A macabre game.

A city in ruins, wood burning or being the executioner of people falling from above, stone chipped or breaking on impact from the abrupt blows, accompanied by sinister laughter as blood rose from the back of the spinning stone or the puddles it left in its wake. darkness taking human form, beginning a rapid looting, devouring every valuable object it could find. Weapons were the first to go. They passed like a crowd welcoming a hero, sweeping away everything in their path, as if fleeing from a beast amid greedy laughter as they noticed more supplies to be had in the warehouses.

The crowds are still fleeing, the white carriages and carts leaving the burning lands, some lamenting the abandoned crops and those that were soon stained red by the fire, sending up black smoke that turned to ash or merged with the dark soil, ruined or wasted, it no longer made sense to stay and tend to them. With life at stake, is there not a risk that must be taken?

Others were indifferent and saddened by the simple fact that they did not have time to collect their belongings and wondered how they would recover them. Some desperate people were restrained by the white guard, crying out for missing relatives or those seen in the distance before a dark shadow descended and carried them away like a bird of prey catching a fish and dropping the lifeless body, crashing into houses or the ground itself.

The warriors who formed the front line wore light clothing, a shirt and a sweatshirt and some fabric or wooden shoes, as well as a white tunic and a white circle design, stained with blood or mud, depending on their arrival at the conflict, even had bandages that continued to bleed, reminding everyone that things could be even worse if their enemies were not fighting and only comforted by having the praetor in front of them, although those most determined to survive did not take their eyes off the ruined city about to unleash its evils.

As in a recurring troop inspection, the praetor walked ahead of the last line of the white guard and the few brave or angry civilians who had joined them, wearing white armor and carrying a shiny silver sword with the blade at shoulder height. Soon the light from the sword split, like a liquid guided by the wind and settling on the very weapons of his warriors and the few metal areas of the inhabitants of Lasha, mostly young people or children who made little or no difference if a demon came to confront them.

In the temple, a saint impaled on the stained glass window and all those sheltered there praying and begging for some chance of salvation, while they hear the chaos outside and approaching, only to find that fear paralyzes them to the same extent that their devotion increases, even among those standing in the ruins of what was once the first mural of the Saint, and except for the difference in comfort, nothing assured them of seeing a new dawn.

For the noble houses, things were more complicated. Few refugees arrived, and the guards, although driven mad with fear, held their ground. Only the arrival of a stone as big as they were managed to make them fall prey to fear, as they watched the raven-haired girl arrive, wearing black armor rusted at the edges and elegant clothing, a purple dress that was too big for her, a white jacket with shiny black metal medals, hair that reached her hips, and eyes with inverted colors, an iris as white as milk and a sclera tinged with the same black as space.

Her childlike gait could only be seen as she took small jumps and pronounced steps with her hands just above the barrel with each stroke, the opposite of her walk, like a macabre dance as she noticed how the darkness that accompanied her changed every so often with one or another of the many people in the crowd, concerned for their own well-being and just walking behind the crowd and watched over by another. The most damaged moved around behind them, all well-dressed and slightly out of line before the rush moved them all.

Lined up as if they were a collection from which anyone could choose and discard at will, if they didn't pay attention to the invitation to dance and the music that stopped as soon as the line was complete, I reached the gates and, clearly annoyed, snapped my fingers and they were pulled by hands emerging from behind, bent into cones that crashed into the mansion. I just waited a little while at the entrance.

“Casa Carel, I've come to pick up my order,” I say, still marveling at the decoration on the door. “Let me take you to my sweet party.”

The doors were opened, and the young people of the mansion came out well dressed, servants, children of nobles, even slender knights, and they lined up, uncomfortable and frightened, as each one had seen battles or participated in them.

“How generous.” She bowed her head, her fingers intertwined, and let herself fall, while darkness formed around her like a moving root. She examined them indirectly, some moaning in fear, others more serene, and like a midnight apparition, she grabbed the one she considered most beautiful and left to join her audience. Guys, one, two, three, to the waltz of beauty, my practice cannot wait any longer, my date awaits me. A melodious and hypnotic voice passed as they marched again.

