Yan's face tightened beneath the weight of sorrow, her eyes fixed upon the ground as though they feared confronting the memories that haunted her. Her body trembled—not from anger nor hatred, but from a grief so profound that it had settled deep within her soul.
Then she spoke, her voice low and heavy with bitterness and despair.
"We were once a great kingdom, our dominion stretching across vast lands of the continent of Earth. Our banners flew proudly above four mighty cities: Heskaria, the ancient city; the Fiery Phoenix, our majestic capital; the Northern Flame; and the City of the Red Basin.
For many years, we lived in glory and strength—until Centaurus appeared.
He sent his envoys to every king in the world, demanding submission to his will. When the message reached our king, Ozarm the Sixth, he made a desperate choice that no one could have imagined. He sent his own son to Centaurus, carrying a letter that read:
'King Centaurus, I offer you my son, the most precious thing I possess. Spare my kingdom its freedom. Kill him if you wish; do with him whatever pleases you. But let my people live in peace.'
But Centaurus had never known mercy.
The moment the boy stood before him, he ordered his execution. Then, with cold contempt, he declared:
'This boy is worth less to me than the filth of a goat.'
When news of his son's death reached Ozarm the Sixth, fury consumed him like an inferno. Standing before his people, he recited words that would echo through the generations:
Raise our banner, for we march to a raging war for my son.
We march to a merciless war.
We march for the freedom of our bloodline.
O Centaurus, you slew my son for a handful of dust.
You murdered a noble soul for a worthless price.
You struck down an honorable man with a dishonorable death.
By the heavens, the fire within my heart shall never rest
Until I witness the earth drink from your blood,
And until you learn that the blood of the noble,
When spilled, awakens wars within the hearts of men.
When he finished, he summoned every member of House Eina to the Red Hall. There, amidst a suffocating silence and faces burning with rage, he declared war.
Thus began what would later be known as the War of One Hundred Charges.
It was a bloody conflict that endured for twelve years—a merciless war that devoured cities and villages alike. Rivers ran crimson with blood, and the earth trembled beneath the thunder of endless battles. Kingdoms collapsed before its fury, and many claimed that since the dawn of history, the world had never witnessed a war so savage or so devastating.
It came to be called the War of One Hundred Charges because it was marked by one hundred great battles that shook every corner of the continent. They were not scattered skirmishes, but a relentless chain of bloody confrontations in which wills clashed before swords and determination fought before armies.
Though Centaurus commanded countless legions and alliances stretching across many kingdoms, House Eina possessed an advantage neither he nor his allies could rival.
Every member of House Eina was bonded from birth to a celestial creature—either a young dragon or a fledgling phoenix. These sacred beings grew alongside their companions, sharing their joys and sorrows until their spirits became inseparably entwined. When the drums of war sounded, dragons and phoenixes soared above the battlefields like blazing stars, breathing fire from the heavens and planting terror within the hearts of their enemies.
Thus, the War of One Hundred Charges was not merely a struggle between armies. It was an epic conflict between legendary powers that reshaped the world itself, becoming forever remembered as the greatest and bloodiest war in the history of Earth."
Silence settled over the hall.
The only sound was the crackling of burning wood within the hearth. Flames danced before Yan, their crimson glow reflected in her eyes. She stared into the fire for a long moment, as though she no longer saw the flames but the past itself.
In her mind, endless armies marched beneath a sky blackened by smoke. She heard the clash of steel mingling with the roars of dragons and the screams of dying men. She saw phoenixes soaring above burning battlefields, their wings spreading sheets of living fire across the clouds while the ground below transformed into rivers of blood.
She saw mighty fortresses collapsing beneath relentless assaults. Great banners burned and fell into the mud. Knights charged toward certain death with their final war cries upon their lips. Mothers waited for sons who would never return.
Then she spoke again, her voice solemn and majestic, as though it rose from the depths of those distant memories.
"Until those destined to die were slain. Until those fated to be captured were taken in chains. Until those marked for slaughter met their end. The graves overflowed with men, and the rivers ran red with blood. No home was left untouched by sorrow, and no family escaped the loss of someone dear."
The flames shuddered before her.
Kashin listened in silence, his eyes widening with every word.
Then he suddenly stepped forward, excitement shining through his expression.
"Mother, I want to hear about those battles! Even if you cannot tell me of all of them, tell me at least of the bloodiest among them. I want to know how our ancestors fought, and how they endured the War of One Hundred Charges."
Yan slowly turned toward him.
Within her eyes lay both sorrow and pride, as though she were preparing to open pages of history written in blood and fire.