Prince Albert stood atop a towering mountain, gazing down upon the humble town of Eyuplu in province 21 of the Britannic Empire. From his vantage point within the formidable mech known as 'Excalibur,' he observed the unfolding chaos below. A veil of sorrow hung heavy over the land as the soldiers of the 67th Regiment, under his command, carried out their orders to dismantle and ravage the town.

The cries of terrified townspeople echoed through the once-serene valley, their pleas for mercy resonating with a haunting sadness. It pained Prince Albert, but he wore a wicked smile, his heart hardened by the weight of his position. In his innermost depths, he reveled in the twisted power he held over the lives of those below.

However, not all within the ranks shared the same cruel disposition. General Sir Timothy, Prince Albert's second in command, was a man of compassion burdened with the duty to follow orders. Though his heart ached with every cry for mercy, he, too, was caught in the clutches of a system that demanded unwavering obedience.

As the destruction of the town unfolded, the sorrowful scene painted a grim tableau. Homes once filled with laughter and warmth now crumbled under the relentless assault of cannons and explosives. Innocent lives, young and old, were lost to the violence, their dreams extinguished in a blink.

The bodies of dead civilians covered the streets where once the children use to play. The sewer turned red with the blood as the Soldier pushed deeper and deeper into the valley entering the town center. All routes leading out were closed off and only death awaited the residents of Eyuplu.

As the soldiers made their way deeper into the heart of the city, a worn-out mech, bearing the faded symbol of Britannia, emerged from the dilapidated garage. Surrounding it were rebels proudly displaying red bands, symbolizing their affiliation with the Janissary Group. This formidable mech was none other than the creation of Musa Avsever, a once-captain in the Britannic military who had turned rogue, dedicating himself to the cause of fighting against the Britannic Empire.

Prince Albert's smile widened as he beheld the sight of another mech, a worthy adversary for his Excalibur. Without hesitation, he maneuvered his mech forward, a storm of determination in his eyes. The clash of metal giants was imminent, and the atmosphere crackled with tense anticipation.

As the two colossal mechs closed in on each other, their foot soldiers engaged in a fierce exchange of fire. The rebels, driven by their shared desire for liberation, fought with fervor and resourcefulness. Against the backdrop of the war-torn village, the symphony of gunshots and explosions reverberated, intertwining with the anguished cries of the wounded and the distant echoes of crumbling structures.

The battle between the mechs was a dance of raw power and calculated precision. Each move was met with a thunderous clash of metal as their mighty fists collided, sending shockwaves through the surrounding debris. The ground shook beneath their colossal frames, and the air crackled with electrical discharges and the acrid scent of burning machinery.

Amidst the chaos, foot soldiers on both sides fought valiantly, seeking cover among the remnants of shattered buildings, utilizing whatever vantage points they could find. The air was thick with the stinging smoke of gunfire as bullets whizzed through the air, finding their marks with devastating consequences.

The once-vibrant village now lay in ruins, its homes reduced to rubble and its streets scarred by the ravages of war. The remnants of shattered lives could be seen in every broken window, every crumbling wall. The destruction weighed heavily on the conscience of those witnessing the devastation, a painful reminder of the human cost of conflict.

With a surge of hope in his heart, Musa Avsevar's mech gained the upper hand during the heated battle. He deftly maneuvered his machine, utilizing its agility and resilience to outmaneuver Prince Albert's Excalibur. The rebels, witnessing their leader's valor, rallied behind him, their spirits ignited by his unwavering determination.

But alas, the tides turned against Musa. Prince Albert, utilizing the advanced technology embedded within his Excalibur, deployed a devastating countermeasure. The balance shifted, and Musa's mech, weary from the relentless onslaught, succumbed to the overwhelming firepower of his adversary.

As the smoke cleared, the remaining rebels lay scattered, their bodies motionless amidst the wreckage. Musa, wounded and weakened, was captured by Prince Albert's forces, the weight of defeat heavy upon his shoulders. The once-thriving resistance now stood on the precipice of oblivion.

