Legion now meeting the soul of Sir Alaric, His hands accepting as Sir Alaric reaches his hands into him, along side the sword he was holding along his hands. His vision shifted as he was now in a different location, this was different compared to the previous visions, he was not viewing Sir Alaric's point of view. Instead he saw someone young, a young soldier eager to serve and protect. He looks beside him as he saw Sir Alaric beside him.

"This was 40 years before The Great War," Sir Alaric said, his voice heavy with the weight of memories. "I was quite different then—young, naive, blinded by the allure of a cause that was not my own. I often wonder, what would I tell that boy if I could meet him now?" He paused, his gaze distant. "Would I warn him of the darkness ahead, or would I let him chase his dreams, foolish as they were?"

Legion observed the spirited Alaric as he waited in line with his comrades, each soldier lost in the rhythm of their training. The air was filled with the sharp echoes of swords slicing through the wind, a cacophony of clanging armor harmonizing with the shifting hues of violet that danced beneath a stark black and white sky. "In my relentless quest for glory and fame, I became ensnared in my own ambition, believing it would elevate me," he reflected. "Little did I know, that very pursuit would weave a tapestry of tragedy around my fate."

The vision shifted, a different place from before, it was night and dark, due to his pursuit he did felt the feeling of glory and fame, but with that comes a cost. "There were one's who didn't liked my rise to fame and power. When i was young I didn't knew that, I was 35 years old at that time, filled with precious memories." Sir Alaric said. He having risen through the ranks due to his skill and honor, leads a group of elite knights, warriors who share a bond forged through years of battle and loyalty. These knights, his brothers-in-arms, have fought alongside him in countless battles.

It was on that fateful day—dark and foreboding, the moon shrouded by a blanket of ominous clouds—that my brother in arms and I huddled in our barracks. An unsettling feeling gnawed at the pit of my stomach, a premonition I couldn’t shake. The night was eerily quiet; some of Sir Alaric's men lay in restless slumber, their dreams oblivious to the doom looming just beyond the walls. A few vigilant guards patrolled the perimeter, their lamps casting flickering shadows that mingled with the darkness.

Suddenly, a figure emerged from the night, scaling the fortress walls with an uncanny grace, using the inky blackness as a cloak. The unknown assassin struck swiftly, silencing one of Sir Alaric's sentinels before he ever saw it coming. Like a wraith, the intruder slipped into the fortress, his intent clear as he made his way to the cache of explosives, well-guarded yet perilously vulnerable. A spark ignited in his hand, a flame that would spell disaster.

As he reached the gates, a malicious grin crept across his face. The explosion erupted with a deafening roar, shattering the stillness and waking the soldiers from their dreams. Chaos descended in a heartbeat, the air thick with smoke and panic as flames began to spread like wild tendrils, consuming all in their path.

Suddenly, the stillness of the night fractured under the thunderous stampede of hooves and the heavy clatter of boots. A phalanx of shadowy wraiths tore from the depths of the tree line, gliding as if born of darkness itself, mercenaries with the precision of seasoned killers. Their armor glinted off the waning moonlight, but it was not just their ominous insignias that twisted my insides—it was the sheer volume of them. Dozens? No—hundreds—barreling toward our gates like an unstoppable tide of doom.

The alarm bells erupted, shrill and desperate, a cacophony that pierced the heavy mantle of night. Sir Alaric's men vacillated, scrambling to their posts like insects disturbed from their nest. I fled to the battlements, my heart a furious drum; the night had unraveled into chaos, rife with the anguished bellows of guards, the metallic clangor as weapons were seized from their resting places, and the thunderous rhythm of ruin approaching.

“They're attacking!” someone screamed, their voice thick with the stench of panic.

I beheld the impending massacre, the shadowy tide crashing against our very existence. The mercenaries reached our outer walls, a tsunami of death, hurling hooks and ropes, scaling our defenses with a sinister elegance, like wolves on the hunt. Behind them came more legions, surging forward—their swords glinting, axes swinging, torches flickering with malicious intent. They flowed like a dark current, relentless and reeking of bloodlust.

Sir Alaric stormed to the front lines, visage carved from stone, barking orders with a voice that quaked as much from fury as it did from fear. Yet doubt gnawed at my insides—these mercenaries were no mere thugs. They threaded through the chaos like phantoms of retribution, their tactics too sharp, too rehearsed. And there, unfurled upon a banner held aloft by their captain, was the crest that chilled my very soul. My blood turned to ice.

