As the sun sank beneath the horizon, casting long shadows over the bustling street, a young adult, appearing no more than twenty years old, was mercilessly dragged across the rough asphalt. His knees scraped against the tar, leaving behind trails of blood, while his bruised face and tattered clothes told a story of agony and despair. A towering man, with muscles bulging under his taut skin, gripped the young man by the neck and forcefully slammed his head against a weathered wooden slab.
Amidst the chaos, a man donning a tailored suit stepped forward, holding a microphone adorned with an emblem of a sinister bird. The mere sight of the emblem sent shivers down the spines of onlookers, instantly capturing their attention. With a commanding presence, the man addressed the crowd, his voice amplified through the speakers.
"Good evening, gentlemen!" he announced, his tone laced with authority. "Stephen Cropter, as you all know, has committed multiple acts of treason and blasphemy against our great king. He who stands above all has ordered the execution of this treacherous pig! Let this serve as a warning to those who dare to rebel, for they too shall meet the same fate!"
The colossal man, holding an axe with an ominous glint, stood ready to sever the traitor's head from his body. One would expect Stephen to be consumed by fear and devastation, faced with such a grim fate. However, to everyone's surprise, a chuckle escaped his lips, gradually escalating into a manic laughter that echoed through the night. The crowd fell silent, their astonishment palpable, yet the man in the suit regarded Stephen with an expression of utter disgust.
"What are you staring at?!" he bellowed, his voice tinged with rage. "Kill him!" In one swift motion, the axe descended, its deadly trajectory aimed directly at Stephen Cropter's vulnerable neck.
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War, a haunting testament to human conflict, engulfs nations in its relentless grasp, leaving devastation and despair in its wake. It arises from the intricate tapestry of political tensions, territorial ambitions, and ideological clashes, woven through the fabric of history. Men and women are thrust into the harrowing theater of battle, where courage and fear intertwine, and lives hang precariously on the precipice of annihilation. Amidst the deafening roar of gunfire, the piercing cries of anguish, and the acrid scent of destruction, the essence of humanity often withers, replaced by an insatiable thirst for dominance.
Throughout history, the world has borne witness to numerous wars, ranging from local conflicts to extended periods of violence between major powers. Yet, none have equaled the sheer magnitude of death and devastation inflicted by the Second World War. It stands as a somber testament to the darkest depths of human conflict, leaving an indelible mark on the annals of time. The toll it exacted on humanity is staggering, with estimates ranging between 70 to 85 million lives lost. Such an immense loss of life serves as a haunting reminder of the tragic consequences that arise when nations and ideologies clash in a maelstrom of violence and destruction.
With such a gruesome reminder in our history, most of us are glad that the Allied Powers had won the war. Knowing the atrocities committed by the Axis Powers, we could only imagine what the world would have been like had they won... This time, you don't have to imagine. See it for yourselves.
Hitler's strategic brilliance, coupled with a fanatical devotion from his followers, unleashed devastation across Europe. The horrors of his blitzkrieg tactics tore through nations, leaving a trail of destruction and shattered lives in their wake. The cries of the innocent and the helpless reverberated through war-torn streets, echoing a sorrowful symphony of loss and despair.
Amidst the chaos, the Allied powers found themselves powerless to counter Hitler's calculated onslaught. The valiant efforts of resistance fighters and the courage of those who dared to defy his regime were overshadowed by overwhelming odds. The once-illuminated beacons of hope dimmed as Hitler's dark cloud descended upon the world.
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Britain, once known for its indomitable spirit, succumbed to the might of the Nazi war machine. The proud island nation fell beneath the weight of oppression, its people forced to endure the yoke of tyranny. The streets of London, once bustling with life, became a somber reminder of a lost freedom, where shadows danced upon the ruins of a broken civilization.
The Soviet Union, too, faced a dire fate. Hitler's relentless advance crushed their resistance, leaving a scarred landscape littered with the remnants of a once-proud nation. The dreams of a brighter future for the Soviet people turned to ashes as the iron grip of fascism tightened, extinguishing any glimmer of hope that remained.
