There he stood tall like an old oak tree on top of a hill. His tanned skin masculine body and sullen face all were representing the nomadic wildlife he had. His people Gorgans, called him Gussar. It meant the unbowed that name wasn't given however, it was earned.

Gussar as all the Gorgan kids spend his childhood witnessing the most terrible side of humankind their cities and homes were turned to rubles then to ashes with each bomb falling from the gray sky bringing nothing but death until there was nothing remained of their past, no memory, no sign of what he can call "Life".

The soldiers that were called heroes in east or west and have been given medals for being brave and defending their land and families were a bunch of rapists and murderers who killed and did what they liked with people of Midland like their lives worth nothing. East or west they became all same for Gussar all were bunches of bastards wearing different uniforms praying upon different gods and serving under different flags but for him, they were all the same.

Instead of seeing his mother cook and tell him bedtime stories he saw how she got raped and hanged by soldiers, he never played sports with his father instead he saw how enemies made his father dance like a clown for his life then finished him with a bullet in his head, he never got to say goodbye to his little sister because she was kidnapped and probably sold to a family from one of the empires. Then there he was, alone in the Midland where humans used to be called "people" but the war turned them into a bunch of wild animals that didn't know and didn't remember anything of being a human. East and west started a war and the world suffered from it but no nation in any corner of the world experienced what Gorgans have in the Midlands. They've been in this war for fifty years but since they weren’t considered as humans only the last ten years counted for east and west.

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Gussar was a nine-year-old boy who should've been dead, sold as a slave or all the horrible things that can happen to a child of war but no he found something that all lost in the war, a purpose in the middle of all those gunshots, screams with every night crying to sleep and nightmares which turned to his dreams.

The child inside his small body died and a beast rose up. Both empires had to pay up for what they did to his life and his family, to his nation. It didn't matter if his people were called animals because in this new world there was no place for humanity and Gorgans of Midland have lost it long ago.

The world as others knew ended in the battle of zero it was the doom day for the people of both empires not because of the battle itself, no, but because of millions of fallen soldiers drowning in their blood right at the center of midlands and there lied millions of guns and all kinds of tools and weapons for a bloody future and tasty revenge.

Years passed since that day and anyone who opposed him was gutted and he had their hearts reaped apart from their chests.

He united the people of the Midlands and with endless firepower in their proposal he funded the nomadic empire of Gorgans.

His empire had no border for he wanted it all, he wanted the whole world for himself, one flag one nation, rest will be a history that won't be written in no books.

Now he was on top of the hill looking like an old oak with all the ups and downs he was there, alive a few miles away from the shining city of Vina. A gentle wind carried the sound of laughter and joy from the city but the sound was lost as soon as Gussar turned back and flipped his wrist.

Thousands of war trucks and battle vehicles, raiders with their cars and motorcycles charged. All crying "for Gorgans for Gussar" a huge cloud of dust followed his army's trail and the sound of engines and car horns filled his ears. The sound of power the sound of revenge the sound that puts fear in the heart of any living being.

run and run for you are a sheep in wolves farm.