There was no time for prayer. No room for regret.
The castle gates greeted them like a giant maw hungry for victims.
And as their first steps touched the stone floor of the castle,
the heavens roared… as if mourning their fate.
The final step toward peace… had begun.