The United States, despite its late entry into the war, fought desperately against the tide of darkness. But even the resilience of a nation founded on principles of freedom and liberty could not stave off the inevitable. The once-illustrious cities were marred by the imprints of war, and the shattered dreams of countless lives lingered in the hearts of the American people.
The whole world was enslaved by one person, oppressed by his rule, destroyed by his might. Resistance was futile, freedom was but an ideal of the past, and the world had fallen into a clockwork that ticked at the pace set by the ruler. For a century, the world remained under the grasp of the Nazis, but everything changed in the year 2045.
It was the 100th anniversary of the Nazis' victory in the Second World War, and just like the previous years, there was to be a parade held in the capital of the world, Berlin, Germany. Since it was the 100th anniversary, people were excited for the special parade. They were told even Hitler would attend the parade. Naturally, a large number of people came to Berlin, and the celebrations started.
However, in the midst of the celebration, an explosion caught the attention of everyone. From the smoke, two silhouettes could be seen. One was that of a man with a staff, and the other looked like the epitome of physical strength. These two figures would eventually free the world... these two would eventually unite the world... fix the world and give rise to the age of miracles.
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A young boy, no older than ten, found solace by the side of a fast-flowing river. Despite his tender age, his eyes carried a weariness that spoke of an old office worker toiling through endless nights. The dull blue hue in his eyes seemed to hold secrets beyond his years. With a pen in hand and a piece of paper before him, he diligently scribbled a series of numbers, his brow furrowing in deep concentration.
"STEVEN!!" A piercing, high-pitched voice shattered the tranquility, reaching the boy's ears from behind. He turned his head slowly, his gaze meeting the source of the sound—a young girl who appeared to be a year or two younger than him. With a faint grunt escaping his lips, he rose from his seated position, taking a moment to brush off the dirt from his clothes before stretching his limbs with deliberate slowness.
As he faced the girl, his demeanor seemed to exude an air of resignation. His eyes, once filled with the weight of experience, now carried a hint of annoyance, as if he had been disrupted from a profound state of contemplation. Despite this, he maintained a composed posture, not allowing his frustration to completely overshadow his handsome countenance.
"Where were you? You know Mum gets worried when you disappear like this," the young girl complained.
"I know, Em. I really do. Trust me, but sometimes I just need some time alone. It's incredibly hard to concentrate in the village when everyone looks at me with either sympathy or disgust," Steven sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping as he walked forward with his hands raised in a gesture of surrender.
Emily immediately yanked Steven's hand and started dragging him to their house.
"Come on, sis. It's not like I am going to run away!" Steven protested.
On the way to their abode, they encountered another boy whose age was similar to Emily's. The boy grinned mischievously as he looked at both of them and slowly approached with his hands behind his head.
"Heh, if it isn't Steven Cropter, the incompetent fool of the village! The talentless one!" the man, Rufus, taunted.
"Shut up, Rufus!" Emily retorted, her frustration evident. Nonetheless, she continued walking towards their house. "I still don't understand why you hang out with that talentless guy, Em!"
"Maybe instead of trying to understand my sister, you should try understanding your surroundings," Steven replied nonchalantly, causing a confused expression to cross Rufus's face.
"What?" Rufus managed to stutter out before tripping over a rock and falling flat on his face.
Emily stopped and glanced at Rufus before turning to her brother. "I still don't understand how you do that. Can you see the future or something?" she questioned, curiosity filling her voice.
"Math" Steven simply stated, shrugging off Emily's bewildered expression. "You and I know that makes absolutely no sense," Emily muttered, shaking her head. She then resumed their path home.
Despite being labeled as useless by most of his village, he never believed it. Deep down, he knew he was special, more so than anyone on the island. However, he never could have anticipated that this self-proclaimed "talent" would bring nothing but misery and misfortune to his doorstep.