Oh yes, you wish to learn about humans, do you?

A tragedy, yes... They're twice cursed, you see? Born with the capacity to love, and born with the capacity to hate. And therein lies their misfortune, for humanity loves to hate! Humans love... violence. They crave it. And without fail, century after century, they always give rise to it. 

Come! Look deep into the heart of the Tritor Forest, and there you will find Elurius. Carved out of the ancient trees surrounding it, the first people to settle there fought old horrors and fended off the closest Dungeons out of sheer stubbornness. They could've retreated to the coast and lived off the sea, but no! The founders of the town tore up the twisted roots of the forest and used them to erect the first walls. Spears were thrown and spells were cast in defense of the land they claimed as their home. They wanted to fight for a place to live! Their pride demanded it! And proud does the town still stand, built upon the bodies of thousands. 

Oh, how they weep for their fallen, as if they themselves did not send their men to die!

Look north to the lush plains that stretch from horizon to horizon. See how the soil is stained crimson from the blood of countless battles. See how it's dyed a richer hue as you edge closer to Gelya, a place trespassing monsters have learned to fear. The gentle rolling hills surrounding the town are filled with traps and tripwires! Flowers, birds, and bees watch every move! Men armed with magic and bows line the tall walls of the town, bastions against anything that dares approach. See, humans fought for their place here as well, and here they remain firmly entrenched. They will not be routed out.

Most of all, look to the realm as a whole!

A plethora of creatures lie deformed and corrupted beyond their nature. Swathes of land turned barren, others grow without bound. Countless kingdoms razed to ashes, their histories long forgotten. 

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

The whole continent, mutated beyond recognition. Broken by spellcasters with too much magic at their disposal, remade by nature's insistence on enduring everything thrown at it. At the expense of the land itself, ancient Archmages and Archwizards fought until nothing was left but the echoes of their self-importance.

Once a thriving home to tens of millions of people, our continent of Aqeron is now only home to less than a hundred thousand human souls. A whole continent, brought to its knees and left in ruins, leaving the survivors with little else but the clothes on their backs.

Ah, but it's no matter!

Even in the greatest moments of peace, even during the peak of a kingdom's prosperity, humans will stoop so low as to bicker over allotments of bread. Even those who refuse to do violence fail miserably, for they crusade against their very nature!

And now you see their tragic nature laid bare before you! What pushes humanity forward if not both love and hate? Where do they build their beloved castles if not the grounds of the ones they just tore down?  

Look!

Gaze once more upon the damned. 

That old man, an ancient Mage on his deathbed. Peer into his heart, and see his contentment. He has lived a long life, and by all rights he is happy to submit to Death. 

And yet his body FIGHTS!

The magic he has taken into his body refuses to give out, and it will keep him alive for years just like this. Unable to move, unable to cast, unable to speak.

'Let go!', he screams silently! 'Let me be!', he shouts in his mind!

The brutality inherent to the construction of humans is a most horrible truth to witness, isn't it? His body wages war against his soul, one trying to outlast the other.

And that's the crux of it all. No matter how much they try to escape it, their desire for violence is inexplicably linked to their essence. To fight is to be human.

Even when the soul is satisfied, the flesh demands its own truths.