The States.

  Consisted of sixteen regions, or sixteen bodies of power. Cornered by water on four sides. This land was first discovered and conquered by Europeans for the bountiful resources, and unfortunately, the people.

  Eventually, this land would separate itself from the hold of Europeans, and become an independent nation.

  The States, then, were to be led by the Central Government, where sixteen leaders of sixteen states together upheld peace and order of the States within the Board.

  The year was 1874. The age of horses, guns, bullets, and ■■■■■■■■■■■■■.

  --

  The town of Dainlesi, to the west of the States.

  The rustling sound of wooden wheels against the barren land. The icy wind hits, as the light of the starry sky laid the land bare. That night, the land, the mountain, and the river were clearer than on the usual nights of this town.

  The Doctor, glanced at the scenery as he rode the horse carriage towards a farm away from the usual town he lived in. He could see behind him the dimming light of the lamps, the windows and the images of the townsfolk. Riding past some of the favorite spots he loved seeing, the wild horses, which had always been there before, were nowhere to be seen. He sighed, assuming the goddamn outlaws might have taken them away, because those horses were never the type to wander away, for around 5 years then.

  The old Doctor, taking his feet to the ground, calmly walked through a herd of sheep. He had received a letter from a lady in this house, a request to diagnose and treat her cattle. He knocked calmly, still breathing out white streaks of air like winter nights' snow.

  "It's breezin' here, mm... Ma'am, anyone home?"

  "How long did it take you to get here?!"

  The owner, or the old lady, opened the door and greeted the man, though rough, the old lady screamed at his face, pointing a finger here and there. Of course, she would be angry. She was the infamous grumpy old woman who kept nagging about anything she could find annoying. The people in town never liked her in any way, except for her husband, who had been putting up with her.

  "Ma'am, please, just, I had a lot of patients to look after. The wind is cold, and I do wanna speed this up too, so please, may you tell me what's the situation?"

  "Patients, huh? What, still making deals with the Central Government? Or some of those idiotic so-called 'adventurers' that kept sniffing around the abandoned mine? Or the outlaws? Or the--"

  "Please, I wouldn't call it that... There are still good young men who have just returned from the Northern front, and... yes, there were some adventurers around, but I couldn't leave them be. Why don't we move past such topics, and... get to the problem? I'll give you a discount."

  "The sheep! I think their neck broke or something, whatever was going on in their head, and their senseless look."

  She said, pointing towards the fenced field.

  "Come, why don't you go take a look yourself?"

  Holding the warm and cozy lamp, he headed straight to the nearest sheep. From far away, there was nothing unusual, just a sheep minding its own business.

  Close enough, he realized it was looking up.

  Straight into the glowing sky.

  "See? These mutts won't stop looking up then and now! There's nothing up there!"

  He couldn't hold his curiosity. When he crouched down and took a quick look, he could tell there was nothing unusual, or remotely different in the sheep's neck structure, eyes, or nose.

  After a dozen seconds, he muttered to himself instinctively.

  "Above?"

  He looked up, and to no one's surprise, the sky was still as starry as ever. It was delightful, in fact. He wouldn't be able to tell the difference from that night to the previous night at all, not for a decade.

  If it wasn't for a single star that stood amidst them all. He fixed his gaze towards the source, a question to no one he muttered.

  "That star seems to be brighter than the rest, doesn't it?"

  To him, the bright star seems to be nothing more than a slight diversion. Maybe the sheep were drawn to it, he thought to himself. But that didn't make it any less uncanny, considering the entire cascade that has happened so far.

  Even if the sheep were drawn to this tiny star among the endless sky, would that be a signal of a blessing, or a disaster perhaps.

  "But to a single star... it's unlikely all of these fellows would be attracted to it like this. What's so special about that? Or am I just... imagining things?"

  The wind growled louder, and the freezing breeze sent his hat away.

  "Ah! How... unfortunate."

  Cold as the night was, he was slightly disappointed in what nature had brought to him. Furthermore, the stars shedding light on the scene only added salt to his wound, as if the clear sight of his hat flying away and the old lady looking at him weren't enough.

  He turned back to the sheep, back to his working mode to resolve this as quickly as possible. He never intended to stay back any longer than this, to be put to work on some questionable patients, or to be scolded by a boiling hot-headed woman.

  However, as his eyes landed on the sheep that had been next to him the entire time, it wasn't looking up anymore.

