The orders were clear.


    A rogue faction had risen in a lesser realm—beings who defied celestial law. Kazh and his squad were to secure the area, eliminate any remaining resistance, and restore order. It was deemed a low-risk mission, barely worthy of his commander’s attention.


    Kazh had received his orders without question, as he always had. Yet something about them unsettled him.


    “Rebels,” his commander had said. “They oppose the will of our realm. Do not mistake them for anything else.”


    And so they descended.


    The skies of the celestial realm were not skies at all.


    They were an expanse of shifting radiance, a never-ending flow of golden light that bent and curved to the will of the Great Order. Structures rose from the nothingness, floating spires of brilliant architecture, forged from condensed energy and held aloft by forces unseen. Below, the vast citadel stretched endlessly, its surface smooth and immaculate, untouched by time.


    This was the domain of the Ascended, those born of light and duty. Every being had their place. Some were sentinels, some record keepers, others lawmakers, but the warriors—those like Kazh—were the hand of the Great Will itself. They did not lead. They did not question. They enforced.


    Kazh had never thought to wonder if that was wrong.


    But something had changed.


    The battle had already passed.


    The village smoldered in ruin, its wooden homes reduced to blackened husks, its streets littered with the fallen. Celestial soldiers moved methodically through the wreckage, dragging out survivors, binding those too weak to resist.


    Kazh stepped over a broken cart, his boots kicking up ash. He had expected a battlefield. Instead, he found something else entirely.


    These were not warriors.


    A woman knelt in the dirt, clutching a child who would never wake. An elder slumped against a collapsed wall, his breath ragged, his eyes hollow. No armor, no weapons—just fear.


    Kazh swallowed hard. This wasn’t a battlefield. It was a slaughter.


    His hand curled into a fist.


    Nearby, a soldier lifted a wounded man by the collar, the enemy’s robes torn and stained with blood. The fallen man groaned, barely conscious.


    Kazh turned away—but then, the man coughed out something hoarse, barely above a whisper.


    “Why… are you doing this?”


    Kazh froze.


    The man’s gaze, though fading, locked onto his.


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    “We were no enemy…” he wheezed. “We only wished… to be free.”


    Kazh felt his chest tighten. He looked around, really looked.


    The village was no fortress. The people were no army.


    His grip tightened on the hilt of his weapon as he turned toward his commander, who stood overlooking the ruined settlement with indifference.


    Kazh approached, his voice steady but firm. “Commander.”


    The officer barely spared him a glance. “Report.”


    “This… was not a battle,” Kazh said, his voice low. “These people… they had no way to fight back.”


    The commander exhaled, bored. “And?”


    Kazh hesitated. “And you said they were a threat.”


    “They were.”


    “To who?”


    Now the commander looked at him. “To order. To the stability of our realm. And to everything we stand for.”


    Kazh’s jaw clenched. “I don’t understand.”


    His commander studied him for a moment, then sighed as if speaking to a stubborn child. “Tell me, soldier, do you believe peace is maintained through kindness?”


    Kazh didn’t answer.


    The commander gestured to the destruction around them. “They refused our authority. And if one realm is allowed to defy us, others will follow. This is necessary.”


    Kazh felt something in his chest twist. “Necessary,” he echoed. “We were told they were rebels, but they were only defending their home.”


    The commander’s gaze darkened. “Mind your place, soldier.”


    Kazh swallowed, forcing his voice to remain even. “This isn’t justice.”


    A long silence stretched between them.


    Then the commander stepped closer, lowering his voice. “Listen to me, Kazh. You are a soldier. Nothing more. You do not decide what justice is.”


    Kazh’s hands trembled at his sides.


    The commander exhaled through his nose, annoyed. “If you still have doubts, then let me offer you clarity.” He gestured to the fallen warrior on the ground—the man who had pleaded with Kazh only moments ago. “Finish him.”


    Kazh stiffened. “What?”


    “You heard me.”


    Kazh looked at the dying man. Blood pooled beneath him, his breath shallow. He was already fading. Killing him would be nothing more than an execution.


    Slowly, Kazh reached for his weapon. His fingers wrapped around the hilt.


    And then, he let go.


    “No.”


    The word left his lips before he could stop it.


    The other soldiers turned, murmuring among themselves. The commander’s expression darkened. “What did you say?”


    Kazh straightened. “No,” he repeated, louder this time. “This isn’t war. This is conquest.”


    His commander’s eyes flashed with something unreadable. “You would defy the will of your realm?”


    Kazh met his gaze, steady and unwavering. “If this is the will of my realm, then it is wrong.”


    The silence that followed was suffocating.


    Then the commander nodded once. “Very well.”


    Before Kazh could react, the order rang out.


    “Seize him.”


    Hands grabbed him from both sides. Kazh gritted his teeth and summoned his power, his fingertips glowing faintly as he tried to force the soldiers back. But the moment he exerted his will, the chains lashed around his wrists, crackling with celestial energy that burned against his skin. His strength faltered instantly. The soldiers tightened their hold, wrenching his arms behind his back and forcing him to his knees.


    He struggled, but the power that should have been his felt distant, unreachable beneath the weight of the bindings.


    His commander watched, unimpressed. “Pathetic.”


    Kazh gasped as the chains pulled tighter, searing into his skin. The commander knelt slightly, lowering his voice so only Kazh could hear.


    “You were never strong, Kazh,” he said with quiet disdain. “You were just a soldier. And a soldier with no power… is nothing.”


    The weight of the chains pressed down.


    And Kazh knew—his war had only just begun.