Burn waged a war in a transitional world.

Every authority had integrated the outsiders' technology into both their daily lives and military strategies. Weapons—ranging from technological and mechanical to those enhanced by advanced magical knowledge—were now standard in the arsenal of the modern warrior.

In a world where even the morning cup of tea could be brewed by the same tech that powered war mechs, Emperor Burn found himself at a crossroads.

Gone were the days when a sturdy sword and a mean glare could conquer kingdoms. Now, if your warhorse couldn't sync with the battleships, you were living in the dark ages.

Burn, with all the enthusiasm of a cat taking a bath, realized it was time to upgrade his arsenal.

Not because he fancied playing with shiny new toys—oh no. Burn was more the type to admire a good ol’ sharpened stick. But apparently, when you bring an army to a tech fight, showing up with enchanted swords and spell-casting wands is considered "vintage chic" rather than practical.

The transition to tech-enhanced warfare wasn't entirely new to Burn. He'd dabbled in the outsiders' gadgets before, under the same principle that if you can't beat 'em, you might as well join 'em—or at least steal their stuff.

Protection of his people was the official line, after all. And if that meant his soldiers needed laser guns that also made espresso, so be it.

If Burn were to go to war alone, he might not need such advancements, but he was responsible for an army and a nation. Protecting his land and his people necessitated keeping pace with technological progress, making it not the first occasion Burn had acquired technology from the outsiders.

But this time was different. This time, Burn wasn't just shopping for the latest in armor-piercing rounds or cloaks that doubled as Wi-Fi hotspots.

No, he was after something far more elusive: AI. Not just any AI, though. Burn was in the market for an AI painting generator.

“Make her eyes sharper. And the color is off,” Burn sat on his throne, dictating how the AI should paint the figure in his mind.

His voice was dripping with the impatience of a man accustomed to battling more than just artistic inaccuracies. "I said that color—it's as if you've plucked it from a dreary day, not her vibrant gaze."

Around him, the hall buzzed with ministers and aides, their expressions a mix of bewilderment and curiosity. There they were, the crème de la crème of the empire, gathered not for matters of state or war, but for an art critique session led by none other than their Emperor.

"Why are we here?" whispered one aide to another, watching their leader fuss over an AI painting as if the fate of the realm depended on the perfect shade of azure.

"Perhaps it's a new strategy," mused another, "distract the enemy with beauty before the battle."

The ministers shrug their shoulders. They were on the brink of war, and their emperor was busy doing unexplainable things. But Burn was never wrong. They knew it was for something.

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Burn, oblivious to the murmurs, continued his meticulous instructions to the AI, demanding precision in capturing the ethereal beauty of the mysterious woman who haunted his thoughts.

The court looked on, puzzled, wondering if their mighty ruler had traded his sword for a brush, all while the AI, the pinnacle of outsider technology, found itself at the mercy of an Emperor's artistic vision.

"Her hair, to the right—makes it flow that way!" Burn directed, his tone brooking no argument. "The nose, taller and slimmer."

"Extend the eyelashes; they should be longer. And the jawline, make it softer," he continued, his commands echoing off the ornate walls.

"The eyebrows should float, like clouds at dawn," he declared, a note of inspiration in his voice. "And the lips, make them red. No, wait—gradient! The inside must be a deeper red."

Amidst these demands, one could almost imagine the AI, hesitating under the weight of artistic command, a virtual bead of sweat forming in its circuitry.

Generate! Generate! Generate!

Yet, after two painstaking hours, the most advanced and powerful AI painting generator at last succeeded...!

SLAM!

Emperor Burn abruptly slammed the handrest of his throne and growled, "Not pretty enough!"

However, the truth was that Burn had meticulously captured every feature of the mysterious woman with utmost precision—the pores of her skin, the subtlest beauty marks. Yet, it remained...

Incomparable to the vivid image he held in his mind.

The woman who had ensnared him in this time loop... that fucking woman...

"Why was she so beautiful?"

After two long hours of anticipation, Burn's quiet musing made the courtiers' ears perk up.

Could this finally be their empress...? Were they witnessing his search for the lady...?

"It's her face, but she barely looks alive. That woman's vibrancy is too immense to be captured by this cheap AI. Tch!" Burn clicked his tongue upon realizing the AI had reached its limit, unable to surpass its maximum capability.

Well, that was enough, still.

"Transfer this painting to paper and begin the search for the woman who resembles this. But remember, the real her is far more beautiful than this crude depiction," Burn commanded.

"Yes, Your Majesty! We will search for Her Majesty the Empress—"

"If you find her, cut off all her limbs and throw her into the dungeon," Burn coldly declared.

The man stood from his throne, continued, “Now, let us restart the war.”

This would be Burn's latest game plan. The moment she—the architect of his temporal prison—dared show her face, the order was clear: off with her limbs, but let's keep the grim reaper at bay.

Because, of course, Burn wanted to know. Why did she do it? Why him? These questions haunted him more than the prospect of redecorating his empire for the umpteenth time in three years.

Three more years? Please, that was just a blip in the grand scheme of things for Burn. A mere extended vacation in his tumultuous reign. After all, what's a bit of temporal turmoil to a man who's faced down armies?

Sure, this detour from conquering Nethermere to playing cat and mouse with a time-manipulating witch might seem like a slight... misallocation of imperial resources.

But, priorities, right?

How dare she, indeed! How dare a woman with the audacity to wield such power think she could just put Burn, the tyrant emperor, in a time-out corner?

However, given the potential for a butterfly effect, he needed to anticipate where and when this woman would emerge in the current loop. Preparation was key.

Before she could take her own life—no, even before she screamed his full name!

This time—

“Caliburn Soul—”

SLASH! SLASH! SLASH!

SPLATT! SPLATTER!

Burn was a man of his words.