Artholius — Hunger Turns Into War
Artholius was no longer a city.
It was a battlefield without an enemy.
Or maybe…
Everyone had become the enemy.
The streets were flooded.
Not with soldiers.
Not with order.
But with people.
Hungry.
Desperate.
Broken.
A man clutched a piece of stale bread like it was treasure—only to have three others jump him. Within seconds, blood spilled over something that wasn't even enough to survive a day.
A mother screamed as her child cried from hunger.
A soldier fired a warning shot.
No one stopped.
So the next bullet—
Wasn't a warning.
Order Through Fear
Military units stood in full armor.
Helmets sealed.
Weapons raised.
Emotion removed.
"Disperse immediately!"
No one moved.
Because hunger is stronger than fear.
So the command changed.
"Use force."
And just like that—
The military stopped being protectors.
They became executioners of order.
A City Without Value
Shops were empty.
Markets dead.
The Black Market—
Once the most powerful system in Artholius—
Had collapsed.
Because now—
No one had anything left to trade.
Not money.
Not goods.
Not even dignity.
Power Under Pressure
Inside the central command tower—
The air felt heavy.
The Four Great Families had begun tightening their grip.
Invisible pressure.
Constant.
Dangerous.
The message was clear:
"Fix the crisis… or lose power."
At the center of this storm sat—
The Global General.
Still.
Silent.
Thinking.
But behind that calm—
Something darker was forming.
The Problem No One Could Solve
Food reserves: Almost gone.
Food facilities: Destroyed.
Rebuild time: Too long.
Outside missions: All failed.
And outside—
Something waited.
A Level-5 BrainDead.
A being beyond understanding.
Level-4 itself required an entire battalion.
And even then—
Victory wasn't guaranteed.
So what was Level-5?
A monster?
Or something worse?
The Thought That Shouldn't Exist
The General leaned back.
Eyes half closed.
One thought repeated again and again—
"How did Alaric survive?"
Twelve elite soldiers.
Dead.
Erased.
And yet—
He returned.
Alone.
Victorious.
Impossible.
Which meant only one thing—
He was no longer just a soldier.
He was a variable.
And variables…
…are dangerous.
The Real Decision
The General's lips curved slowly.
Cold.
Calculated.
"Last time… we failed."
A pause.
"But this time…"
His fingers tapped the table.
"…there will be no mistakes."
His eyes darkened.
"Lanuk."
A whisper.
"This will be your last mission."
He leaned forward.
"And when you die…"
"…half my problems disappear."
Another thought followed—
Even darker.
"And maybe…"
"…your brother will break."
A quiet laugh escaped him.
Not loud.
Not dramatic.
But terrifying.
Because it came from certainty.
Blood for Power
He pressed a button.
A soldier entered.
Disciplined.
Respectful.
"Sir, you called?"
"Come closer."
The soldier obeyed.
"What's your name?"
"Sir… Aren."
The General smiled.
"Good."
A pause.
"Loyal soldiers like you…"
"…change history."
Aren frowned slightly.
"Sir… I don't understand—"
He never finished.
Because in the next second—
The General's hand pierced through his abdomen.
Clean.
Effortless.
Unavoidable.
Blood exploded across the room.
Aren's eyes widened.
Shock.
Pain.
Betrayal.
His lips moved—
But no sound came.
The General pulled his hand out slowly.
Letting the body fall.
Like it meant nothing.
The Real Face of Power
"Clean this."
He said calmly.
"And begin Phase One."
No anger.
No hesitation.
No regret.
Because for him—
People weren't lives.
They were tools.
And tools…
…are meant to be used.
The Stage of Lies
Hours later—
A massive crowd gathered.
Angry.
Hungry.
Desperate.
Voices clashed in the air—
"Where is the food?!"
"You failed us!"
"Give power back!"
"You're useless!"
The tension was explosive.
Then—
The Global General stepped onto the stage.
The noise didn't stop.
So the soldiers raised their weapons.
And silence was forced.
The Perfect Manipulation
The General spoke.
Calm.
Controlled.
"You blame us?"
A pause.
"You think this is our failure?"
Murmurs spread.
He stepped forward.
"When you were hiding in your homes…"
"…who was fighting outside?"
Silence.
Because guilt had entered.
"Do you even understand what we lost?"
Another pause.
"Over 200 soldiers."
Now—
The crowd wasn't shouting.
They were listening.
And that's when he struck.
"The real reason…"
"…is the Rebels."
The Birth of Hate
The crowd reacted instantly.
"Proof?!"
"Show us proof!"
The General nodded.
"Bring it."
A body was brought forward.
Covered.
Silent.
The cloth was removed.
Gasps filled the air.
The General pointed.
"This…"
"…is Aren."
"Last night…"
"…he was brutally murdered."
His voice lowered.
"He tried to save civilians."
"And for that…"
"…he was punished."
The crowd froze.
Then—
The lie deepened.
"They didn't just kill him."
"They violated him."
"They tortured him."
"And then…"
"…threw his body away like trash."
Silence.
Then—
Explosion.
Controlled Rage
"Kill them!"
"Destroy the Rebels!"
"Take revenge!"
"War!"
Just like that—
Hunger disappeared.
Replaced by hatred.
Because hunger weakens people.
But anger—
Controls them.
The General stood there.
Watching.
Satisfied.
Because now—
He didn't need food.
He had something stronger.
A direction for their rage.
The Cracked Barrier
At the edge of the city—
The barrier flickered.
Still broken.
Still unstable.
Beyond it—
Darkness moved.
Shapes.
Hundreds.
Thousands.
Watching.
Waiting.
And somewhere far away—
A man walked through the storm.
Aramis — The Storm Approaches
Covered in blood.
Eyes burning.
Body evolving.
Aramis moved toward Artholius.
Each step—
Stronger than the last.
Each breath—
Hotter.
More controlled.
But one question remained—
Would he reach in time?
Or would the city destroy itself first?
End Credit — The Truth No One Wanted
Night.
Silence.
Lanuk sat alone.
A file in his hand.
Marked:
CONFIDENTIAL — EXPEDITION PRIORITY
He opened it.
Read.
And froze.
Inside—
Clear numbers.
Clear orders.
Clear truth.
Survival Probability: 3%
A pause.
Then—
Primary Objective: Resource Retrieval
Secondary Priority: Personnel expendable
Lanuk leaned back.
Eyes closed.
A slow breath escaped him.
"…So that's it."
No anger.
No fear.
Just understanding.
This wasn't a mission.
This was an execution.
Planned.
Calculated.
Inevitable.
He opened his eyes.
And for the first time—
He wasn't thinking like a soldier.
He was thinking like someone who had nothing left to lose.
"Power doesn't protect people…
It protects itself."