War becomes an unavoidable reality when a nation’s desire for power, resources, or ideology surpasses its desire for peace, rendering compromise an unacceptable sacrifice. The Kingdom—obsessed with wealth, and the Union—undermining individual liberties, both seek to consume us for their own selfish ends.

  —GUREN VON KAISER, HATRED TO THE KINGDOM AND UNION

  ? POV: Genevieve Windsong ?

  A new world wouldn’t be complete without magic—and this one was no exception.

  Magic existed here, divided into five core elements: fire, water, ground, nature, and air. Only a select few could wield them—those known as Casters.

  They weren’t exactly hard to spot either. Casters always carried a telltale mark—their hair or eyes. Unnatural red, blue, brown, green, or white locks—a walking color code for their elemental affinity. I’d even heard of Casters who could manipute two elements at once, but that was more of a freakish rarity than the norm.

  That’s not important now, though. What was important is the man standing in front of me.

  He couldn’t have been more than two years older, but everything about him screamed danger. His hair was a deep, unnatural red—marking him as a Fire Caster.

  His hair was a deep, unnatural red, but it wasn’t vibrant like fmes. It was dark, almost bloodstained, as if the fire had long burned out, leaving only embers and smoke. His abyss-bck irises were as lifeless as a starless sky, his voice devoid of warmth, and his gray military attire… It looked strangely familiar.

  A gray uniform, simir to the Feldgrau worn by the old German Empire. A holster at his hip, carrying a pistol that eerily resembled an M1912. They weren’t perfect replicas, but the simirities were—

  Impossible…! It’s ridiculous!

  This world was still in the equivalent of the 1700s… yet this man, this soldier of the Empire, carried weapons and uniforms that belonged centuries ahead—an entire two hundred years into the future.

  My breath hitched.

  Is this why our soldiers are struggling in the southern front?

  The thought unsettled me, sending a cold prickle down my spine. If the Empire had advanced to what looked like the 1915s era while our forces were still wielding muskets and sabers, then the war had never been fair to begin with.

  No wonder the Lanchester’s Law didn’t make sense… I only know its base form—which assumes both sides have equal technology and capabilities.

  I was a fool!

  I forced a smile, despite the way my mind raced.

  The man’s abyssal gaze nded on me, and suddenly, I felt as though I was standing before a tribunal, awaiting judgment. His gray uniform, his cold, disciplined stance—it all reminded me of those stern Waffen-SS officers from my past life’s history books.

  Seeing such a figure in this alternate version of the Philippines was beyond bizarre. It was downright terrifying.

  “Your daughter seemed disturbed,” he said, voice callous.

  His Majesty—my father—narrowed his eyes, unfazed. “It’s only natural.” Then, his expression hardened. “But we were supposed to meet with the young prince of the Empire,” he continued, his tone firm. “What are you doing here, Guren von Kaiser?”

  Guren? The older brother of the Prince I was supposed to meet? What the hell is happening?

  The red-haired man exhaled sharply, his breath as lifeless as his voice. “I’m attending in his stead.” Then, as if speaking to an equal—or perhaps, someone beneath him—he scoffed. “And I’m telling you to fuck off.”

  A heavy silence fell upon the room. I felt my stomach drop. The knights tensed, hands instinctively moving to their weapons. Alberta went pale, as if some divine wrath would smite her for merely witnessing such audacity.

  But His Majesty didn’t flinch.

  How the hell is this unkempt bastard able to casually tell a king to fuck off in this generation?! Is he the reincarnation of Diogenes or something? This is basically a lèse-majesté!

  Even if my father was technically his enemy, the customs of this era dictated that he at least show some damn respect.

  Yet, the king merely sighed, as if this was expected. “Are you saying you wish to prolong this war?” His Majesty’s tone remained calm, unreadable.

  Guren didn’t take a seat. Instead, he loomed over the king, the sharp contrast between his disheveled form and his cold, disciplined aura making him all the more unbearable.

  “No one wants to prolong a war,” he said, his voice devoid of emotion. “But I don’t trust this arrangement. You may want peace as a king, but what about your Kingdom’s Council?”

  Ah. So that’s it.

  This asshole doesn’t trust our intentions—or rather, he doesn’t trust the intentions of the high officials running this Kingdom.

  I can’t bme him. I’ve never seen a political figures who aren’s fuckass bastards naughty.

  A king doesn’t rule alone. Shouldn’t rule alone. That’s why a council exists—to divide power, keep things in bance. The idea of absolute rule, of a single person holding unchecked control, was insane.

  And yet, the Empire operated under a despotic monarchy, giving all power to one ruler. That was one of the reason why the Kingdom and the Union treated them like a threat—if such a system swallowed all countries, no one else would ever hold power again. That fear alone was enough to keep the fmes of war burning.

  That said, I know full well too that the Councils doesn’t think like my father does. That’s why…

  “But,” I interjected, keeping my voice even, “everyone is at their breaking point. This war has been raging for decades—it’s natural for people to lose themselves to it.”

  Humans crack under pressure. I knew that feeling all too well. That desperation, that endless cycle of struggling just to survive another day…

  But…!

