2025-09-15 13:45:23
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THE SIEGE OF THE EASTERN GATE
…or be buried with the ghosts of his past.That was the truth Ares carried as they moved through the broken streets. The city felt like a corpse - every window hollow, every street choked with ash. Somewhere a shutter banged against a wall, the lonely sound echoing like a reminder of what Lin City had lost.Reyes muttered, “I hate it when it’s this quiet. Means they’re watching.”Hawk gave a small grunt but kept his hand near the hilt of his blade. He walked close to Ares, every muscle tight. They had been in this rhythm too many times - three men, one bond, walking into storms.Ares didn’t speak. His eyes fixed on the horizon where the Eastern Gate rose like a jagged scar. Even from a distance, its towers loomed, banners of black snapping in the wind. The Wu Syndicate still claimed strength, still clung to a dragon’s shadow. But shadows weren’t strength.Ares lifted a hand. The others froze. A faint metallic click echoed, sharp against the silence.“Snipers,” he said flatly.The firs
THE MARCH TO THE EASTERN GATE
And for the first time since his return, Ares allowed himself to believe – just for a breath – that victory was not a dream.But the breath vanished quickly. Reality had a way of reminding him that dreams were fragile, and men who carried the weight of nations could not afford to linger in them.The war had not ended. It had only shifted. And now, as night folded over Lin City, shadows gathered thicker than ever.Mira was the first to notice. She stood by the window of the Resistance Hall, her eyes narrowing at the faint movement below. “They’re probing again,” she whispered.Ares followed her gaze. Down on the street, shapes moved - scouts, mercenaries loyal to the remnants of Victor Wu’s empire. They weren’t attacking outright. Not yet. They were testing, circling, waiting for weakness.“Hyenas,” Reyes muttered, his hand tightening around the rifle slung over his shoulder. “They can smell blood even when you try to hide it.”Ares rose slowly, adjusting Elijah’s blanket before steppi
GHOSTS IN THE DARK
He opened his eyes. The weight of a nation pressed against him. And he carried it without breaking.The windowpane was cold beneath his palm as he leaned forward, gazing out at Lin City’s broken sprawl. Smoke from half-burnt factories curled into the dawn sky, mixing with fog until the skyline looked like a graveyard of bones. To the untrained eye, the city looked finished - half-starved, leaderless, waiting to be conquered.But Ares knew better. Beneath the cracks, Lin City still breathed. And that breath was about to turn into fire.He pulled away from the window and descended the steps. The Resistance Hall was quieter now, most of the men sprawled on benches or curled in corners catching what little rest they could. Hawk had slumped against the wall with his rifle across his knees, eyes closed but hands gripping the weapon as if sleep might try to steal it. Reyes sat at the map table, scribbling notes in a battered ledger by candlelight, his jaw tight with thought.Mira stood near
THE WEIGHT OF A NATION
“Now the war would test its soul.”Ares’s voice lingered in the air long after it left his mouth, and the hall seemed to shrink into silence. Every set of eyes - scarred fighters, old men with trembling hands, women clutching rifles too heavy for their frames - was fixed on him. In that stillness, he felt the truth of his own words press against his chest.Mira stood at the far side of the room, Elijah drowsing in her arms. The boy’s small hand twitched in his sleep, reaching for something unseen. Ares caught the gesture, and for one dangerous second the mask cracked - he was just a father, not the commander everyone expected to save them.But the war did not care about fathers.He straightened, pushing that softness back into the locked room of his heart. His gaze swept across the Resistance Hall. “They believe Lin City has already surrendered,” he said, voice low but sharp. “That we are too divided, too hungry, too broken to fight. They think fear is enough to keep us crawling.”His
THE GATHERING STORM
The war had only begun.And the air already carried the weight of it. Even standing high on the walls of Lin City, Ares could smell it - iron and smoke, like an echo of the storm that had just passed. The torches guttered along the ramparts, throwing long shadows across stone scarred by fire. Somewhere far below, a hammer rang as someone repaired a shattered gate. The sound was steady, almost defiant.He leaned on the cold stone, cloak brushing his boots, watching the horizon. He wasn’t really seeing the fields. He was seeing the road beyond them, the one that would soon crawl with banners and blades.A creak of boots drew close. Reyes joined him, flask in hand, the lines around his eyes deeper in the torchlight. He didn’t say anything at first, just leaned on the wall beside him. The two men stood in silence, listening to the city breathe.Finally Reyes lifted the flask, offering it out. “You’ve got that look again.”“What look?” Ares didn’t move his eyes from the horizon.“The one t
SHADOWS ON THE HORIZON
Because that was the oath he carried.And oaths, Ares knew, were heavier than chains. They pressed into the marrow, they bent the spine, and they did not let go. A man could abandon his fortune, his name, even his blood - but not his oath. His oath was the last truth that followed him into the grave.The Resistance Hall stood quiet after the storm. Torches guttered along the walls, their smoke curling upward, filling the rafters with a faint haze. Outside, the square still bore scars of the battle: shattered carts, burned cloth, blood crusted into the cracks of the stone. Yet life stirred there again. Merchants swept their stalls. Children kicked stones across the cobbles. The city, stubborn as bone, refused to stay broken.Ares leaned against the window frame, his silhouette cast in the flicker of firelight. His eyes traced the city’s outline - its crooked streets, its battered walls, the stubborn glimmer of lanterns being lit one by one. He should have been exhausted. Instead, rest