Recognition hit like a dagger—an emblem of one of the noble houses that had pledged allegiance to us. Betrayal was a cruel knife, twisting deeper; this was no senseless raid. It was an orchestrated massacre, crafted with cruelty and malice, designed to extinguish us, to leave behind only echoes of our screams. Someone among us had summoned these harbingers of pain, and tonight, they were set to execute their vile deed.

The first of them breached our gates with a battering ram that shattered the final vestiges of resistance. Chaos erupted with a thunderous roar; the gates splintered inward, and the mercenaries poured in like a flood of hell unleashed. What followed was a grotesque carnival of slaughter—a bath of blood in which our bravest warriors floundered, outmatched by the ferocity unleashed upon them. Swords clashed; arrows whistled through the air; the earth drank eagerly from the seeping crimson. Screams pierced the thick veil of night, raw and primal, as the slaughter commenced, swift and unrelenting.

One by one, I watched my comrades fall, each thrust of a mercenary’s blade a testament to their monstrous commitment to carnage. They had not come merely for conquest—they had come for annihilation, and they were delivering on their promise.

Sir Alaric cleaved through the dark tide, muscles taut as he engaged the invaders with meticulous ferocity, yet even he, the renowned bastion of hope, could not stem the deluge for long. The air clung heavy with betrayal, an invisible shroud that ghosted among the dying as flames ignited, licking hungrily at the wooden barracks and setting the very fortress walls ablaze. Within that inferno, an ominous revelation coiled—a realization that this was merely the onset of our undoing.

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The fortress was crumbling, and with it, trust slipped silently into the void. Sir Alaric's dream of valor lay in ruins, scattered like ashes among the corpses of his fallen men, and as I stood there, engulfed in the engulfing darkness, I knew we were not merely facing annihilation but a hand of fate that had already written our end.

"In that carnage, I lost everything. My brothers and sisters who served me devotedly, the dream I had built with my own hands, shattered. I felt the weight of betrayal, my own turning against me.

'We’ll hold them off,' my lieutenant, Ivan, had said, determination etched on his face. 'You’re our leader. We can’t let you die here.'

'No! You’re all just kids!' I shouted back, desperation clawing at my throat. 'You have your lives to live. Run!'

But they stood their ground, defiance burning in their eyes. 'We’ve learned so much from you,' another soldier, Lena, spoke, her voice steady despite the chaos. 'You taught us honor, courage... we won’t abandon you.'

Before I could argue further, they knocked me out, the darkness swallowing me whole.

When I finally regained consciousness, I found myself in a carriage, the cool morning air biting at my skin. Dawn broke over the horizon, but the sight that greeted me was no morning triumph. Smoke billowed above our fortress, a grim reminder of the price of loyalty."

Sir Alaric looked around as only a few of men survived the carnage, he saw there were few survivors in the carriage along side with him. He looked at them, as they were resting after everything that happened. Perhaps they still need time to process everything Sir Alaric felt at that time. After a while in their journey they stopped for a bit to take a rest, there were only six of them left. Looking back at the loyalty of my men, i don't want their precious lives to be wasted.

As I gathered them together, I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of their gaze. "I know it's been an incredibly tough journey for all of us," I began, my voice steady yet filled with emotion. "We're still healing, and that takes time. But we will heal—together.” I paused, searching each of their faces. “I want to give you the freedom to choose what comes next. You’re all so young, with so much ahead of you. You can choose to stay with me, to take that leap into the unknown, even though I can’t promise where it will lead."

I glanced at a few of them, their expressions a mix of hope and apprehension. "Or, if you feel it’s your time to leave, to abandon your old names and step into a new life, I won’t hold you back.” My voice softened, the weight of our shared experiences hanging in the air. “But please, don’t forget what I’ve taught you. Remember the moments we've shared—the laughter, the tears, the strength we found in each other. Whatever you decide, carry that with you.”

The men inspired by my words, took their time to decide, they have all the night to think about it. It was now a peaceful night, opposite from last night. I gazed above the night skies as I looked upon the stars, I wondered what was ahead of me now but all i know time will tell what is to come. The night passed by as it was now already morning, everyone has decided for themselves, their decision final. "So the five of you decided to start anew?"