Their eyes were filled with darkness, and they saw that imposing hall, the elegance, the red rose petals on the shiny golden marble, and the windows crowned with light, while the bards and musicians played a sweet and lively melody, but at the same time romantic, as the whole scene moved forward again and the welcome emerged from the darkness, armor polished beyond necessity and a clear response: they had to arrive, because the last in line was dragged into the darkness amid screams, and the same happened to the one who tried to run.

“Let's go to my fiancé's house, the House of the Sun.” proclaimed the lady in white, shrouded in darkness and with shiny silver hair, falling in love once again childishly, if it weren't for her height and physical development.

Outside, the groups arrived ready to participate in the war, but not on the promised side. They simply marched with their metal weapons now visible in a clear glow, and shortly thereafter they found Lasha burning. Its entrance had been secured as promised, and once inside, they went to the first house they found, which was empty, as if it had been evacuated. Many felt insulted that there was nothing left, when they finally found the White Guard troops.

"Chief of the Arbos tribe, I am glad to see you at last".

“Warrior, where is the enemy? The sooner you avenge my warriors, the sooner I can leave.”

"Over there..." Before he could finish, his head rolled toward the house.

“This way, we will claim what we can from Lasha and leave.”

As soon as they spotted the troops in the distance, they stopped running and continued walking almost without difficulty, while the general presented himself at the front.

“Warriors of Arbos, follow me. The contingency plans are nearing completion. With your troops, it will be easier to deal with the demons.”

“Yes.”

I went inside and shortly after reaching the passageway, I attacked the general. Another head rolled as I threw it out the window, and all the warriors attacked the Arasel mansion. The few guards who had time to defend themselves were easily overcome, and shortly after flooding the hunt, they took out quite a few weapons and some pieces of armor, along with a vault half-filled with supplies.

“Everything is in order, my lord. It seems we will have no problems with the arrival of the white cloak.”

“Good.”

For a moment, a roar from outside made him think that the demons had arrived, but the darkness was still half-lit by the few fires, and he ordered a quick retreat.

When they reached the entrance, they noticed that the demolished house was a problem, and the fallen guards did little to calm the situation.

“Damn it, clear the rubble.”

“SIR, LEFT ENEMIES!”

He turned to the right in a hurry and saw a careless group, prominent wounds and blood covering their bodies, and the few pieces of metal glistening in a terrifying ruby red. They ran like a pack of hungry animals, waiting for their first prey to eat in days. They saw one fall and then become part of the floor itself as he was pulverized into pieces. while fear began to greet the warriors.

“Form a defense.”

They put their shields in front and waited, when finally, among the many snorts and screams that collided with each other, something was heard clearly.

“Blood for Mars, bones for Ares.”

“An oath?”

“It sounds more like a war chant to me.”

“Some kind of battle cry?”

“Be quiet, it's time to defend ourselves.”

Everyone saw them arrive, forces clashed, spears and swords pierced flesh, while bodies tried to snatch shields and weapons in improper grips of the blade, only to notice how gaps were forming and with that how they reached a hand-to-hand battle that was easier to deal with.

The small war lasted 30 minutes, during which the screams and chants were confused, and a strange red sand scattered. Finally, when the last ones were present, badly wounded and with the loot thrown aside, they thought about resting. Of the almost 80 warriors he brought, only four remained, including him.

“You bastard, Lasha will pay for this affront with blood.”

“My lord, they do not bear the emblem of this kingdom. Perhaps they are the invaders.”

“It doesn't matter. We're leaving.”

They walked through the streets, along the same path they had seen the enemy arrive, only to find carnage at the entrance, warriors facing the few remnants who cried out for blood for their goddess and bones as offerings to their god.

They didn't hesitate, they helped them and finished them off.

“Caleb, Lord of Arbos! what the hell is going on here?!” He helped the warrior to his feet roughly.