  It was lying on its stomach with its head lowered, fixated on the ground.

  The Doctor was first shook at the sudden change.

  But that quickly vanished, replaced by his professional demeanor.

  "What? Tired already?"

  The Doctor chuckled awkwardly, his hand placed on his chest as if he was expecting a heart attack.

  He was relieved.

  Looking up might just have been an odd habit that this fellow picked up during the night, and the old lady was paranoid over nothing, such was his assumption. This could end way quicker than he had expected. He subconsciously reached out and gave the sheep a slow pat on its head.

  The moment he made contact with the furry layer, he sensed something.

  "What..."

  The sheep was shivering, close to shaking. He held tighter to confirm the sensation, yet the answer changed not.

  Contrary to the peaceful gesture it just made, the sheep was shaking violently, in fear, or another emotion that couldn't be translated into words. It couldn't be the cold wind, as it wasn't anywhere powerful or violent enough to force the sheep to shiver.

  All of them were lying down with their heads lowered. They all had the same posture.

  It was a terrifying image. Like a nonexistent dreamy fairy tale.

  His mind couldn't stop but coming up with countless questions for which there might never exist a proper answer to begin with. Confusion clouded his mind. He looked around him, at the other animals in this field, the other sheep and the very horse he had arrived here with.

  He paused for a long while, fully processing the scene in his eyes. For a Doctor of his age, such wasn't something that would ever happen, logically speaking. His voice came out with tension and tremble. At that moment, it wasn't because of the wind.

  Fear.

  "What, what...? If I'm supposed to be dreaming right now, then it must be a really weird dream. There is no native tribe that performs such ridiculous magic tricks around this region, is it?"

  As he clutched harder to the hem of his coat, something in the background was changing. Something was affecting the entire land, from the innermost to the deep horizon.

  The ground glowed brighter, and his own shadow became bolder than anything else. The ground trembled. The whistle of the wind rose above him, blowing like it was trying to escape the land. The trees leaned back, like an audience in awe. Time felt slow and painful, like a pause before the ending of a show.

  His mind, despite the many doubts, started connecting the dots like a machine. He wouldn't believe it, he couldn't. The nail that had been poking out on the wall, he knew it was there, but his heart couldn't guide the hammer in his hand to finish the job. He didn't even need to look back at the old lady, because the loud yelp behind him had made it clear already.

  "That's where the mine..."

  Those were the last words he could hear from the old woman.

  For the next second, his mind reeled back to his past.

  The patients who were still in his place, he suddenly felt guilty for them. He regretted not letting them see their families for the last time.

  The horses, he hoped, would be safe and sound.

  "Lord have mercy."

  The star fell.

  And nothingness.

  In a matter of seconds, in a flash of blinding light, everything in sight was wiped out from the impact and the brutal waves of impending death alone. It spread like wildfire catching onto a vulnerable piece of flesh. Although death is here, the Doctor only smiled gently. He dared not say another word. In his 30 years of service, treating hundreds of patients, and seeing thousands of deaths passing by like nothing and everything, such imminent fate played before him was like a bitter joke, bringing an indiscriminating end to all. It was so slow, yet so fast.

  After the impact, a dark, treacherous and muddy black matter followed. It engulfed everything from the sky, towering over the life beneath. Like heaven turned black. It arrived like a tsunami that spared no difference of living or non-living.

  That night, the entire landmass shook. A love letter to the world of chaos. The moment the opening curtain fell, the western region had been completely swallowed, up to one third of the whole continent. The land then was closed off, the border had been drawn.

  From the ■■■■, that was.

  --

  Ever since that event, time had flown inconsistently. The Central Government, positioned in the eastern region, quickly took notice and acted without hesitation during the first few weeks. They sent men, troops, and armies marching towards the west. The public impression of this incident varied across the States, words were whispered even past the cities of foreign nations.

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  "A god's judgement" "Ragnarok" "The end of the world" "Savior's descended"

  Countless labels, beliefs and hypotheses arose. Despite the scientist's comforting words that it was merely a meteorite that had unfortunately landed, the public was not convinced by the sheer damage it left alone on the western region. There was no way to communicate or contact anyone or any organization that had been stationed on site. Half of the States were cut off from the rest of the world.

  "What if another meteorite falls?" "What if something crawls out of it?"

