"In the labyrinth of self, the mirrors reveal our true essence."
- Memoirs of Emperor Medici II, Hallowed be His name
It was a great day to kill the gods.
The broken battlegrounds tell a story - one of how, when cornered, even the most foolish beasts become agents of destruction. Strewn across the tripartite clash were the empty brigandines of foot soldiers, the torn cloaks of diplomats, and above all, the shattered throne of emperors.
The Caesari heralded conquest; the Medici heralded faith; the Qin heralded power. All were equal in the face of carnage. With the guidance of their emperor, the subjects did not fear death - nay, they feared disgrace to the nation; disgrace to their calling; disgrace to their name.
It was thus that magnificent phoenixes scorched the earth, undeterred by raging storms of holy light pouring from manifested sepulchres. In the north, bright, effulgent robes draped over neat lines of Caesari infantry became bloodstained as cohort after cohort fell to the enchanted catapults of the Qin; in the south, tormented screams echoed from dilapidated priests of the Medici impaled upon unrelenting pikes.
In just a day, thousands dyed the plains - in a week, millions.
Precious as troops may be, their sole worth were as catalysts; demonstrable representations of an empire's might. For when troops fall, the emperor rises - but when the emperor rises, the nation crumbles.
Such was when majestic horns shook the clouds; from the heavens above, amidst a canvas of resplendent clouds, descended the Medici's Imperial Seal. Adorned with imagery of the cross, emblazoned with the tendrils of glory - yet, despair shook the entire battlefield.
When one Seal is unleashed, only another may stand in its way - and when a Seal spells the end of a tripartite war, the continent itself would be fortunate to be left standing.
Emerging atop the Caesari and Qin thrones were their respective Seals: crossed blades engraved on a plain of swords for the former war-driven, and a golden crown illuminated by sacrificial offerings for the latter modern dynasty. Their fates concluded, the various subjects took a knee in the direction of their thrones and prayed for swift death.
As if answering their prayers, the respective emperors bathed in the light of their Imperial Seals, absorbing their power as the skies above trembled under the concentration of distilled might.
Emperor Medici II struck first, encasing the battlefield in a dome of sacred crucifixes. Caesar III followed, manifesting illusory armies resembling that of his great-grandfather when he conquered Germanica. Qin primus summoned stack after stack of books - and tossed them all into a fire, engulfing Medici's dome in wrathful flames.
The first clash massacred nearly all the infantry; the second buried their bodies; the third massacred the earth itself. As boom after boom rang down on the soil, the heavens wept and the world followed.
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Seven days and seven nights passed before the first utterance of this conflict - Medici, having exhausted his stored faith, begged for a ceasefire. Caesar and Qin obliged, and ceased fighting amongst themselves to launch a devasting finisher on Medici. His last words were undignified for an a common peasant, much less an emperor - but the desperation within them still set his Seal ablaze.
In rage and confusion over the death of its holder, the Medici Seal gathered its energy and moved to project it outwards, in a move not just to annihilate Caesar and Qin, but the entire planet.
In retaliation, the other seals did the same - lighting the skies ablaze with tri-coloured beams converging on the centre of the battlefield. The resulting ray of light pierced both heaven and earth, cracking the very tectonic plate they were fighting over. Caesar perished instantly, alongside the tripartite's reinforcement armies around a hundred kilometres away - those who survived were caught up in the splitting of the continent and fell into the chasm, never to be seen again.
Walking amongst the burnt corpses and the fire-ridden landscape was emperor Qin the first, now but a husk of his former self. Coughing, stumbling, and raging at his Seal for abandoning him - for it had long ago flew away in search of his heir, thinking Qin dead. It was then when he made a vow to upturn the heavens and destroy the traitorous source of his power, yet this fact would be forever hidden from his descendents - who continually wield his old Seal and praise his memory.
He walked and walked for days on end, trying to find an escape to this nightmarish hellscape - yet all he could see were scorched earth and blackened corpses.
In his final steps, he stumbled across an infant no more than half a metre wide, eyes wide open and hidden in the swaddles of her deceased mother. Although the parents' faction colours were long ago burnt, Qin could tell by a cracked pendant of crossed spears that she was a progeny of the Caesari. The half-mad emperor's primal instincts almost kicked in to throttle the girl on the spot, yet a moment of clarity made him realise that allegiances were meaningless in this cruel, unending land of death. Even if he was the emperor, he was dying, frail, and had nobody to pass on his legacy.
As Qin looked upon the girl's intelligent eyes, he took off the keepsake that prevented his death at the conflagration days prior - now without shine or lustre: a simple ring - and slipped it onto her finger. Qin christened her Eleanor, Greek for a shining ray of light that may pierce the heavens, laying with her a futile hope to one day continue his legacy.
With the last ounce of his pride, Qin spoke words subconsciously resonating across the realm, enshrining the death of the last first-generation emperor.
> "In the second year of my reign as regnant crown prince, We ascended the throne and became Qin primus, claiming the first Imperial Seal as Our own."
>
> "In the fourth year of this Qin's reign, We subjugated the eastern peninsula and expanded our empire by five billion men, establishing our Regal Dynasty."
>
> "In the eighteenth year of Our reign, We burnt the false history smearing Our glorious empire and made the truth known to all, transcending our Regal Dynasty into a Noble Dynasty"
>
> …
>
> "In the nine-hundredth and sixty-one year of Qin's reign, We declared war against the infidel false empires and confronted them on the central plains. If We were victorious, our Royal Dynasty shall become an Imperial Dynasty and ascend the realm. Alas, We were not."
>
> "As We now draw the curtain on this grand stage of existence, We harbour no remorse in Our heart! Every step We have taken, every breath We have drawn, has been in unwavering devotion to the glory of the Qin Dynasty! In this moment of culmination, We shall gladly lay down Our life for the eternal honour of the Qin Dynasty!"
It was indeed a great day to kill gods.