They came in droves. Those monsters from Aether. An attack from them wasn’t out of the ordinary—we’ve been warding off their hostile advances for years now. Those greedy mongrels want our phildrons, you see. They have never once asked for a friendly trade between nations, no. They want it by force. Such is the nature of a society that views those who do not share the same twisted values they take so much pride in as less than human.
Our impenetrable mana walls have protected us from their evil all this time, but today—today was different. For the first time in what feels like eons, I can see the vast forest that surrounds this nation. The walls that sheltered everyone who calls Millinggarde home are now gone, each of them left with gaping holes. The methods used to penetrate our once-dense magic wall were beyond our comprehension. The weapon used was suspiciously familiar to ours, but that can’t be right.
The time to think is a privilege that I lack, and I fear that I—or rather, we—are about to be stripped of even more. The cacophony of frantic children fleeing to safety, the screams of even more frantic mothers desperately calling out to them against the backdrop of the vermilion skies, and the unbearable sounds of raging tanks flattening everything in their path, leaving nothing but trails of crimson—this is a scene only akin to depictions of purgatory.
The place I once felt most secure in has now turned into an uninhabitable Gehenna. I suppose nothing lasts forever. I have no doubt that I shall remain standing after this war is over. The world I live in will not change—only those who run it will. I comfort myself with that little thought in mind. My only duty now is to welcome our new leaders with a warm embrace.
“How did they melt through those walls?!” A voice yells out, clearly short of breath, running in the opposite direction of the raging tanks. That is a question I have been asking myself. Scores of people rush past me as the assailants advance with unbelievable speed. The pebbles in the area dance freely in midair as the aggressive rumbling of the heavy machinery grows louder. I stand firm, unmoving, awaiting my fate. If they let me live, then I will live. If they wish to execute me, then I will die. The will of the strong is the only will that matters.
Stolen novel; please report.
“What are you doing just standing there?! Do you have a death wish, lad? Let’s run to safety!” An elderly man yells at me, and before I even have time to humor him with a response, he pulls my arm. My frail body is not strong enough to offer any resistance, and I am dragged along, pulled by the old man to his perceived place of ‘safety.’ I am at a loss for words. I am not brave enough to tell him that I have already resigned myself to my fate, and now that I am fleeing with him, I will be welcomed with extreme punishment once this invasion is over.
The Nation of Magic and Iron—that is what they called it. The progressive nation of Millinggarde got its name a couple of hundred years ago. Shunned by the sun for most of the year, it can hardly be described as a warm tourist destination, nor can it be lauded for its bright and beautiful scenery. However, it has no shortage of brilliant individuals who have created a thriving utopia by effectively utilizing the resources they were burdened with to their fullest potential.
Buildings, roads, and even furniture are made completely of iron and coated in weak magic. Iron—a resource that this nation has capitalized on and monopolized. The sought-after metal has been a useful bargaining tool for the country for as long as the city has existed. It was never clear why eighty percent of the world’s purest iron is located within this country. Some nations have turned hostile in the pursuit of that which is not theirs. They survive only on unrefined iron, which does not mix well with magic.
“Give us that iron, or we’ll take it by force!” That is what the leader of the elitist neighboring country has been threatening to do for the past decade. This threat has always been somewhat comical to the citizens of Millinggarde because Aether is the most advanced and efficient nation in the entire world. They cannot be classified as a progressive nation anymore—they already are as developed as any nation can be. But… but they are one resource away from reaching the absolute zenith of development. The resource that Millinggarde so firmly latches onto.
The country is run by a group of scientists and engineers who have converted a metallic wasteland into an impenetrable fortress. Walled off by dense iron coated in a layer of weak magic, the nation has exhausted many hostile battalions. Yet, the very security that has protected it for so long has led to the birth of complacency. The once ironclad resolve of its founders has now grown brittle—a result of the many years of peace and security it has enjoyed. Those who are said to still carry the will of their predecessors are the numerous scientists and engineers who govern the country.