A God's Chess Piece

SPECIAL CHAPTER 2

Altrea.

450 years prior.

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I could hear the loud rumbling of thunder from miles away, a storm is brewing. Willing my horse to stop, my eyes peered across my tired comrades, their expressions filled with grief and helplessness.

It's no use. With the way we are now, we'll probably last a week at most.

"We'll stop here and rest for today. Seek shelter and some firewood", I commanded in a stern voice.

My men nodded their heads in compliance.

The sky was getting darker by the minute and the rotting smell of flesh and blood from the injured men situated behind the cavalry are getting harder to bear. I quickly dismounted and went to the wagon where the injured are being treated.

"How are they?" I asked.

A pale, thin woman with jet-black hair and amber eyes faced me. Her eyes were bloodshot due to the lack of sleep but they held the faint glow that I was far too familiar with – hope.

"Six of them are currently showing good progress. I'm sure they'll be up and running after a few days but we have two who are in such grave conditions. If they catch a cold in the next few days, they probably won't make it", she answered.

I clenched my fists in an effort to subdue the anger I was feeling,

"I see."

The land was in a state of war. Everywhere you can find mangled bodies and destruction.

Everything in this world makes me feel sick...

"Commander, are you okay? You look pale"

Her soft voice suddenly snapped me back from my reverie. I nodded and quickly excused myself.

Feeling a bit refreshed upon breathing the air outside, I proceeded to walk towards the direction of the smell of burning wood and smoke. My men seemed to have found a play where we could stay for the night.

I heaved a sigh and looked up at the sky, wondering if there will ever come a time of peace. But then again, will I be able to live normally in a peaceful environment? I've been a soldier for 10 years. My path had always been filled blood and grief that I've grown accustomed to the smell of my rotting soul.

In my 24 years of living, I thought I have seen the worse of the worst, men sacrificing other fellow men in order to save themselves, women grieving for their lost sons and husbands, and children losing both innocence and security of their homes. Though I seem to sound much of a hypocrite when I say that it pains my heart when it is with my own blood-stained hands, have I laid down my judgement of the sword.

"In another life, I hope to live in a world without war, in a world where magic isn't used to kill and youth and innocence aren't stained by the cruelty and greed of man."

I sigh.

I will forever regret the lives I lost, the lives I took, and the ones that I gave chances to. This world is much too cruel.

And of course, my dream is yet but another pipe dream.

I quickly headed to my tent and my attention was caught by the map hanging on the board.

Altrea.

A world filled with prosperous people and hope. A world blessed by the gods.

HA!

Gods. What foolish creatures.

When the first king, Celes, disappeared, all went to hell. Some say he became too powerful and ascended into godhood. Others say that he left Altrea to fend for themselves.

If it weren't for him, all of this bloodshed wouldn't have happened.

I clenched my fist. I was born without any sort of blessing from any god. I have been mocked, ridiculed, and humiliated. But I raised through the ranks and became commander because of sheer effort and determination. I worked day and night, soiled my clothes in a sea of blood and filth to get where I am now.

And yet the gods continue to hate on me.

They don't hear our cries, our prayers. They look down on us mortals because we're weak.

Angrily, I tore off the map in front of me and punched my desk.

"To hell with it all! Gods be cursed I hope you all suffer!"

I felt my blood boil and a strong force suddenly ignited in my veins.

I looked down on my hand. A swirl of dark aura was glowing. Magic? I thought I didn't have magic.

A smile crept up my lips.

Of course. Who would have thought? Why would I curse the gods when I can give them a taste of my own divine retribution.

I laughed maniacally.

Gods or mortal. You will all suffer. The way I did.

Especially you.

Celes! 

Author's note: Whose POV is this? Any guesses?