Fifth Entry

I had promised myself that I would stop keeping this diary. However, it's one of the few things that keep me sane in the face of this war. I don't remember a time when we weren't battling; that's the hardest part.

My mother and father went to the front when I was still a child, almost a baby. I was basically raised by those who lived on my street. But I promised myself that this would never happen to my children.

I will be better. I won't go to war.

Seventh Entry

She accepted. She accepted!

The most beautiful girl in my town, the most lovely and intelligent, agreed to marry me.

I've never been so happy. They all tell me that marrying is foolish, especially while we're at war. That I should only worry about serving on the front line and stop dreaming of a tranquil life.

Ninth Entry

We've set the wedding date. I still don't know how it will be, but at least it will be quick. After that, we'll move; I've prepared a more remote house where we'll be able to farm.

I never imagined I'd be a farmer, but the more I thought about it, the better the idea became.

Eleventh Entry

She's pregnant—with twins. I don't know if I'm prepared for this responsibility. When she came to talk to me, I was pale with fear.

Unfortunately, we only have each other.

Twelfth Entry

They were born healthy; now, I'm the father of a girl and a boy.

They say it's the perfect combination, but I don't really care that much.

The farm is going well; they've finally understood that they need food being planted to serve others instead of trying to drag me into the war.

Sixteenth Entry

The children are doing well. My daughter is so smart; she's the best among the children in the region. My son is tall and strong—I never imagined having a son like that.

I'm afraid of what they're teaching him. I don't want him to desire to go to war; I've managed to protect them until now—they don't need to participate in this.

However, every time I explain to him why we don't get involved, they call us cowards. I'd like to know how they'd live if I didn't plant what they eat.

Twenty-First Entry

My love departed today. She was in the city when we were attacked. A falling building struck her.

If it weren't for my children...

Twenty-Second Entry

I'm sorry. It took me a long time to have the courage to write again. I know it's best for me, but it's still hard.

My children and I are fine. We've survived my wife's passing. I'm better; the children still suffer from her absence, but we'll overcome.

Twenty-Third Entry

It's tough to care for a girl without her mother. My neighbors have helped a lot, but I still feel like I'm improvising most of the time. I just hope she doesn't hate me when she's older.

My son is doing well; he's intelligent and strong. But he continues with foolish ideas in his head. Yesterday, he said he would join the army when he grows up.

Thirty-First Entry

My daughter is going to get married. She fell in love last spring. But it was with a damn soldier—I don't know his rank, but he only wears the best clothes and promises her the world.

She's going to move with him to some planet closer to the battlefront.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

At least I still have my son.

Thirty-Third Entry

He heard. HE HAD TO HEAR?!

Someone told him they were doing another round of enlistment.

SONS OF A BITCH!

He's decided he wants to go; there's nothing I can do.

I don't know what else to do.

Thirty-Seventh Entry

This will be the last time I write something in this diary.

My son returned.

After two long years, he returned.

In a coffin.

Fuck aliens.

Fuck army.

They had to take him from me.

Forty-First Entry

I've learned what I need to do to find peace.

I need to repay these aliens for what they've done to my family.

--

--

He closed the diary, placing one of his hands on the leather cover. He tried to remember how many years he'd been in this profession.

‘I don't even remember anymore,’ the man thought.

It was his last passion. His son and daughter were no longer with him, and his great love had already departed.

‘I will take every last drop of their blood before I leave this place,’ the man said to himself.

It was his second time that day descending those dungeons. The staircases he was traversing were in shadows, hiding the passage of several others who worked in the dungeon prison.

The environment was overwhelmed by dark stones worn by time. Some light beams reached that depth, symbolizing a last hope for those in the ruins.

On the ruin's floor were dozens of enormous chains, which had restrained all types of enemies in the past. Once used against political opponents or even those of a different religion, they were now used to guard beings of other races.

‘Executing them is too easy; they need to be tortured. Broken. Each day, I want them to be closer to begging for their own death,’ the man thought as he descended the stairs.

Each step was more irregular than the last. So many had used them that they had worn them down over the centuries.

At the end of the stairs was a long corridor with hundreds of metal gates, all stained by time. The doors and their locks were overly rusty.

‘They took all my prisoners; only a few remain,’ the man sighed as he entered the last cell.

He approached the alien who was hanging, delivering a punch to his ribs.

‘This one is in bad shape; he'll die if he continues like this. It's time to wake up,’ he thought before finally speaking to the hanging monsters.

HUARK

--

--

- Oliver -

"Go fuck yourself, you piece of shit. I already told you I don't understand pig language," Oliver shouted at the monster before him, spitting the rest of his saliva in his face.

For the second time that day, the Ork emerged from the shadows of the dungeon. His skin was yellowish; the boy didn't know if it was natural for an Ork or simply a hallucination.

‘I've been having many of those lately,’ the boy thought. Even now, he still felt as if he had his right arm, but whenever he turned his head to the side, he could see where it had been severed.

Besides that, occasionally, the boy could hear the sound of notifications and even see the screen of his Status Page.

However, he no longer wore his gauntlet.

‘I'm going crazy. I don't even know how many days it's been since we got here,’ the boy tried to count.

In the first days, he tried counting the number of times the sunset, but he soon gave up.

‘But what if on this planet a day isn't twenty-four hours? Do I still count it as a day?’ he wondered.

The Ork opened a wide smile, stretching his thick, cracked lips, and his fierce eyes shone in the dungeon's darkness. That expression seemed to be a mask for all the cruelty and torture he had made the three of them endure.

The creature's body was enormous; he carried two heavy metal shackles. Anyone looking at him might think he was a prisoner and not the dungeon's torturer. Around his broad waist was a belt that held up his pants, also worn and stained with blood—the witnesses of his other brutal acts.

HUORG

The torturer made more gestures and sounds to the boy, turning him around in his chains so he was facing away. The creature pulled out a massive whip with several tails and began to lash Oliver's back.

Only when rivers of blood were running down his back did he stop. The Ork didn't want to kill him—just break his sanity.

‘He didn't need much more to achieve that,’ the boy thought melancholically.

His only remaining strength while hanging in that dungeon was his companions. To his left was Katherine; to his right was Isabela.

Both were unconscious; they had been the victims of the first torture session. It was always like that—they were first, and he was second.

Oliver couldn't understand why, but it didn't matter much. What he was worried about was the girls' appearance.

Katherine, who once had a rosy face and long golden hair, now looked sunken. Her hair resembled straw. She could barely stay awake most of the day.

Isabela wasn't much better. Although she tried to put on a hopeful façade, she was rapidly wasting away.

All three spent their days naked, hanging from chains—something that strangely made them lose their sense of shame, discarded as soon as they began to endure hunger, thirst, and especially pain.

Ding

"Ah! I can't stand hearing that anymore. I don't have the damn system here; I lost the damn gauntlet. What the hell is this notification?!"