Yan's face tightened beneath the weight of the memory. Her gaze drifted toward the ground while her fingers curled into clenched fists, like those of a warrior yearning for the battlefield.
"There were countless skirmishes between Centaurus's armies—both beast and human—and the armies of House Eina, until at last the First Battle of Ansart erupted.
A human force loyal to Centaurus, numbering between fifteen and twenty thousand men, marched through the forest in loose formation, unaware that death lurked among the trees. Then, without warning, Prince Ozarm, the Butcher of House Eina—the god of war among men—struck.
Ozarm, son of Ozarm VI, younger brother of General Jis, the Crown Prince and Supreme Commander of the military forces, descended upon them from every direction. He surrounded them as tightly as a bracelet around a wrist, turning the forest into both a prison and a grave.
The battle ignited.
Steel clashed against steel. Bodies trembled beneath the fury of combat. Ranks collapsed under relentless volleys of arrows and merciless blows of iron, until even the air itself grew heavy with the scent of blood.
When the commander of the human army realized that destruction had closed around his men, he released ravens to carry pleas for aid to nearby forces.
But Prince Leo, commander of the archers and cousin to Ozarm VI, proved swifter than the wind itself. With deadly precision, he loosed arrow after arrow, striking the ravens from the sky before they could leave the battlefield.
The fighting raged on—brutal and unrelenting.
By its end, two-thirds of the human army lay dead. The remaining third were taken captive, while only a handful managed to flee in terror through the forest.
It was the first great battle of the war.
And it marked the beginning of a bloodshed that would not cease for a very long time."
A broad grin spread across Kashin's face, and a spark of excitement gleamed in his eyes. He listened to the tale as though the battle were unfolding before him at that very moment. In his mind, he could almost see himself standing amidst the forest, surrounded by the clash of swords and the roar of dragons.
Then he let out a short laugh and said with youthful enthusiasm and fearless admiration,
"I wish I could have been there with him! That man was a true warrior. I'd have loved to cross blades with him, even just once. Fighting someone like that must have been an incredible experience! Hahaha!"
He shook his head, still smiling, as the image of Prince Ozarm transformed in his imagination into one of those legendary warriors who seemed impossible to defeat.
Yan watched him silently for a moment, a faint smile appearing on her lips.
There was something in his enthusiasm that reminded her of his ancestors—that ancient passion which had driven the men of House Eina into battle without fear of death.
Yet she also knew a truth that every survivor of war eventually learned:
Wars are far more beautiful in stories than they ever are in reality.