Crystal of Creation

1. Save Me!

This is the last base of the demon scum! Keep your heads up, men!"

The old man's voice cut through the eerie quiet of the charred forest like a blade, rising above the swirling wind that carried the scent of ash and death. His armor was battered, scorched from countless battles, but he wore it with pride. The once-proud knights marching behind him, however, had long since abandoned any notions of glory. Their faces were hollow, eyes sunken with exhaustion, and their breaths came in ragged gasps as they trudged forward, little more than ghosts of the warriors they had once been.

Their noble oaths, once sacred, were now distant memories—cast aside in favor of survival. Murder, theft, kidnapping—no act was too low for them now. They had become mercenaries, desperate men fighting for their lives in a war that had lost all meaning.

The charred remains of trees, twisted and blackened like the hands of the damned, lined their path as they approached the demon's fortress. The sky above was an ominous shade of gray, the sun struggling to break through the thick layer of smoke and clouds. The air itself seemed alive, thick with tension and foreboding.

As they neared the castle, the wind grew stronger, howling like a wounded animal. It was as if the land itself was screaming at them to turn back, to abandon this doomed crusade before it was too late. But the warning came too late.

The first sign of the ambush was a low growl, barely audible over the wind. Then, out of the shadows near the eastern gate, a horde of enemy forces descended upon them. They moved with terrifying speed, their weapons gleaming in the dim light as they tore through the knights' ranks with ruthless precision.

Chaos erupted. Steel clashed, blood sprayed into the air, and the ground beneath their feet turned slick with the dead. The soldier could hear the screams of his comrades, the desperate shouts for help that were quickly silenced by the cold bite of steel. The knights, once a formidable force, were now little more than prey for the demons that swarmed them.

The soldier swung his sword wildly, the weight of it almost too much for his trembling arms. He fought with every ounce of strength he had left, but it wasn't enough. The demons were too fast, too strong. Around him, his comrades were cut down one by one, their bodies crumpling to the ground like discarded toys.

He didn't know how long the battle lasted—minutes, hours, it was all a blur. All he knew was that when it was over, the once-proud army lay in ruins. Only a handful of knights remained, bloodied and broken, their eyes glazed with shock and disbelief.

In a village near the demon continent...

"Kid! Grab the crystal and get out of here, now!"

The man's voice was rough, but steady. He stood in the middle of the burning village, swinging his axe with wild desperation as he fought off the attackers. His armor, once gleaming and proud, was now stained with blood and dirt, barely holding together under the strain of battle. He was buying time—time for the boy to escape.

The boy watched in horror as two swords suddenly plunged into the man's chest, piercing clean through his armor. The man's smile faltered, blood spilling from his lips as he crumpled to the ground.

"No... NO!" The boy's voice cracked with despair, but there was no time for grief. He had to run.

With tears blurring his vision, the boy sprinted down the stairs of the burning building, stumbling over the bodies of his fallen comrades. His heart pounded in his chest, his lungs burned, and his mind raced with frantic thoughts.

"I'm sorry... I couldn't save any of you. Please, someone... save us!"

But there was no one left to save them.