  “But once the war is over,” I continued, gripping my hands into fists, “people will recover. That’s all that matters.”

  A scoff. Low, sharp, cutting.

  “Na?ve.” Guren’s abyss-bck gaze locked onto mine, a void meeting silver. “You think I don’t know what this is about?” His tone was unreadable, yet I felt the weight of every word. “A marriage for peace—how convenient. But that’s not how politics works and I think you know history enough to know this obvious issue.”

  He paused, eyes almost looking at me with pity. “You’re not stopping the war. You’re simply attacking in a different way.” He arched a brow. “While we lower our guard, the Council will sink their cws into our nds, steal our technology. And then what? What happens to the Union?” His voice was like bde, cold and unforgiving.

  The enemy of my enemy is my ally—that’s the Kingdom’s retionship with the Union. And he was right. Even if we achieved peace through marriage, the Union wouldn’t be happy. War wouldn’t end. It would just change.

  The asshole turned on his heel, already heading for the door.

  “I came in my brother’s stead to deliver our refusal.” His voice remained cold, detached—like this whole conversation had been a waste of his time.

  He didn’t acknowledge the knights, didn’t so much as gnce at Alberta still standing tense by the door. As if they were nothing.

  “As if you were fooling anyone, Your Majesty.” He stopped at the threshold, barely sparing us a gnce over his shoulder. “You know the Kingdom will lose.”

  His tone was ft, but his words cut deep. “So you scrambled to pn this out, didn’t you?” A pause. Then, finality. “But it won’t work.”

  Then—sm! The door shook in its frame as he disappeared behind it.

  What the fuck is wrong with him?!

  I turned to my father. His gaze had dropped to the floor, his hands curled into tight fists at his sides. Frustration rolled off him in waves.

  Of course he was frustrated. This was supposed to be a neutral way to end the war. A solution that didn’t require more bloodshed. But even if we went through with it, peace was nothing more than a mirage.

  Ever since he took the throne eighteen years ago, inheriting the mess left behind by his cruel father, he had been searching—desperate—for a way to end this war. Not just to win. Not for power. But to keep the fmes from reaching home. To give our people the peace they deserved.

  A slow, seething anger burned in my chest.

  This world—this life—felt right to me. Like I had been born for it, reborn into it. And yet, they—the Empire, the war, the monsters who reveled in destruction—were threatening to rip it all away.

  I refused.

  I would not stand by and watch it happen.

  I pushed up from my seat, the scrape of my chair breaking the tense silence.

  My father’s gaze snapped up to me, questioning. I met his eyes, my resolve unshakable.

  “Set up a meeting with me and Guren.”

  ? ? ?

  ? POV: Guren von Kaiser ?

  I’m beat. I can’t believe I have to fly all the way here just to cancel a potential way to end the war.

  Not that I’m some warmonger. I don’t care about conquest, and I sure as hell don’t fight for some grand ideal. But my younger brother—the one they pnned to throw into this marriage of convenience—is precious to me. And I refuse to let him be caged for the rest of his life.

  Besides, the Kingdom’s Council wouldn’t have accepted it anyway. I get that their king—unlike his predecessor—actually wants to end this shitshow of a war. I won’t pretend I don’t feel the same. But the rest of them?

  They don’t want peace. They want victory.

  This war didn’t even start over something noble to begin with. It began with fear, spiraled into racism, and eventually devolved into a bloody struggle for nd and resources. Just another textbook example of human stupidity.

  I hate it. I hate them.

  I’m disgusted to be the same species as those who get off on sughter—whether they’re pulling the trigger themselves or sitting comfortably behind a desk, ordering massacres like they’re making a fucking business deal.

  That all said, I’m not an altruist either.

  I exhaled sharply as I strode through the pace halls. “That princess looked pissed at me.”

  Not that I cared. Sheltered girls always rubbed me the wrong way. Not for any logical reason—I just didn’t like them. Call it misogyny or whatever. I just found wise women more attractive.

  As I neared the grand main hall, I spotted a trio of young women, dressed in the same Imperial gray uniform as me. They walked together, chatting, their baskets filled to the brim with sweets.

  Girls and their damn sweet tooth… Not that I could judge. I had one too. But we weren’t here on vacation.

  Should I scold them?

  I gnced at them again. They were ughing, popping bite-sized sweets into their mouths, their multicolored hair shifting under the sunlight.

  One of them caught sight of me. “Ah! Colonel!” she called out, immediately rushing over.

  The other two followed, the warm, sugary scent of their food trailing behind them. My sharp senses picked it up instantly. Rice cakes. Sticky, syrupy, fresh from the market.

  Damn. I kinda wanted one… But I had a role to py.

  As soon as they lined up, I snapped them to attention with a single word:

  “Attention.”

  They stiffened, snapping to formation, baskets tucked neatly behind their backs. We ignored the civilians passing by who gave us wary gazes.

  “Begin headcount.”

  The first to respond was a fiery redhead, her high ponytail swaying as she stepped forward. “01—Lieutenant Adaliria Licta Gottschalk.”

  Next, a woman with long cherry-red hair, her voice clipped and professional. “02—Lieutenant Hilda von Scharfeaugen.”

