The Battlefield Aftermath

  The sun creeps over the blood-soaked battlefield. The remnants of the enemy forces have vanished, leaving behind only questions and fallen warriors. The air is thick with the scent of iron and smoke as the guilds tend to their wounded.

  Cain (gritting his teeth, clenching his fists): "Damn it... We won, but it doesn’t feel like a victory."

  Garrick (kneeling beside Hanzo, pressing down on his wound): "Stay with us, kid. You hear me?"

  Elena (scanning the retreating enemies, gripping her sword tightly): "They left without finishing us off. Why?"

  Darius Valen (arms crossed, staring at the horizon): "They weren’t trying to win. This was a warning."

  The battlefield is littered with the fallen—both allies and enemies. Healers scramble to stabilize the wounded, but the real damage isn’t just physical. The guilds are left questioning everything.

  Hanzo is barely conscious, his breath shallow. A stretcher carries him back toward the kingdom’s gates as his allies run alongside him.

  Cain (running beside the stretcher): "Get the healers! NOW!"

  Garrick (clenching his fists): "Who the hell were those assassins?"

  Elena (whispering, voice filled with guilt): "I should have been faster… I should have seen it coming."

  Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.

  Hanzo’s body is cold, but deep inside, something stirs. A faint, unfamiliar heat pulses in his chest.

  Darkness. A heavy void. Hanzo drifts in an endless abyss. Vague figures appear in his mind—blurred faces, a burning battlefield, voices echoing in the void.

  Mysterious Voice (calm, yet disappointed): "You are not ready… not yet."

  Hanzo (gasping, struggling to respond): "Who… who are you?"

  Mysterious Voice: "A shadow of what you should become."

  A surge of pain courses through him, pulling him back toward consciousness. Just before everything goes black, he hears a name—one he does not recognize, but one that shakes his soul.

  The guild leaders gather in the war room, their faces dark with frustration and concern.

  Darius Valen (slamming his fist on the table): "This wasn’t just an attack. It was a test!"

  Garrick (gritted teeth): "Then what the hell were they testing? Our defenses? Our resolve?"

  Cain (arms crossed, voice low): "No… They were testing him. Hanzo."

  Elena (eyes widening): "But why?"

  Darius (sighing, leaning back): "Because there’s something about him we don’t understand yet."

  A heavy silence falls over the room. The weight of the unknown presses on them.

  In the healer’s ward, Hanzo’s pulse remains weak. His chest rises and falls in shallow breaths. The guilds stand outside, waiting, knowing that whatever happens next will change everything.

  Garrick (gripping his sword, standing at Hanzo’s bedside): "Rest up, kid. We’re not done yet."

  Cain (murmuring as he looks out the window): "Who were those assassins… and why do they care about Hanzo’s lineage?"

  The enemy may have retreated, but the real war has only just begun.