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Chapter 18 - edition 15 last part "the first war"

⚔️ EDITION 15 — THE FIRST WAR

Part 4: The Broken Battlefield

The battlefield had fallen silent.

The clash of steel...

The cries of warriors...

The explosions...

Everything had stopped.

Only the wind remained.

Smoke drifted across the ruined plains.

Broken swords rested in the earth.

Shattered armor reflected the dim light of the stormy sky.

The battlefield had become a graveyard of ideals.

The Writer slowly walked through the destruction.

Every step echoed.

He saw wounded Versions helping one another.

Some carried those who had fought against them only moments ago.

Some searched for friends beneath the rubble.

Some simply stared at the sky.

Wondering...

Why had it come to this?

Far away...

Nemesis still stood.

His black cloak had been ripped apart.

His body was covered with wounds.

Blood slowly fell onto the broken earth.

Yet...

He refused to kneel.

He refused to fall.

Across from him...

Barbaric Author leaned on what remained of his broken sword.

His breathing was heavy.

His strength nearly gone.

Futuristic Author sat among the remains of his destroyed machines.

One by one...

Their lights faded forever.

Redeemed Author silently healed the injured.

He didn't care which side they belonged to anymore.

Everyone had suffered.

The Dreamer slowly walked between both armies.

Every eye turned toward him.

Dreamer

"Look around you."

Silence.

Dreamer

"Tell me..."

"Who won?"

Nobody answered.

Because nobody could.

The wind carried ashes across the battlefield.

Dreamer

"We were created to protect the Author."

"But today..."

"We became the reason he suffered."

Barbaric Author lowered his head.

His hands trembled.

For the first time...

He questioned whether strength alone could solve anything.

The Writer slowly approached Nemesis.

His fountain pen...

The symbol of every story...

Had cracked during the battle.

Writer

"...I was wrong."

Nemesis looked at him.

His crimson eyes showed neither anger...

Nor satisfaction.

Only exhaustion.

Nemesis

"You weren't wrong."

The Writer looked surprised.

Nemesis

"You were afraid."

Silence.

Nemesis

"And fear..."

"Has always been stronger than understanding."

The Writer couldn't answer.

Because deep inside...

He knew Nemesis was right.

The Forgotten Version stepped forward.

He looked across the battlefield.

His expression became sorrowful.

Forgotten Version

"I've seen this before."

The Dreamer turned toward him.

Dreamer

"What do you mean?"

The Forgotten Version closed his eyes.

Forgotten Version

"I have watched countless memories."

"I have watched countless Versions."

"I have watched countless Creators."

He slowly looked toward the burning horizon.

Forgotten Version

"And every great war..."

"...always began the same way."

He pointed toward the battlefield.

Forgotten Version

"They stopped listening."

Silence.

Nemesis turned away.

He began walking toward the distant horizon.

No army followed him.

No sword was raised.

No one had the strength.

The Writer finally spoke.

Writer

"Nemesis."

Nemesis stopped.

Only for a moment.

Writer

"Will we meet again?"

A gentle wind passed between them.

Nemesis

"We never stopped meeting."

The Writer looked confused.

Nemesis slowly looked back.

Nemesis

"I'm part of this story."

"And until the Author understands me..."

"I'll always return."

Without another word...

Nemesis disappeared into the endless fog.

The battlefield became silent once more.

Barbaric Author planted the broken half of his sword into the ground.

Barbaric Author

"This war..."

"...changed us."

Redeemed Author nodded.

Redeemed Author

"Hopefully..."

"It teaches us."

The Dreamer knelt.

He picked up a handful of dirt.

It slipped through his fingers.

Mixed with ash.

Mixed with blood.

Mixed with broken dreams.

Dreamer

"So this..."

"...is the price of hatred."

The Writer slowly opened his notebook.

On a blank page...

He wrote:

"The First War ended without a victor. Every wound inflicted upon another Version became a wound upon the Author himself."

He gently closed the notebook.

The wind carried the ashes high into the sky.

The battlefield remained.

A scar that time would never erase.

The screen slowly faded to black.

END OF EDITION 15

📖 CONTINUATION

EDITION 16 — "SHADOWS OF THE PAST"

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