Essence of Demise | ThirdUnion

34: Sinful Greed

The world felt so dark. It wasn't a normal kind of darkness, the moon wasn't out, yet it was like it was missing the inky clouds.

There was something about gray fields and black soil that was calming yet alerting.

Charcoal was mixing into every color around, dipping into the water and coating it evenly with its black paint.

This wasn't exactly intentional. To make everything like this, to turn his world into this. But now, it appeared more than ever that his wrath was endless. Even his own people weren't safe from the destructive nature of the Union.

It wasn't as pleasing as it usually was to see. Perhaps because the Soviet hadn't meant for this to get so out of hand this time.

He glanced around silently for a moment, taking in the burnt wood and rubbish excuse of broken buildings.

Fire was so destructive, whether used responsibility or irresponsibly. Yet even people who claimed to be master's of its nature were unsure what it was capable of. It was always such a surprise when used.

The Russian's boots were loud as he walked, it opened up the silence, as he slowly looked for a specific shop. The owner wasn't dead yet, but would most likely be soon.

He wasn't expecting to be on the northern side of his kingdom today, in fact he wasn't thinking he would ever be called to come here.

But the issue at stake was more important than anything he could ever imagine.

The Russian's fists clenched as he stared at the broken and charred wood.

Of course that German had to leave a mark on his property, just to spit some revenge into the Soviet's face.

It was taunting, and despicable. Ravishing his land and work, even after he had been gone for almost a year, he still found his way to push the Russian anger even further.

It was such a waste of effort and work. Upon lifting his head, Soviet could only be a bit disappointed to see the destruction of the land around him. It only lasted until it hit the crops, then they were successful in putting it out.

Yet still the land would be utterly useless and irremediable for years to come. The soil was ruined, and it would be a hassle to even attempt to remove the remains of the buildings.

It wouldn't be worth the money or time to fix. The remaining people- if they were let go- would have to relocate, there was no doubt about it. There was almost nothing else to do.

He huffed silently to himself, seeing his own breath in the icy, cold air around him.

He was going to find that German if it was the last thing he would ever do.

The man held a small object in his hand tightly, feeling the short metal burning into his skin, his thumb gently grazing over the gem that was held together, bending with the gold.

To sell something so valuable, Reich was practically punching him in the face.

He glared hatefully at the ring, his eyes holding so much hatred. How dare he even think to sell such a remarkable, generational thing to a petty shop that he had passed.

He was the whole reason for this fire, for the untrustworthy state of the guards and survivors. The assumption that he could have been living and hiding amongst one of these houses was evidently false now.

Soviet could only assume that there was more of his jewelry around. Perhaps not here, but definitely somewhere.

There were signs of his wife being around, and somewhere around here he had been. He had walked on this soil without a crown upon his head. He was more than lucky that Soviet hadn't found him yet.