"My lord, they took us by surprise, they came out of nowhere, they started killing, Lord Katari held them back, the main house has been lost, the daughter has left to inform the white guard".

“And this...” A weapon pierced his chest, next to the same soldier he was barely holding up, and for a moment he thought of the betrayal of one of his own, only to witness the sand forming a head and where the eyes should have been, there was a sinister hollow. “By Alb...”

He fell to the floor, only to notice how his warriors sought to avenge him and how more were forming, giving them battle, and soon more screams so familiar that it was impossible not to recognize them. He saw them arriving through the exit, groups as large as his own when they entered, all with the same lack of care in their clothing, the foaming rage in their almost cacophonous screams, the unmistakable ruby glow on their weapons. As soon as they reached the entrance, they began to crush each other in their attempt to get through, like a wall of hands searching for any glimmer of life to blind, and unfortunately for him, his leg was caught.

Amidst screams and pleas, the armor was removed, blood spilling from the cuts and weapons stuck in the flesh, like a butcher trying to cut out chunks of meat for sandwiches. Shortly after, only remains were scattered here and there, while the wood of the bars weighed heavily, and only his head was found to pass through one of the larger bars and was soon collected, crowning a pile of skulls and bones with a white chair in front of it where the leader sat.

“Demons are formidable warriors, face them in groups.” He extended his palm toward the burning castle and the half-destroyed city. “May the Holy Mars quench her thirst with the blood of our enemies and may the great Ares grant us his rage.” He clenched his fist and everyone cheered again. “Fight! The god of war sees us and grants us his fury. Holy Mars demands blood.” His last words echoed as if some demon had decided that the leader was worthy of possession, while the creatures of sand handed him the largest weapons they could recover in their limited space.

His closest subordinates nodded and set off with smaller groups, but always leading them with the same cry. “BLOOD FOR MARS, BONES FOR ARES!”

The winged creatures enjoyed every hunt, until they encountered the insubstantial shadows and the arrows damaged them, while they put an end to their home by finding bloodied warriors, beautiful trophies, until they reached the first ones and were knocked down by sheer force of numbers, and soon bones formed new armor, wings formed capes, a safe distance.

“General, the new human factions are causing us problems in the troops.”

“I know, Alak. Regroup the troops. The humans have defeated us. We will retreat and return in the morning. I see no great benefit in killing them today, and more importantly, they are killing each other.”

“As you command.”

He took the horn from his belt and blew it with all his might, while everyone regrouped and among them, the favorite son finally arrived.

“Father, a human is resisting at the temple. He has taken the lives of two of my brothers.”

“That's a shame.” The hand moved so quickly to the chest and removed the core. "I don't need weak children."

Once the demonstration of power was over, he left with the troops, and afterwards darkness claimed its path among the trees, only to encounter warriors and some still carrying supplies. The inhabitants of Lasha whimpered and begged as much as the lashes and the order for silence was demanded, and after reaching the head, he rested near the largest tree almost in the center of their camp.

“The light has gone out.”

Golden edges appeared around the screen, dividing it into three parts, showing the other two final bosses. After the intro, the game's start screen, a young man in a black uniform with white edges and pleasant companions at his side, along with a rapid succession of interactions with these characters, all of whom were at the front of the academy at the end. “We are the children of the future,” he said, while a splattered space of blood and the sound of ambulances passed by, along with the murmurs of horrified people.

“Damn, why did I decide to start my new part...?”

The young man there could only worry, as he noticed the problems of his numbness, the rain bothered him, and with the little time he had left, he remembered his past, books and more books, work and more work, the absence of a helping hand or acquaintance, only the indifference of so many people around him and work, instant food, a room with barely a bed and memories on a shelf, books and a desk with a laptop at the back, text files and work texts with numbers he never understood and names he never knew from the company he didn't seem to like any more than his classmates.

The movement of the stretcher, the ambulance, and just noticing people around him told him that things could get worse. As he was about to get his bearings, he noticed that there were people around him and then no one, a white room and lots of people watching. He felt movement in his stomach and higher up.

“Hopefully next time will be better.”