A withering flower at devil's mercy

The relentless inferno of war devoured the realms like an unquenchable firestorm, leaving only ash and despair in its wake. Its grip was merciless, spreading chaos across lands and lives alike. Commands rang out amid the din of battle, soldiers barking orders and cursing both their enemies and fate.

Erebus, a warrior forged in the crucible of violence, found himself stranded on the blood-soaked shores of the Zhonguo Republic. When he awoke on the black sands, surrounded by the remnants of carnage, his first thought was of the shipwreck. Of Luciana. She was gone. For four harrowing months, survival had been his sole focus, yet every heartbeat carried the ache of her absence.

The scattered remnants of abandoned armies had banded together in desperation. Recognizing his prowess, the soldiers turned to Erebus for leadership. Under his command, their ragged alliance found purpose. Though his resolve was unshakable, it wasn't for glory or power—it was for a single, burning goal: to find Luciana and his son, Nemesis.

Erebus's leadership transformed desperation into discipline. He hunted for the forsaken: the injured, the crippled, and the abandoned. Those who could not fight became medics and caretakers, tending to the wounded and nurturing a fledgling army. Those with strength left in their limbs were trained for battle. Even the women were enlisted—preparing meals, sewing uniforms, and mending the shattered pieces of humanity.

Within months, Erebus had forged a force from the broken and forgotten, their morale bolstered by his vision. Though their army was still finding its footing, his unyielding discipline held them together.

In his command tent, Alessio, his trusted squire, delivered the day's report.

"We're nearing the northern borders of Zhonguo. Victory could be ours by tomorrow," Alessio declared, a rare note of optimism in his voice.

Erebus, seated in silent contemplation, barely acknowledged him. War had been his life for as long as he could remember, yet the bloodshed felt increasingly hollow. The echoes of Luciana's name whispered through his mind, anchoring him to a mission far greater than the battlefield.

"We attack tonight," he announced abruptly, his tone cold and resolute. He dismissed Alessio with curt instructions, unwilling to waste another moment lingering in uncertainty.

As the camp buzzed with preparations, Erebus armed himself, the familiar weight of his flintlock pistol a reminder of countless battles fought. Mounting his steed, he rode toward what appeared to be a pile of ruins—a secret bastion hidden beneath the surface.

The entrance was well-concealed beneath dead foliage and debris. Erebus dismounted, brushing aside the camouflage to reveal a hidden passage. Descending into the depths, he reached a heavy metal door. His knocks were deliberate, a code that marked him as a trusted ally.

"What's the condition above?" a voice called from within.

"Summer night breeze," Erebus replied.

The door creaked open, revealing a scene that was almost alien to him—laughter. Orphaned children played, their smiles defying the horrors of war. Caretakers and guards nodded respectfully as Erebus entered, though their reverence always felt misplaced to him.

At first, the children had feared him, their wide eyes wary of his half-demon heritage. But over time, his quiet presence became a source of comfort. He often came here to observe, the innocence of the young a stark contrast to the blood-soaked chaos above.

"Commander," Lu Yin, a soldier stationed at the refuge, approached cautiously. "If I may ask—why do you visit this place so often?"

Erebus's crimson gaze lingered on the children. For a long moment, he remained silent. Then, in a voice weighed down by memory, he replied,

"They remind me of my son. He was only three when I lost him."

Lu Yin's eyes widened. The stoic warrior rarely spoke of his past. This glimpse into Erebus's humanity left him momentarily at a loss for words.

"And you?" Erebus asked, shifting the focus. "Do you have family left?"

"Yes, Commander," Lu Yin said, his voice tinged with sadness. "Only my younger sister. The rest of my family... they were lost when the demons attacked. My mother shielded my sister with her life. Mei Mei survived, but my home is gone."

Erebus nodded, his expression unreadable. After a pause, he issued his orders. "Tomorrow, more orphans will arrive. Move the older ones to the rear barracks. They'll train for service."

"Yes, Commander," Lu Yin responded, his respect evident.

As Erebus turned to leave, a small boy darted forward, clutching at his leg. The child's ash-grey hair and dark eyes froze Erebus in place, the resemblance to Nemesis cutting through him like a blade. Kneeling, he placed a hand on the boy's head.

"This... for you!" the boy stammered, holding up a crumpled piece of paper. On it was a simple drawing of a bird.

"What's your name?" Erebus asked gently, his voice uncharacteristically soft as to not scare the child.

"He doesn't speak much, Commander," a caretaker explained. "The medics believe he's still in shock."

Erebus pocketed the paper, his thoughts momentarily elsewhere, before rising and departing.

The twilight sky blazed with hues of red and orange as Erebus rode back to the barracks. His army prepared for the coming battle, their movements a symphony of discipline and purpose.

Though war loomed large, Erebus's mind lingered on the fragments of his past—the memory of Luciana's voice and the faint laughter of Nemesis. He had clawed his way through blood and fire for survival, but his heart burned with a singular purpose.

The next battle was just another step. Another sacrifice. Another chance to find them.

And he would not stop until he did.