  Eventually, the Central Government calmed the masses through many campaigns and distractions, ensuring that in no time, they would eventually take back the western region and restore it back to their prime. The Central Government gathered all of the resources possible, despite the casualty they had suffered not long ago during the war on the northern front.

  Among the sixteen politicians, the Board that decides all matters within the structure of the Central Government, there was only one man who decided to not take any action, contribution nor letting himself be publicized. Therefore, this made him an eyesore to the rest of the Board, and granted him the nickname "Coward". Strangely, it wasn't the first time either.

  The very "Coward" had also refused to participate in the northern war against the rebellions seeking to overthrow the Central Government. The war lasted for four months, until it eventually ended in a stalemate. They were under a situation where both sides possessed no resource or manpower left to initiate another conflict. Additionally, the presence of the supposed meteorite caused even more disorders.

  Yet, the Coward had attained more power than anyone else could, without a single conflict.

  The Lord of Tuckerion, such was.

  --

  The meteorite strike was three months ago.

  Countless men sent to the field had not yet returned, not a single soul, nor a word. This stagnation was a burden to the Central Government, and a mock to their pride. The refusal to explain to the public only added fuel to fire.

  A sunny day.

  In the Assembly Hall of the Regemea Town, where most political matters reside within the documents and rustling papers, a man and his secretary, in their uptight and sleek noble vests, walked across the hallway at a hurried pace. His age was around fifty, his emotion was a whirlwind of rage and frustration, marching like a bull towards the red target. A clear contrast to his secretary, whose timid expression hardly kept up with his steps. A butler rushed to their side with a worried expression.

  "Sorry, sire-?! Our Lord isn't seeing anyone for the current time-"

  "Cut the excuse, you worthless nobody! In this troubling time, and that bastard still chose to stay out of this?!"

  "Ah! Hang on a minute-"

  The Butler was shoved to the sideline, and the angry man stopped at the door in front of him, barging on the hard surface. The words carved on the door were clear. "Mayor Office"

  "Mayor! I know you're in there! Open up!"

  "Please, we don't-"

  "Quiet! We have to talk to him-"

  Then, to everyone's surprise, the door slightly opened. On the other side, the Mayor's secretary, a blonde girl with glasses and ponytail, gestured for the guests to enter. Her face was unreadable, which was covered up by the mask of politeness and elegance for she lowered her head slightly.

  On the other side of the room, still sitting in his seat, looking through the piles of documents on his desk, was the Mayor. A long streak of beard, and a firm body uncommonly seen for anyone in their 60s, the stern and impressive glare that he emitted just from his presence alone. It was an outstanding evidence of how age couldn't drag him down, despite his nature of work— where words are the sword— and the chaotic nature of the land itself. Seeing him in person ignited doubt in the intruder's mind.

  "Is this supposed to be the so-called... Coward?"

  "You called?"

  A callout without a cause, it was as if the unfavorable thought within the unwanted guest had somehow slipped into the speech. The Mayor didn't bat an eye on the door, until he picked up the last piece of paper and put it aside, setting down the pen that had been used for the last few hours. He sighed. Then, he stood up, adjusting his tie before addressing the gentleman standing on the other side.

  "I assume the Board has something for me. Why don't you take a seat and we can address the perplexing circumstance that has been bogging our minds?"

  "Sure."

  "Secretary, please, do you mind waiting for us outside?"

  The two men then sit down on both sides of the table, facing each other. The room was without outsiders, leaving only the two of them.

  "You must have known the details, and the reason why I am here already."

  "It would be a lie if I were to deny it."

  "Yes. We have sent a total of six hundred men unto the west, all were nothing less than elite. Yet, we made no progress. Do you see? Six. Hundred. Men. Men with good families and kids waiting for them. And..."

  The man sighed loudly, grumbling. He gave up on explaining any further, and directly addressed the purpose behind his visit.

  "The Board has officially filed an order for you to take action, Mayor."

  "I... expected such."

  "Frankly, there's no hiding this from you. The Board is out of whatever we could use. We blasted too much money and equipment against the lowly slaves in the north. Though the rope has been tightened, but... if we delay any further, the public will kill us instead."

  "One thing I didn't expect is your attitude, I admit."

  "How strange. Among all this chaos and you still... " He sighed again "...You are correct. I simply don't have any more energy to put up unnecessary debate, and I am in no position against you, the one who has secured over forty percent of the Central Government."