Prince Albert, reveling in his victory, issued a chilling order. He commanded his forces to raze the village, erasing any remnants of hope and resistance. The villagers' dreams, already shattered by the brutality of war, were to be further crushed under the might of the Britannic Empire.

But in that dark moment, Musa, battered but unbroken, summoned the last reserves of his spirit. With a voice filled with defiance, he confronted Prince Albert, proclaiming that his adversary would ultimately meet his demise on the battlefield, consumed by the very life he had destroyed.

In this descent from hope to despair, the once-promising glimmers of resistance now faded into the somber reality of loss. The clash between the mechs was a testament to the overwhelming power and destructive potential of their weaponry. The echoes of cannon fire and the crackling of energy weapons reverberated through the desolate landscape, a haunting reminder of the devastating consequences of war.

Amidst the chaos, Musa's bravery and determination shone through, even in the face of overwhelming odds. His unwavering spirit became a beacon of hope, even as darkness loomed overhead. The tragedy of his capture and the loss of his comrades painted a bleak portrait of the cost of resistance, leaving a bitter taste in the hearts of those who dared to challenge the Britannic Empire. 

Musa, No more than a deserter in the eyes of Britannia, was handcuffed and taken by the Britannic Soldiers. He walked the walk of shame as he is taken through the streets of Eyuplu, a once thriving town, now destroyed due to his rebellion. The guilt of this destruction weighed heavily on his shoulder but he refuse to bow down or push around rather he walked boldly through the empty streets seeing all destruction, and memorizing every single scene in his mind. What has befallen his people today will be the fate of the Britannic people tomorrow. His rebellion was crushed, and His soldiers were scattered or killed but he remained determined for his vengeance.

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Prince Albert returned to his post after completely dismantling what remained of enemy Mech. With a smile on his face, he adds another victory to his ever-increasing accomplishment. The capture of Musa Avsaver meant an end to the Janissary whose presence have bothered his Province for years. Prince Albert opened his mech shaft and for the first time, he smelled the acrid Smell of burning which have engulfed the air. The Town of Eyuplu no more vanished forever from the maps of Britannia along with its residents. A wicked smile formed on his face. He couldn't help but enjoy the power that came with his royal Birth. After all, he was the son of Emperor Edward the 5th. 

"Timothy informed the General Command, Ask them to prepare their finest wine and food. We are celebrating today."

Timothy with a single salute walked away to follow his commander's order. Timothy knew what they were doing was wrong. They were the villains but there was nothing he could do about it. He was merely a follower. A step in this stair of leadership. He had no power but to follow command. He threw a glance at the destroyed village and said a short prayer for the departed soul before entering the tent.

Musa Avsevar, unbroken, passed Prince Albert who was waiting for him. 

"I may forgive you, dear rebel. If you are willing to fall to the ground and beg for forgiveness, I may forgive you." In a passionate tone, Albert offered Musa but he was completely ignored by the distinguished rebel.

Like a spoiled child, Albert couldn't bear being ignored by a nobody. So, in that instant, he drew out his gun and directed it toward the Musa.

"Beg or you will die here with the rest of your rebels."

Hearing it, a smile formed on Musa, he turned around freeing himself from the Grasp of the two soldiers who were escorting him till now and walked towards Albert with a smile. The barrel of the weapon found its way to Musa's head, a daring display of courage in the face of certain captivity.

"Shoot," Musa's voice carried a steely resolve. "I would rather die alongside my comrades than live as your captive."

The weight of Musa's words hung heavily in the air, piercing through the layers of Albert's convictions. In that brief, charged moment, the roles had shifted. Musa's unwavering defiance rattled Albert's resolve, reminding him of the price of his actions and the indomitable spirit of those he sought to oppress.

