"Every dream, every ideal, rises upon heart-wrenching sacrifices. To reach them, one must fight ruthless battles... sometimes even unleash wars. But at what cost? An excessive cost... unbearable."

  The battle was surely harsh. The battlefield is still fresh; the bodies of farmers and civilians are still warm, lying here on the ground, lifeless, forever... forgotten. A sharp smell of smoke and burnt flesh fills the air, invading the nostrils and leaving a metallic taste on the tongue. The once-imposing buildings, made of wood, harmoniously integrated into nature, are nothing more than smoking ruins. These dwellings, once in symbiosis with the surrounding forests, used construction techniques respectful of the environment. The grayish expanse reveals a devastated plain, where charred trees stand like specters of the nature that once thrived. The ground, still hot underfoot, burned by the recent flames, radiates an oppressive heat.

  "So many lives cut down. So many families broken. So many dreams gutted, reduced to scattered ashes in the wind of the past. This path, paved with tears and blood, promises neither respite nor happiness. It is only pain, chaos, and loss. Yet we must not turn away. For if there is no return, there must also be no renunciation."

  Once majestic, the immense palace dominating the plain is today nothing but ruin. Unlike the other buildings, this palace was a jewel of high technology, with walls made of materials of immeasurable rarity, reflective surfaces, and advanced energy systems. Its collapsed towers and its walls once covered with holographic frescoes are now only vestiges of a glorious past. This palace, built with precious materials from the four corners of the galaxy, was the symbol of prosperity and power. At the foot of the ruins, a broken statue, yet surviving this destruction, bears witness to a past that is no more, the last representation of this extraterrestrial species that will no longer find an echo within the galaxy... within the Orion Arm.

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  "Every sacrifice, every cry torn from the night, every last breath stifled in the dust must not be in vain. We move forward for freedom, for a world we have only brushed against, for a future that others before us never had the chance to see. This battlefield, littered with bodies and ash, is the silent witness of our struggle, of our unshakable thirst for freedom."

  Surrounding the palace, vast fields of crops, devastated by the still-crackling fire, lie as collateral victims of war. The once-abundant harvests, signs of a prosperous world, are today nothing but ashes. These fields, irrigated by advanced systems of freshwater canals, produced harvests that fed thousands. The smell of burnt earth and flying ash fills the air, while the distant echoes of deafening explosions still resound, like painful memories. At the mercy of the burning wind, the last ears of grain turn to dust and drift toward eternity.

  "All this suffering... our sorrows, our mourning, our regrets... we must carry them as a torch. Never forget. Never forget where we come from, what we have lost, what we had to abandon along the way. For war, oppression, injustice do not erase themselves. We must tear out that light, still hidden, fragile and distant, from the heart of darkness."

  At that instant, in the midst of this tragic scene, only desolation remains. This is the price of war: the destruction of everything. But in the distance... a faint glow, tenuous yet persistent, lies upon the horizon... The symbol of hope, for nothing is ever truly lost. This glow, emanating from an unknown source that survived the destruction, reminds us that resilience and hope can endure even in the darkest of times.

  "Never forget... Every victory was paid at the price of blood, at the ultimate sacrifice of those who gave everything. Peace, joy, renewal... all of this is a debt we carry, a weight that bends us, an inheritance carved into our flesh.

  This is my story. My burden. My fight to tear the light out of the shadow. Let me tell it to you..."