The lands of the north were in ceaseless turmoil. A lawless zone with new monarchs taking over each day just to be toppled over the next. Poverty, war, bloodshed, it was a land filled with death.

Hundreds walked around from place to place in search of refuge, but the sparks of war followed them to the furthest of places. Chaos, unending chaos, that was what it was. All this chaos, all those deaths, all planted by those heinous Angnarmaraks. They made every single power in the northern lands fight against each other and swooped up the remnants to create their great “kingdom.”

I was one of those stranglers too, just like all of your ancestors. Trudging away each day, dragging my body through this lifeless hell without knowing if I’ll even live till tomorrow or will a stray arrow pierce through my heart. Will I even eat tomorrow, or will beasts of war chop me up and gulp me down? Will I even breathe until tomorrow, or will these blazing wars asphyxiate me?

It was then, that I met him. Our glorious lord. No spell was mighty enough to pierce through him, no blade was sharp enough to cut through him. For the buds of the soil that had lost their homes, for us, he created a home, a haven from all the war. A place to live without the fear of war, a place to eat without the fear of starvation, a place to breathe without the fear of burning away.

A place for us to grow, to blossom, that was our Great God, Ifcarus’ Blume.

The war raged on and Angnarmarak grew large enough to become the kingdom it aspired to be. Any new power either submitted to its might or was swallowed up regardless.

Years passed, I myself became a priest. From a dirty man who ate food stolen from the dead to a person who could smile and help those that needed it. That was the life our Great God had granted not just me, but all of your ancestors. No! He granted this life to everyone living on the lands of Blume.

When only we and the Angnarmarak kingdom were left, we thought the years of turmoil had finally come to an end. That maybe it was all over. That maybe people could live as people again all over the northern lands. But, the Angnarmarak’s greed didn’t end there.

They threatened us with war. They wanted our land, too.

‘It would be fine! Our god is invincible, he will protect us. They can never defeat him!’ That was what we thought.

┈ ┈ ┈ ⋞ ⟨ ⏣ ⟩ ⋟ ┈ ┈ ┈

Almost a hundred people stood around the statue of the Snake God with their heads bowed in reverence. Only the light of the magic stone in the statue’s, no, the corpse’s head lit up the room.

They all waited with bated breaths as Holy Water suddenly stopped and looked around them. Slowly gazing up, all of them turned towards their leader, their priest.

Standing atop a large mechanical frame, his wispy white hair and charming face seemed to captivate all that gazed upon him.

Tears.

Tears dripped from his eyes as his lips trembled.

Oohs and aahs rang out from everyone in the room as Holy Water started crying. Taking in deep breaths, he grit his teeth and continued.

“Our thoughts were correct! Those Angnarmarak bastards, they could never do it. They could never defeat our lord!”

The calm story of the man had turned into an impassioned scream.

“None of them could. But our lord, our great god! He was murdered by one of our own!”

“Ahhh!!”

“No! Our lord!”

“How could this happen? How!”

Tears continually streamed down Holy Water’s face as he clenched his fist again. “Our lord’s trusted fighter, his spear. That man had joined hands with the enemy! He gave up our lord, he killed him. And for what? All for the title of Count Gilbert Rose von der Blume! He gave up our god, our land, our haven, our children, our future, all for his greed.”

Holy Water spread his arms with a pained smile as he slowly got off of the mechanical frame. The people all had their eyes glistening with tears as they stared back at Holy Water with madder eyes, their expressions almost bordering on mania.

“But the day has finally come.”

His voice creaked as the smile grew wider and wider.

“The time has come. For our lord, our Great God, to take everything back.”

The dam of tears broke out as they fell off his eyes like a river.

“It is time to blossom again. To bring our Blume back. So please, sacrifice yourselves.”

Everyone cried and wailed like confused children as Holy Water’s words ended. They mourned and mourned for their friends, for their sins, for their god, for themselves.

“AAAAH!!”

A loud scream rang out from a burly man at the back. Pulling a knife out of his pockets, he rushed towards the head of the snake god. The man lept at the petrified head and swung the blade on his neck without hesitating for a second. Blood mixed with the tears dripping down his face and spurted out right on the statue of their god.

The head of the god twitched ever so slightly as the intricate magical circles on its forehead glowed.

“OOH!”

“Our lord!”

“Forgive us! Forgive us!”

Dozens of shouts echoed back as the wailing people rushed at the head of the god.

Holy Water saw the sight, his face twisting more and more in pain. He slowly nodded and covered his face. Still crying, he turned his back to the head of the god and climbed back into his mechanical frame, his exoskeleton.

“Please wait, my lord. Luck is on our side this time. I’ll bring you back the blood of the traitorous bastard.”

Holy Water got inside his exoskeleton. He moved away as the wheel whirred on...

... leaving behind a growing sea of blood and cries.