Months had already passed since Roy first purchased his strange, antique mirror. It was now the 20th of December, 2026. Christmas was fast approaching, yet despite it being a season of joy and celebration, Roy found himself feeling isolated from the world.
After the burial ceremony had ended, Roy exited the mirror and collapsed immediately onto his bed, his face still etched with depression.
However, the next morning, he received a call from his family inviting him for drinks. Roy, deeply valued his parents above all else and could not refuse a reunion after years of separation.
Yet strangely, when he arrived, he was stunned when he discovered it was no ordinary gathering.
Nearly every descendant of his lineage had participated. Distant uncles, aunts, nephews, and nieces—everyone who bore the family name had come.
What stunned him most was the presence of his eldest brother, Roland. An ex-convict sentenced to ten years for firearm trafficking, Roland had been released only six months ago.
His older brother's presence utterly left Roy in shock.
"Roy, you bastard. I didn't expect you'd actually come!" Roland shouted, waving from a distance with an enthusiastic smile as he approached Roy with an excited pace.
"Older brother," Roy replied awkwardly, scratching his head as he forced a wide smile, "you're here as well."
"I just got out six months ago. Sorry for not informing you, but It's really good to see you, little brother."
The two laughed softly, as if trying to hide their awkward expressions.
The brothers continued their conversation for hours, their expressions slowly resembling owners who had finally found a long-lost pet.
When evening arrived, the family proceeded with its usual tradition, fireworks.
They gathered in the fields, still chatting and laughing with visible enthusiasm.
Roy's uncle stepped forward, holding a firework in hand and lit the first fuse.
The family watched as colorful explosions dotted the night sky, smoke layered the atmosphere that smelled strongly of powder.
When the fireworks faded, the family moved to their other tradition: exchanging firearms.
This wasn't strictly illegal, as most of the family held licenses, though a few were... outliers.
Roland led Roy to a rundown shop. Inside was a massive cache of firearms and explosives—weapons Roland had hidden before his sentence andithout another word, Roland handed him a .45 caliber pistol, a weapon capable of punching a hole through a man's chest, and leave them lifeless on the ground.
"Here, keep it," Roland said casually, as if handing over a toy.
Roy stared at the weapon with utter confusion, as if still clarifying wether it was a joke, still Roy accepted the pistol with genuine appreciation, and even shamelessly asked for a grenade.
Roland laughed loudly, clearly not trying to hide his amusement, he picked up an oval shaped, mettalic object from a wooden box, and tossed it toward Roy like throwing a common stone.
Roy immediately felt his face drain of all color, he scrambled frantically to catch the grenade as cold sweat began to pour from his face.
"You bastard, what if that exploded? We would utterly be dead by now." Roy said angrily, cursing his mischievous brother with visible fury.
The reunion continued with its routine: drinking, eating, and shooting aimlessly like a pack of people suddenly preparing for war.
---
Meanwhile, inside Roy's mirror, another scene of disciplined chaos was unfolding.
Inside the secret underground military facility, six hundred elite soldiers stood frozen in wide, open square. Their presence radiated an aura of absolute authority, their bodies unmoving, their discipline unwavering.
These were the men personally selected by Roy to be the first-ever firearms unit, a force that could inevitably bring destruction to the world if left unchecked—not with spears, not with swords, but with small-caliber bullets capable of piercing through armor and shields.
While chaos reigned in the city above, these men had fully dedicated themselves to two things and two things only: marksmanship, and ideological education.
Roy had personally educated them; he knew that if these soldiers fell to corruption and wickedness like the Western Army, the land would surely fall into ruin and chaos.
Now, their training was complete. They were issued weapons and fully loaded magazines, urged to remain loyal to Lord Zudra as they stepped into a future that could lead to their own destruction.
Sor Sogon personally distributed the arms, these soldiers were the same group who had followed him through countless hardship, and now, watching his former men, a hint of pride touched his face, yet anxiety lingered in his heart like a stubborn disease.
And soon, the birth of the firearm unit was finally established.
---
Far to the west of Zudrath City, an army marched at a lazy pace. Their formation loose and crooked, as if discipline was no longer important.
At the head of the column rode the Grand Marshall of the Western Kingdom, Ahn Dey.
Beside him were General Gar Do and Bho Thong, their posture straight, almost confident.
"We will arrive at the city soon, General," Bho Thong said confidently, his fingers pointing southward. "Just a few more kilometers and we'll see the city walls."
"Then we march faster, urge the men to double their pace and march southward at speed." General Ahn Dey commanded, his voice loud and clear.
Ahn Dey narrowed his eyes. "If there truly is a city that can feed fifteen thousand soldiers with ease..." he muttered silently, his mind racing. "If their leader helps us, that is the best outcome. But if they refuse, I will have no choice but to force them into submission."
Ahn Dey pondered deeper into his thoughts, calculating negotiations, preparing arguments, as if about to attend a debate.
However, as they marched toward Zudrath City with open confidence, they were unaware that their position has already been mapped by scouts that were lingering on nearby mountains.
---
Back in the underground base, Sor Sogon and Rak Mhan stood before a kneeling scout.
"Speak,"Sor Sogon commanded.
"A vast army has appeared from the west, numbering twenty thousand. They are already ten kilometers away from the city."
Sor Sogon's expression turned dark and gloomy, like a storm cloud settling over the room.
"Prepare the soldiers," Sor Sogon said coldly. "War is coming."