In the heart of the battlefield on the Galentru Plains,
where dust and smoke intertwine,

you fight on instinct—thrusting, dodging, striking at whatever armor flashes before your eyes.

An enemy you took for a dwarf collapses before you,
and as his blood-soaked helmet rolls away, a face is revealed.

Too small.
Too young.

The eyes still cling to life, trembling with fear and will.
They stare straight at the tip of your blade.
Then, a rumor you once heard drifts through your mind—
that orphans were conscripted, given worn-out armor,
and sent to the front lines as fodder for the blades.
Time seems to slow.

The stench of blood, the clash of steel, the distant shouts fade away.
All that remains is your breath, and the pounding of your heart.

With this single choice, you will decide the fate of a life
#The_Shadow_of_Belmorn