  The man grumbled again, then added.

  "Even if I couldn't kill you, the rest of the Board will."

  "My condolence to the perished soul. From what I've heard, the two lords of Arkensis and Texall have gone missing during the march towards the west. We lost contact with the four lords of Montey, Arize, Quementonia, and Navepe?"

  Montey, Arize, Quementonia, Navepe. The four counties that were enveloped by the fire.

  "Was that supposed to be empathy? Or pity?"

  "If you squint your eyes hard enough, it might be the latter."

  "You cannot hide from your responsibilities forever, Mayor. Someday, your ignorance shall become the karma that will meet you with death. I heard you even got yourself some unrecorded individuals under your wing too. If... you intend to pose a threat against the Board-"

  "Please. I never intended such. Having bodyguards under myself is just a slight precaution."

  "You cannot hide from your responsibilities forever."

  --

  The guest, now sitting in his carriage with the secretary, glanced back towards the building with a bitter look as the horse galloped away. It was frustrating for him, because the whole conversation had seemed like a mere joke for the man on the other side of the table.

  "Who was that man, exactly?"

  The secretary asked with little force in his voice, to which he received an answer.

  "A plotter. That's the correct word for him."

  It was certainly something the young man hadn't expected.

  "How so? If you don't mind... sir..."

  "His reign in the Board began fifteen years ago. In a mere three months after his first day, he already took out four of the Board members. Then, he forced two members to quit on their own accord. I heard he had a mysterious past before his service time, but not a soul could dig that up."

  "Didn't... everyone called him-"

  "Most of the Board's members now are just kids with little to no experience, all wanting a taste of power over lands and slaves. How pathetic. But I would agree on one question."

  Surprised, the secretary tilted his head.

  "Yes?"

  "Why did he wait for so long? If it was the old— the previous him— he would have acted sooner."

  "Maybe he was waiting for the Board to be weakened... would it be easier for him to usurp the whole organization?"

  "That might be true. But at least he could've had some plans carried out in secret. Doing nothing for three months and a half, despite Regemea sitting right in the center of the States. He certainly knew something that none of us do. He even had some ties with the bastards from Europe!"

  Then, the man finally smirked.

  "But now, since we've forced him to finally act, we can see what act he was setting up. Surely, nothing can surprise us now."

  The smirk didn't last long. The man, serious, then gave a distant gaze through the windows, to the moving people outside. Concern grew within him. Of course. The world had been spinning so fast, and yet the most agonizing thought still haunted his mind. Not just him, but the people as well. At first, it was nothing more than a rock that hit this land. But, it didn't remain simple as such.

  Conspiracies, revolts, cults, foreign forces, all like a violent stream of water washing away their sanity. Not one day the citizen has felt any safety even in their home. More and more deserters are rampaging the land like wild animals. The international position for the States was also shaking, as if it could collapse any moment. At this point, the world might just end for them sooner.

  And for him, it had already started breaking down.

  "But the most concerning thing is still... what is going on over the border. In that land..."

  "... has the devil... finally decided to manifest?"

  --

  "Angels"

  "Yes?"

  "The angels."

  Within the Mayor's personal manor, two people stood across a large room, its ceiling was at least four feet above their head, the Mayor and his secretary. None of them made any gestures or movements to clarify, nor to communicate. A painting on the wall was what had captured their full attention. They both stood still, merely looking at the painting that completely covered the wall. Even as the secretary showed no expression, her curiosity still won the best of her.

  Yet, she still managed to hold herself back, her voice still calm and controlled.

  "Such a big painting."

  "Yes."

  "You have kept such a painting in this locked room for how long, may I ask?"

  "I forgot."

  "Hmm..."

  The conversation progressed at a slow pace.

  The large canvas that stretched long on the wall, depicting eighteen Angels in white pure gown, holding swords of light, all in unison, charged forth to the left. Each brush stroke was meticulous, and the colors seemed to have brought out emotions within each Angel. Sadness, joy, anger, sorrow, tranquility, and many more. But the painting itself felt odd, as if something was missing entirely. Even for her, a person whose taste of art had never been considered good, a person who had never considered herself a critic, the empty feeling was obvious.

  "Who was the artist, may I ask?"

  "It was me."

  That answer surprised her for a moment. For her time serving under his wing, the man had never struck her as an artist before.

