The Price Of Wearing A Crown

Fated

From atop the hill, the view of the battlefield was both awe-inspiring and terrifying. The clash of swords and shields created a deafening roar that echoed through the valley. The air was thick with the stench of death and sweat, making it almost unbearable to breathe. Amidst the chaos, the crown prince stood tall, his golden hair glinting in the sun. His eyes were fixed on the enemy army, the Delmans. With a fierce battle cry, he charged forward, his sword raised high above his head, and his troops followed closely behind him, ready to face whatever lay ahead on the battlefield.

The clash was brutal, with both sides pushing against each other in a desperate struggle for victory. The crown prince fought with valor and skill, his blade slicing through the enemy ranks with ease. He dodged and parried blows that came at him from all directions, never once faltering in his resolve.

As the battle raged on, the crown prince's annoyance grew towards the enemy, who seemed to be a never-ending pain in his ass. He cursed under his breath, promising to make them pay for every drop of blood spilled. His frustration only fueled his determination to lead his troops to victory, and he continued to give clear and concise directions, strategizing every move in his head.

Despite the overwhelming number of enemies, the crown prince's combat skills were unmatched. It was clear that the prince's body was well accustomed to the intense fighting. His movements were swift and precise, his reflexes sharp and unyielding. Even as he fought tirelessly, he remained calm and focused, his mind working quickly to assess the situation and strategize his next move.

His soldiers looked on in awe as he single-handedly pushed back the enemy forces. With every swing of his sword, he vented his anger and frustration, crushing his enemies underfoot. With each passing moment, it became increasingly clear that victory would be theirs if they continued to follow their leader's lead. And so, they fought on, with the crown prince at their helm, driving back their enemies with a fierce determination that left no room for doubt or hesitation.

After seven years of being in constant battle and war, the prince did not falter or flinch. He refused to back down or compromise on his values, rolling like a dog through the battlefield and leaving behind a trail of defeated foes. Though the war had taken its toll on him physically and emotionally, he continued to lead his troops to victory every time, like a true leader.

But as the battle drew on, he couldn't help but wonder when it would all end. He had longed for peace and quiet for so long that he could barely remember what it felt like. He was so used to violence that it became an inseparable part of him.

The thought of being able to rest without the need to wield his sword was a distant dream, enough to be unreachable. He had fought countless battles and faced numerous enemies, each one leaving him more exhausted than the last, but the weariness in his bones and the scars on his skin reminded him that he was only human. As much as he wanted to live as such, he persisted because he had vowed to keep his promise to his deceased mother, the first empress.

Until he became the perfect Emperor she wished him to be, he vowed to never give up, no matter how difficult the journey may be. It was a promise that kept him going, even in the darkest of times. For her, he shall continue through hell alone until the day hell freezes over and he can finally lay down his sword and rest in peace.

The fighting continued, with the clash of swords and the screams of the wounded filling the air. He had lost count of how many enemies he had slain and how many times he had narrowly escaped death. The exhaustion was taking its toll on him; his arms were heavy, and his movements were slowing down. But he knew he couldn't give up now, not when victory was within reach. He took a deep breath and charged forward, determined to end the battle once and for all.