The Explorer's Odyssey

The Beginning

(A/N: This chapter will be getting a warning so please if you do not wish to read feel free to skip!.)

Narrative POV

M - Mature

Under the bruised sky of an approaching storm, the landscape was a canvas of chaos and fire. The battlefield stretched out like a fractured mirror, where the grim realities of war clashed with the muted colors of twilight. The ground trembled as the Spanish Army, clad in their distinctive dark blue and gold uniforms, advanced with resolute precision. Their formations were a steel wall of disciplined soldiers, each step synchronized, each movement calculated.

The Spanish infantry, armed with muskets and bayonets, marched in tight ranks, their boots stirring up clouds of dust. Cannons, mounted on horse-drawn carriages, rumbled behind them, ready to unleash devastating barrages. The officers, adorned with ornate epaulettes and drawn sabers, barked orders through the din of battle, their voices barely piercing the cacophony of gunfire and explosions.

To the west, the Italian Malita roared into action. They were a disparate but formidable force, known for their ferociousness and cunning tactics. Wearing a mix of dark green and crimson, their appearance was less uniform but no less intimidating. The Malita's elite cavalry charged with a deadly grace, their lances glinting as they spearheaded the attack, weaving through the lines of Spanish soldiers with swift, surgical strikes. Behind them, the infantry employed a barrage of rapid-fire rifles and makeshift artillery, creating a chaotic, shifting line of fire.

The Russian Armada, a formidable naval power, loomed ominously in the background, though the battle took place on land. Their presence was felt through the distant, rhythmic pounding of their massive cannons and the occasional roar of their mortars. From the shores, Russian warships launched long-range bombardments, sending fiery projectiles that streaked across the sky and crashed into the earth with thunderous impacts. The Russian artillerymen, their faces etched with grim determination, worked tirelessly, their heavy guns pounding away at both the Spanish and Italian positions, hoping to turn the tide of battle from the sea.

As the three forces collided, the air became a tempest of smoke and fire. The Spanish Army pressed forward with unyielding discipline, their cannonballs tearing into the advancing Italian ranks. In response, the Malita fought with a feral desperation, their skirmishers darting in and out of the fray, exploiting every gap and weakness they could find. The ground was littered with fallen soldiers from both sides, and the clash of steel and the cries of the wounded filled the air.

Through the haze of battle, the Russian artillery continued its relentless bombardment, each explosion a grim reminder of their power. The sea-born cannonades illuminated the battlefield with bursts of light, casting eerie shadows on the combatants below. The strategic advantage they sought from the sea was clear, but their inability to directly influence the land skirmishes left them in a tense stalemate, their firepower a double-edged sword.

As night fell, the battlefield transformed into a nightmarish landscape of fire and smoke, illuminated intermittently by the flashes of artillery and the crackle of distant explosions. The Spanish Army, Italian Malita, and Russian Armada all fought with unwavering resolve, their strategies and loyalties intertwining in a brutal dance of warfare. The scene was one of raw, unrestrained conflict, a testament to the relentless and unforgiving nature of war.

This is the beginning of the unleashed chaos amongst the three nations and from that day forth everything was changed for the worst. Enemies near and far known that the mightiest warriors from each nation died in the war. However, throughout the onslaught there was one sole survivor.  His name is Alphonzo Riveira a young warrior of the Spanish forces who survived the war and has lived to see the chaos that had unfolded. 

-Scene End-

After the war ended Alphonzo made his long travels back to his home, going through different places and saw how much damage was done through it all. No one can rightfully say who won and who lost but what people now know is the three nations were enemies from then day of the battle and then on. Loved ones lost, innocent lives taken and all for power, now this will be a tale worth spinning for who knows how long peace shall last.