A battlefield stained with blood, with allies and enemies slaughtered alike.
A lone figure walked through it, dragging his limping leg as he didn't even have enough energy to make any sudden moves, having expended all his Origin Essence while his stamina was at rock bottom.
"Help! HELP! HELPPP!" A middle-aged man screamed nearby, having lost all his limbs, bleeding out profusely as he stared with the last vestiges of his strength, hoping to survive as light leaked out of his eyes.
But the lone figure didn't seem to have heard that, continuing to limp bit by bit, eventually reaching the rear end of the battlefield, hoping to take a rest when suddenly, a majestic bird appeared in the skies, unleashing a corrosive mist that resembled water vapour at first glance.
But when it touched their base of operations, everything was melted as the people within screamed for help, dying in droves, including some powerhouses. And, a wisp of this mist swerved towards the lone youth, enveloping his lower body.
"Gahh!" The youth screamed all of a sudden, getting up from his bed in a hurry as he was drenched with sweat, having been through a nightmare. "Uwahhhhh!"
He hollered in fright for a couple of minutes before gradually calming down, noticing that he was in a dark room, in safety, and not on the battlefield, "Haah…ha!"
He had been suffering from frequent nightmares. After all, they were all based on his past, one that had been etched deep into his nerves, forming a deep impression of trauma.
Whenever he closed his eyes, he would feel like he had returned to the battlefield where death and destruction were ever-present, and he…just a helpless cultivator that wished to survive.
"Please…I don't want to be involved in fights any longer." The youth clutched his head, plucking his hair out, screaming, almost losing his mind.
A healer had healed him back to full health. And as a Ninth Layered Martial Origin Stage cultivator, he had significant responsibilities, preventing him from focusing on treating himself, suffering nonstop.
But, as he no longer wanted to do anything with fighting, he had retired, now working on treating people similar to him that had suffered from war. But, even he had yet to make a recovery, not to mention the others.
After all, their Realm shared an intrinsic connection with another Realm, both of which had a history of significant hate, enough to spark a war at least once every decade. And some of those wars were brutal, leading to the deaths of millions of people.
And the most recent war was one of the most brutal in their history, resulting in the death of around eight million people, with more than a hundred thousand cultivators among the tally.
He was one of the survivors, still reeling from the after-effects, even though four years had passed since then.
Now that he had woken up, the youth was unable to fall asleep, sighing as he wore his robes and exited his house, staring at a group of cultivators huddled around a fire, staring at it in a daze.
They were all war veterans that were suffering from trauma, unable to return to their regular lives. Even if they somehow managed to do their tasks, they were only pressing forth through sheer willpower.
And by now, they had huddled as a group to find solace in the company of others, unable to be peaceful while alone.
"Tonas, can't fall asleep either?" One of them raised his hand, shouting at the youth.
"I remembered the scene when the Destruction King attacked our base." The youth, addressed as Tonas, sighed, "As if I could fall asleep after that."
"That…" The man that had asked him sighed in response. His hands trembled in both fear and hatred at the Destruction King that had slaughtered a lot of their comrades.
On the other side, the Destruction King was hailed as a legendary hero that won the war for them.
But on this side, the Destruction King was a mass murderer. The group turned silent for a minute before gradually resuming with faint murmurs.
Tonas too joined them, finding solace at the company, trembling from time to time as for the faintest of sounds, his body reacted in reflex as if an enemy were about to attack them.
He wasn't alone in this as the rest too reacted more or less the same. Some even huddled on the ground, covering their heads as they trembled in fear, "No more!"
All of them had at least lost a few comrades to the Destruction King.
But, what about the perpetrator of the violence? Of the man hailed as a hero in his home Realm?
"Keuk! Forna! Stop! What…are you doing?" A lady screamed, trying her best to wring herself out of the vice-like grip on her neck, trembling in fear as she was subjected to the brunt of the other party's killing intent.
She wasn't able to break free as she shouted, "Return to your senses!"
"Are you a spy?" A cold voice resounded, "Is that why you approached me as a kid and gained a place in my heart? Is it to spark another war with the damn monsters that slaughtered my Clan?"
"I'm not!" The lady screeched, saying in concern as she stared at the middle-aged man, watching tears stream out of his eyes.
She sighed, stopping her struggles, "I won't give any excuses. If you feel that I've done something against you, then feel free to kill me."
"Why?" Forna, the middle-aged man once hailed as the Destruction King struggled to speak, feeling weak as he said, "Why are you giving up? Why? At least tell me something!"
"It's no use!" The lady sighed, "You've killed so many people that your bloodlust has seeped into the depths of your soul. You're unable to cull it. This is why you've killed our allies even though they've done nothing to warrant that."
"That is also why our children left us to go on their own." She continued, "And this is also why I'll be killed now."
"No one's able to control you, Forna, including yourself."