  Then, a shorter one with dried-blood-red hair, practically grinning. “03—Leni Durchdenwald, at your service!”

  One was missing. That idiot leading the support ptoon. Just as I was about to ask, a fourth figure came stumbling into line, panting.

  “04—Gnade van E… Einsiedlersee…!” she wheezed, barely catching her breath. Her sunset-red twintails were a disaster.

  The rest of them snickered.

  “Geez, Gnadey,” Adaliria huffed, reaching over to fix her hair. “We told you not to be te!”

  “B–But… I wanted to try their rice cakes…!”

  Hilda rolled her eyes. “We already bought some, you idiot.”

  Then—we felt it. A creeping, suffocating weight pressing down on us. Animosity. Hostility. Disgust.

  It slithered into the air like a phantom, unspoken yet deafening. The crowd around us had gone quiet, their gazes heavy with thinly veiled contempt. Passersby stared—not with curiosity, but revulsion. Like we weren’t people—like we were monsters.

  I met their eyes, my gre sharp, daring them to keep looking. They did.

  Adaliria pced a hand against my chest, her warmth grounding me, snapping my rationality back into pce.

  She smiled—gentle, unbothered. “We’re used to it.”

  Leni chuckled, crossing her arms. “That’s right. If they’re gonna hate us, we’ll just have to fight them. And win.”

  I heaved a heavy sigh, focusing. These girls—young, barely past eighteen—were noble-born. They could’ve chosen a safer path. But they didn’t. They chose war.

  The Empire was outnumbered, severely. Over the st forty-five years, their fiancés, their fathers, their brothers—all had died. All that remained were women and the scarce men left behind. And still, they chose to fight.

  Not even I, nor the Emperor himself, had the right to strip them of that pride—that will. It’s all they have left along with the Empire. To have nothing… they can’t bare it—no one can.

  Like I’ve said, I am not an altruist. But I am not a heartless bastard either.

  I can’t pity them. I can’t stop them. If they insisted on fighting—then I would lead them—I would lead what remains of them.

  And I would make damn sure—

  I stepped forward. “Before we leave, I want to decre something.”

  —that none of them die from human hubris!

  My voice cut through the thick, suffocating air of judgment that pressed against us. The aristocrats, the parasites in their gilded cages, the common folk who clung to their hollow righteousness—they all watched—so I made them listen.

  “Comrades!” My voice rang sharp, commanding. Heads turned. The murmurs died. “Free will is the right of all sentient beings. I will cim it. I will protect it. And I know everyone here feels the same.”

  My lieutenants grinned, eyes burning with conviction.

  “The Kingdom. The Union.” I spread my arms wide, addressing the entire room. “They brand us as a threat. And for what? What great crime have we committed?”

  Silence. A tense, waiting pause. Then, I answered myself.

  “Nothing.” A breath. A sharp, cutting exhale. “Precisely because we did nothing wrong. And yet, they demand we surrender. That we kneel. That we abandon our way of life—our will, to fit theirs.”

  Like cornered beasts, we were forced to take up arms. Forced to kill just to protect what was ours. It’s like the world—fate conspired against us. But…

  “I don’t believe in fate.” My voice hardened. “Fate is an excuse for cowards. The only ones to be bmed are the Kingdom’s Council—those spineless, capitalist leeches who would see us wiped off the map. And so once more, I decre…”

  I lowered my arm, letting the words sink in. And just then—perfect timing—the Council members entered hall, their expressions stiff as they gnced toward the commotion.

  I turned to face them, meeting their veiled gres with an easy, knowing smile. This is the moment I will decre…

  “Councils~” I began, my tone almost soft. Almost pleading. Then, with the same breath, I tore off the mask. “I’ll butcher you all to bits and feed your profane remains to the swine of the Imperial sty!”

  Silence.

  Every ounce of color drained from their faces. The crowd gasped, the tension crackling.

  I didn’t hide my irritation—didn’t bother to. It wasn’t like they could touch me. Armistice or not, punishing me would only make them look petty in front of the Emperor they were desperately trying to butter up.

  Behind me, my lieutenants barely held back their smirks, eyes gleaming, waiting for me to finish it.

  “These spineless, bloodsucking royals and aristocrats—parasites! They send their men to die and kill us, all to protect their decadent lifestyles and overflowing coffers!” My words shed against them, my gre slicing through their frail, aging bodies like a sharpened bde.

  Capitalist monarch bastards. They’re the defenders of a dynasty where the privileged few feast on the bor of the many—the champions of a css war where the only victory is the accumution of wealth, no matter the human cost. Filthy leeches who feared foreigners more than they feared bloodshed…

  There’s no getting along with extremist capitalists. Especially if they’re royalties!

  “But we will emerge victorious.” I raised my hand to the side, clenching it into a fist. “And once we take control—” I exhaled through my teeth, dragging out the words— “we will bring them the same justice they forced upon us!”

  In a single, sharp motion, I brought my fist up to my chest in salute as I faced my lieutenants. “We will deliver God’s vengeance! Glory to the Empire!”

  My lieutenants followed, their voices ringing out as one.

  ““““Glory to the Empire!””””

  J_Win