  If anything, he had been very distant from subjects related to art, music and such. He had never paid an eye on any art gallery, or any opera show.

  "I see.”

  Despite being his secretary for so long, she never truly knew who this person she had been serving. Her eyes moved quietly, assessing the painting in hope of understanding the message. To no one’s surprise, she couldn’t muster a single definite answer.

  An odd pressure lingered in the room. She wasn't sure what to ask next, as if she was afraid of unintentionally offending him in some way.

  The room had always been sealed off during her employment. She had many concerns of the content within before, and she was also one of the few to reinforce security around the area, as the room might be a sensitive matter to outsiders.

  The moment she first stepped into the room and stood next to the Mayor, she knew she had crossed a boundary and presented herself in a place where she shouldn't have been. A private chamber. Though, her expectation was of a treasury, or hidden documents, instead of a sole painting.

  Then, her eyes landed on the right corner of the painting, the dark corner of the room that was buried under a layer of curtain.

  "May I ask?"

  She spoke, pointing towards the new discovery. The Mayor followed her finger. After that, for the first time of the day, he showed a tiny hint of surprise, like a reminder that was lost to him.

  "That... was the part I haven't finished yet."

  "Do you intend to finish it?"

  "Maybe."

  The conversation stopped in its tracks. She had no more, or to be exact, too many questions that couldn’t be stated carelessly.

  Then, after a long ten minutes, she finally changed the topic, now in her working tone of professionalism.

  "About the order from the Board, what is your decision? Right now, the morale of the people isn't looking very good. Although we have the necessary personnel to deal with the problem, stripping them away might put us at a vulnerable spot."

  "I understand."

  "We have two options. The first is to abide by the order. The second is..."

  "Haha. I wouldn't recommend that."

  To ignore the order. To overtake the Board by force. It was a bold idea, and evidently a bad one.

  The Mayor chuckled, followed by her words.

  "I also expected so. I believe you have a plan already."

  The Mayor sighed. He looked at her, then back at the painting.

  "Let's use outsiders."

  "Please elaborate."

  "Set up a prize, and spread words. About a Demon Lord that is threatening the land."

  "That's... quite surprising. For how impractical and abnormal, especially you, out of all people, are."

  "In this age, such would be a norm, no?

  She glanced at the files on her hand, the reports of countless incidents that had already occurred for the past three months. It was a strange yet novel idea. Within these days, the only enemy they had was the chaotic movement of the public and the possible intruders from beyond the seas. This could prove to be a chance to deal with them effectively.

  Furthermore, regarding the classified information in their hands, such would be the most effective solution.

  "I don't deny it. What's the prize, then?"

  "Let's see... I will go with, exemption from laws."

  Then, came another surprised expression from her. She certainly was taken aback from such a statement, but she then collected her calmness in no time. She wondered if he had just made it up on a whim, but his face betrayed that thought immediately.

  The man in front of her was serious.

  Exemption from law was never something to be made possible. For a single person to stand on top of the nation, the food chain, the kingdom would crumble in no time.

  "What would the Board, no, the Central Government think of this? This will surely come as a... surprise, even for early Christmas."

  "They're desperate enough to rely on me. They won't even have the force to stop it."

  "And the supposed... participants? Wouldn't this system be abused? I suppose we shouldn't underestimate what these outsiders can do, based on the current States we're seeing."

  "Underestimating someone is the last thing I would do. So, only one person will get the prize. And that would be the one who truly won."

  "I see. So you intended it that way. If it's only one, then we can waste no time using them to our advantage. Though we still need failsafes."

  Finally, she started noting down on the files with an incredible speed, as if her world had stopped progressing for her for half a minute, until she stopped in her tracks.

  "Why this way, may I ask?"

  "The States right now only need one hero. A shining hero that can alter the discourse of justice and value of life. After the deaths and the corpses of the fellow soldiers, it's obvious that there is an enemy on the other side, right? Of course, I'll permit the four of my men to tag along the journey. Send the tickets out, I believe you already figured out who or where to send them to."

  "I... understood. But how many do we need? I suppose we need a fair amount for easier management? Though a bit risky... and might be-"

  With the final nod, he looked at the painting again.

  "A fitting number, isn't it right here?"

  The Painting. The Eighteen Angels.

  “Got it. One more thing. May I ask the name of the painting?"

  "I haven't named it yet. But a fitting name would be... The End.

  The End… of an ever cycling war.”