(Warning: Acts of Terrorism depicted, viewer discretion is advised.)
The parade square, silent under the cover of darkness, seemed peaceful. Banners of black and gold hung motionless in the still air, the remnants of celebration scattered like forgotten memories across the cobblestones. Yet, beneath the surface, unrest was brewing.
In the shadows, figures moved with purpose, their cloaks blending seamlessly into the night. At the center of the square, where King Monn had stood earlier that day, a group crouched around a cylindrical device. Its surface glowed faintly with an ominous red light, casting eerie shadows.
“Is it ready?” one whispered.
“Almost,” replied another, their hands deftly adjusting components. “We just need a bit more time.”
“Good,” the leader said, their tone cold. “Tonight, the kingdom learns that its golden age is a fragile illusion.”
A Royal Guard patrolling the area noticed movement from the corner of his eye. Drawing his plasma pistol, he stepped closer. His voice cut through the night like a blade.
“Stop where you are! Identify yourselves!”
The intruders froze momentarily before their leader chuckled. “Brave of you. But bravery won’t save you tonight.”
Before the guard could react, one of the attackers raised their plasma rifle and fired. The guard ducked, returning fire as he moved for cover.
The sound of plasma fire shattered the quiet night. Alarms blared through the square, summoning reinforcements. Royal Guards poured in from nearby posts, their rifles blazing, illuminating the chaos.
“Surround them!” barked the squad commander.
The attackers, though outnumbered, held their ground with precision and coordination. Their leader’s voice rang out above the fray. “Hold them back! The timer is almost set!”
One of the guards noticed the glowing device and shouted, “They’ve armed a bomb!”
Racing toward it, the guards attempted to disable the device. But the attackers fought fiercely, cutting off their approach. The leader, wounded but unfazed, glanced at the timer and whispered, “Too late.”
A moment later, the square erupted in a thunderous explosion. Fire and debris engulfed the area, toppling banners and shattering windows. The once-pristine parade grounds were reduced to a smoldering ruin.
The attack didn’t end there.
Across the capital, more explosions erupted in rapid succession. The central market square was consumed by fire. Key infrastructure points, including bridges and supply depots, crumbled under the force of the blasts. Panic spread like wildfire as citizens fled into the night.
From the palace balcony, King Monn stood in silence, his gaze fixed on the distant flames and rising smoke. The air carried the acrid scent of destruction, and the faint echoes of chaos reached his ears.
He didn’t need a report to know what was happening. His city, his kingdom, was under siege.
In the depths of the palace, the war room buzzed with frantic activity as officers and council members scrambled for answers. Monn turned from the balcony and strode toward the chamber, his expression grim and determined.
The Golden Eternal Kingdom, the symbol of stability and power, had been shaken to its core. But as Monn entered the war room, his voice cut through the panic with a commanding edge.
“We will respond. We will rebuild. And we will find those responsible.”
Outside, the city burned. And as the night wore on, the attackers vanished into the shadows, leaving behind only devastation and the promise of more to come.
YOU ARE READING
Eternal.
Science Fiction"They stood with us, side by side, Fighting through battles as the nights got colder. Their blades once lit up the battlefield, And their voices were strong-but now, it's quiet. I can still remember the way they laughed, The way they'd charge into t...