The men, those who had once fought by my side, nodded in silent agreement. Their expressions were a mix of resolve and melancholy, knowing that this decision would mark the end of one chapter and the beginning of another.

"I won’t stop you," I continued, my voice steady though there was a crack deep within. I let my gaze sweep across each face, trying to commit every detail to memory—Marcus, with his strong jaw and unwavering loyalty; Daniel, whose quick wit had always been a source of laughter even in the darkest of times; Eliza, who fought with the grace and precision of a seasoned warrior but carried the quiet strength of someone who had endured more than she let on; Vivian, whose resolve never wavered, her fire burning as fiercely as it did the first day she joined us; and Benedict, whose wisdom had often been our guiding light. These were not just comrades, they were my family.

"Like I said," I continued, my voice growing softer, "this is your choice. Your lives are your own, and no one can take that from you. Not even me." The truth of those words felt heavier now as I spoke them aloud. I knew I couldn’t keep them here, couldn’t ask them to stay in a world that had become too brutal, too filled with loss. I paused, the air between us thick with unspoken emotion. "But I’ll remember your names—Marcus, Daniel, Eliza, Vivian, and Benedict." I spoke each name carefully, as if by saying them, I was binding their memories to me.

The silence that followed was full, not with awkwardness, but with the understanding of what was being left behind. We had faced death together more times than I could count, fought in battles where it seemed impossible to survive, yet somehow we had. But now, as they stood before me, I could see it in their eyes—they wanted something more. They wanted to live. They wanted to taste freedom in a way that war had never allowed them to.

Marcus was the first to step forward, his eyes filled with a deep, unspoken gratitude. "You’ve been more than a leader to us, Sir Alaric," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "You’ve been like a brother. No matter where we go, or what we do, we’ll carry your lessons with us." He placed a hand over his heart, a gesture of respect that didn’t need words.

Daniel, usually quick to crack a joke, seemed more subdued than I had ever seen him. "We’ll miss your speeches, though," he said with a half-smile, though the sadness in his eyes betrayed him. "They were always way too long, but somehow, they always worked."

Eliza, her steely composure softening for a moment, gave a short nod. "You taught me that strength doesn’t just come from the sword, but from the heart. For that, I’ll always be grateful."

Vivian’s fiery spirit flickered for a brief moment, her hand gripping the hilt of her sword before letting go, as if releasing the past. "We’ve fought long enough, Alaric," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "It’s time for a new fight—one for peace."

And Benedict, the eldest and wisest of them all, simply bowed his head. "You once told me that we fight not for ourselves, but for each other. You’ve done that, my friend. Now it’s time for us to fight for ourselves."

I stood there, silent, feeling a deep ache in my chest that I couldn’t quite describe. They were right to go. I knew that. But it didn’t make it any easier to watch them leave. I had always seen myself as their protector, their leader—but now, I had to let them go.

"May the road ahead be kind to you," I finally said, my voice hoarse with the weight of the moment. "And may you find the peace we all fought so hard for."

One by one, they turned and walked away, their figures fading into the morning light. As I watched them go, I whispered their names again, committing them to memory: Marcus, Daniel, Eliza, Vivian, and Benedict.

They were no longer soldiers of war. They were free.

He watched them as they left, aboard the carriage, going towards the unknown, while they are leaving over the horizon, i looked to my left, looking at the one soldier that stayed. "why did you decided to stay? Lydia?"

Lydia turned, her eyes glistening with a mixture of determination and sorrow. “I stayed because I refuse to let their sacrifices be in vain,” she replied, her voice steady. “Each of them carried a part of this burden, and I cannot simply walk away from it. I want to honor them by forging a new path.”

Sir Alaric, the enigmatic leader of their small band, had always drawn her in with his vision of a world reborn. “You’re not afraid?” I asked, my heart pounding with uncertainty.

“Fear is a luxury we can’t afford,” she said, glancing back at the distant figures of their comrades. “They chose freedom, yes, but I choose purpose. This journey isn’t just about survival; it’s about rebuilding.”

As we began to walk, the sun broke through the clouds, casting golden rays on the path ahead. With each step, I felt the weight of our past lift, if only slightly. Sir Alaric led the way, his silhouette a beacon against the dawn.

“Where do we go?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

“To where hope still breathes,” he replied, eyes fixed on the horizon. And so, we walked, ready to discover what lay beyond the unknown.