As the dust settled, and the cries of battle were all but snuffed out, therein lies a young man. A young bloodied and battered man standing over his deceased foe. The man had pierced his sword through his adversary's chest so hard onto the ground that the very force of his attack cracked the ground and surrounding area completely.

The man breathed hard barely catching his breath. Cold sweat dripped down from his face while blood dripped out from his closed left eye socket. He was covered in head to tie with gruesome injuries.

His left eye had been stabbed out with a blade, he had a huge hole in his right side, and he had completely lost his left arm during the fight. The only thing keeping him standing up, let alone alive was his willpower. The man had personally received all these injuries solely from his deceased foe.

But this was no ordinary foe. It was a god. And not just any god. The strongest god that ever lived. The very god that nearly killed him. The one that nearly destroyed the very world he held dear. As he stopped catching his breath and finally let go of the handle on his sword, the man stared down at the eyes of the deceased god.

He thought, in the end he killed the god. He killed the god with his very own hands and made sure that the last thing the god knew before they died was that it was he who killed them, he who had humiliated them, and he alongside his comrades who had dethroned them and the other gods that came before. And that the world was free from tyrants like them.

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In the end, was it all worth it? Surrounding him, were countless corpses. Both friend and foe alike. So much was lost. It wasn't just a war. It was a war to end all wars. A war for the mortal world of Esos itself. Suddenly the man heard a voice call him out from behind. It was the voice of one of his comrades.

"Hey! Hey! You still with me!? Talk to me!" The man looked away from the corpse of the god and finally faced his friend. This man at this point in time was well built, in his late 20's, had short blonde hair, and blue eyes. He was a part of the Garuda race. A bird man hybrid race between a human and avian He was also an old and trusted friend. One of the last ones the man had. The man looked at him for a moment but then looked out at the distance as the sun was beginning to set on this bloody battlefield.

"We won. We won the world. But was it worth it?" The man asked not to look away from the distance. His friend knew what he meant. He wasn't sure exactly what to say to him at that moment. So many things went wrong. So many people lost. But he had to comfort his friend somehow. So he told him this. Words this man would never forget for the remainder of his life.

"Yes. You are right. We fought for this world. A free world where all the races can coexist with one another. Live together in happiness. To be free. Yes. A world where even Hybrids can be free."

HYBRID