In a moment of introspection, Albert lowered his gun, his hands trembling with a mix of anger, fear, and a hint of realization. Musa's bold display of sacrifice had left an indelible mark upon his conscience, planting seeds of doubt and awakening a glimmer of empathy within him.

With a calm yet resolute expression, Musa turned and walked back towards the prison van awaiting him. His eyes locked with Albert's, filled with a deep certainty that the rebellion would not end with his capture.

"Mark my word, Albert, Your death will come by the hand of my people"

His words echoed through the air, a haunting prophecy that resonated with the weight of truth.

As he settled into the confines of the prison van, Musa's voice carried an unwavering determination, a reminder that the struggle for freedom and justice would persist. The van's doors closed, sealing him off from the outside world, but his spirit remained unbroken.

As the prison van faded into the distance, Albert found himself standing alone before his formidable mech, Excalibur. The weight of his recent encounter with Musa and the haunting words of rebellion echoed in his mind, stirring a whirlwind of conflicted emotions.

Suddenly, a vision unfolded before Albert's eyes, blurring the lines between reality and the depths of his consciousness. A mysterious figure, their features obscured, stepped forward, seemingly beckoning him to mount the imposing machine. Uncertainty clouded Albert's thoughts, unsure of the consequences that lay ahead.

With a mixture of trepidation and curiosity, Albert cautiously approached the open cockpit of Excalibur. His heart raced, a combination of fear and anticipation pounding in his chest. As he reached out to grasp the control panel, a sense of unease washed over him, as if an invisible force warned of the impending danger.

In his vision, the limbs of the mech came to life, their metallic joints creaking with an eerie intensity. Albert's body was enveloped by the colossal frame, an ironclad prison of his own making. The once powerful symbol of his authority had become a merciless captor, its immense weight bearing down upon him, threatening to crush his spirit beneath its unyielding force.

As the vision unfolded, Albert's breath caught in his throat, a cold sweat trickling down his brow. The imagery mirrored his inner turmoil, a manifestation of the consequences of his actions and the weight of his choices. It was a stark reminder that the power he wielded, the empire he had sworn to protect, had become a destructive force that threatened to consume him whole.

Shaken by the vision, Albert stumbled back, gasping for air as he broke free from its grip. The reality of his situation loomed large, as did the realization that the path he had chosen held dire consequences. The rebellion, fueled by Musa's determination and the spirit of the oppressed, had left an indelible mark upon his consciousness, one that he could no longer ignore.

The vision was a gift that came with his royal birth, an ability to look into the future. It was an ability among many that the people born into the royal family were given at birth.

Shocked and shaken to his core by the vision, Albert's determination resurfaced, fueled by a newfound resolve to prevent the grim fate that had been shown to him. No matter the cost, he vowed to rid himself of this mysterious figure and secure his dominion over Province 21.

With an ironclad determination etched across his face, Albert steeled himself for the challenges that lay ahead. The weight of his responsibility as the ruler of Province 21, mixed with the echoes of the rebellion and the vision's ominous warning, fueled a fire within him.

In the midst of the chaos and destruction, a young boy managed to escape the clutches of fate by seeking refuge beneath the wreckage of his former home. With fear and determination guiding his every step, he cautiously navigated through the debris, witnessing the aftermath of the ruthless clean-up squad.

Using his agility and small size, the boy slowly escaped through the destroyed village avoiding the remaining Britannic Soldier who now walked the streets. He made his way toward a treacherous mountain route. It was a long and difficult journey filled with all kinds of hardship but he was able to bypass the military checkpost and arrived safely on a nearby highway. With no food and water and enough money to just buy a single ticket. He decided to ride the bus towards the east with the renewed determination of vengeance and rebellion burning deep in his heart. He looked one last time toward the route which used to take him to his village which was no more. The boy decided to leave his old life behind and move towards a new life filled with hardship and difficulties ready to do whatever it take to have his revenge on Britannia.

And with that, the chapter on one rebellion closed, and the chapter on another began.