A soldier runs through the wreckage, blood trailing from his leg.
He sees his friend kneeling… then collapsing, a faint smile still frozen on his face.
His back is torn open from laser wounds.
He knows exactly who did it.
He lifts his gun—hands trembling.
He wants to shoot her.
The woman he once loved.
But he can't.
His fingers refuse to obey.
Two shots hit him—one in the left hand, one in the right leg.
He falls.
His vision glitches—blurring, clearing, blurring again.
Sounds reach him slowly, like they're underwater.
The sky has already turned to night.
The moon, once pink, now burns a deep red—watching silently like a monster.
The stars are faint, none twinkling… just like his heart that refuses to believe his love is pointing a gun at his head.
Everything is burning.
Smoke chokes the sky.
Fire has turned every beautiful thing into ash.
"War… why do you only take the things people love most?"
He screams this inside, but no sound leaves his mouth.
Fifty meters away, shapes clash with laser swords.
And then—he sees her.
Sophia.
Standing on his hands, pinning him down.
She points her gun at his head.
"Goodbye, darling," she says coldly.
"It was fun watching you rats crawl."
But her face tells a different story.
It says, "Please, my love… end me. I can't hurt you. I can't even scratch your skin."
He closes his eyes and whispers in his heart:
"War, I hate you.
Love, I hate you.
World, I hate you.
Money… power… all of you took everything from me— and from everyone here."
And inside her heart, she whispers:
"Love… I'm sorry. I promise you—like all those days you saved me—I will give even my life to protect you."
She was pretending.
To save him.
And then—
Bang.
But the pain never comes.
A warm splash lands on his face.
He opens his eyes—
The blood on his skin… isn't his.
Sophia collapses onto him.
He feels it instantly.
Her heartbeat is gone.
He almost breaks.
His body shakes uncontrollably.
A single tear escapes, even though he tries to lock everything inside.
Her smell… her warmth… her presence…
Her voice… her promises…
All gone.
He feels parts of his heart shut down, one emotion at a time.
Somehow, he lifts her and places her gently on the least-destroyed patch of ground.
He rests his head on her torso and whispers:
"Why… God… why her?
Please… please… return her.
Take me instead.
Our children… they can't live without her…
Please God… take me… me… me… and give her back…"
He walks a few steps, his legs give out, and he collapses to his knees.
He punches the ground in grief.
Another tear forms—he forces it back, locking it inside like a secret thrown into an ocean.
He stands again.
His sister appears a few meters away, smoke rising from her weapon.
"We're still alive," she says.
"We're winning… I think."
But he doesn't respond.
He has already turned into something else—empty, numb, mechanical.
They walk through fire, past broken bodies and burning homes.
People sit in the dirt—food untouched.
Some dead.
Some staring blankly.
[Distant screams. They run.]
Their mother lies crushed under rubble.
Still.
Silent.
Like a flower stepped on and forgotten.
Their father crawls toward them, reaching—
Wanting to see his children one last time before entering the world of no return.
"Protect… her…" he whispers.
"Protect… the world…"
He dies in their arms.
The sister screams.
The brother stands still.
Then—they run again.
They find their unit.
Their friends.
Most have already crossed the line between life and death.
Some lie side-by-side, hands still linked.
One survivor whispers:
"I… I couldn't… save them…"
Then they see the children.
A four-year-old girl crawling through ash, missing a leg.
A five-year-old boy holding his injured arm, looking for his mother.
The sister collapses.
The brother doesn't cry.
"This… is what we became?"
[Scene: HQ – later that night]
Under medical supervision, the soldier rests.
"Why didn't you tell me she was the enemy?" he asks his sister.
"I hacked her phone," she says quietly.
"I'm sorry. I knew. I saw the messages.
You protected her since high school… but she never had a heart.
She chose power."
"It's okay," he says.
"For one moment… when she aimed at me… I froze."
"It's over, Big Monkey. Rest. I'm here."
[A few weeks later]
He sits with a comrade who is crying.
"I… I ended three generations… two families… The last was a child. Maybe eight.
I couldn't even lift the gun near the end…"
On the rooftop, a sniper whispers:
"Bro… look. That building. 1.3 km out.
It's a school.
They're hiding behind the gate."
And then—
A tank shell hits it.
He screams:
"NO! NO! They were kids!"
Then silence.
He puts down the rifle and just sits… staring.
A month later, the war ends.
They win.
They celebrate—
But they also cry.
"We lost brothers, sisters, friends, parents… children," he says.
"Today's kids make war jokes.
But… is this what we fought for?"
He looks down.
"My grandaunt lost her leg in that war.
We had to amputate her leg while wild dogs circled us.
She fought off four enemies before she collapsed."
"I was 300 meters away…
and I couldn't save her."
He closes his eyes.
"And we call ourselves humans—
The same creatures who write laws…
and still choose war."