[ 00 - PROLOGUE ]

―  a tale of a resentful soldier  ―

Everywhere I looked, I was plagued by visions of red. Red explosions caused by endless pummeling of laserfire, red flames, the odd red color of the sun in the sky. Red blood.

Embers, red with the heat of a nearby fire, floated through the air and landed at my booted feet. The small specks of light were extinguished quickly by the soil they fell on, and neither struggle nor strain was involved as their light went out. It was almost as if they were taunting me and the legions of people that were dying around me. While my comrades lied in the dirt, coughing up spurts of warm blood and begging to be put out of their misery, the tiny remnants of a burning flame simply flickered out of existence. Just like that - no pain or suffering involved.

Flags whipped in the overhead wind, boasting the vibrant red colors of the homeplanet they represented. Similar to the flags in both its purpose and color, small pieces of cloth hung from the armor of various soldiers. Not one of the cloth scraps had avoided being ripped and torn, just as not a single one of the army men who wore the fabric could be considered an ally of mine. Red was the color of the enemy. It made more sense that way when considering how much scarlet blood was spilled because of them. In particular, how much Sarosian blood had been spilled due to their sharp swords and explosive gunfire.

The only one of us Sarosian natives who'd hardly bled a single drop - who'd hardly felt even the slightest bit of pain throughout this entire conquest - was Orion Atlas. Orion, who sat safely in a ship far above the battlefield as his people died before him. Orion, the prince we were supposed to be following. The man I was supposed to be willing to give my life for.

On the contrary, even as I fought for him and my entire homeplanet, I felt neither loyalty nor respect for the eldest Prince of Saros. In fact, I almost laughed in glee when I glimpsed the tempestuous look in his dark eyes. Past the transparent glass window of Orion's spaceship, past the ruthless and brutal facade he always seemed to uphold no matter what the circumstance, my oh so high and mighty ruler was finally feeling some pain. Some regret, maybe. For what, I could only guess. But he deserved it.

The war prince, who never gave and only took away, was finally suffering. After all these years of barbaric training methods and torture in disguise, the man who sat above it all was finally getting a taste of his own medicine.

I grinned.

Amidst the piercing screams around me - screams that told stories of death and blood-curdling war, I grinned.

The cruel prince's army had been torn away from him within minutes. It had only taken one fatal decision on his part to stir up a fight he couldn't win, a fight any rational man could never have hoped to win. Orion had been ripped off of his throne of pride and ambition, and it only seemed fitting that I would grin.