February 25, 2021/4018, Fourth Era.

  Chacookta Region.

  Chacookta, an incredibly remote place with its small fields. Here lies a small village primarily engaged in agriculture and mining for the local authorities; mining is relatively developed due to a large mineral deposit that somewhat improves the local economy compared to other areas outside of original Papaldia.

  Perasik—a miner and a resident of this place. In fact, he did not originate from this village but from the capital of the former Parafa, which had once been peaceful until Papaldia invaded and turned it into a colony.

  He once had a family; a normal family with the ordinary things that should have happened. But then, he was dragged away for forced labor while the other members vanished without a trace, perhaps having died somewhere on this foreign land. Now it was well past noon, and the break time was interrupted. An announcement from the authorities had been posted on the village notice board, stating:

  "All citizens of the Empire shall always contribute to its prosperity. But the barbaric ones dare to attack us, and now we—the Royal Family—call upon men and women to fight to protect the homeland."

  What nonsense! These people even think that anyone on this makeshift territory would be willing to help them? He didn't care, as he had passed the prime of his life, and his health certainly wouldn't meet the military's demands. Besides, Perasik had no intention of volunteering for anything; it was better here.

  Now he was inside a hut, resting with other workers. They were all half-breeds, and they were as tired as he was—disgusted with life under Papaldia's rule.

  He poured himself a cup of water and drank it in one long gulp.

  "Work has been scarce these days," Perasik complained, as this was also his means of livelihood, and the irregular work made it difficult for him to meet Papaldia's taxes.

  "Make the most of these days to rest," Hanzel—a half-breed with pointed ears, a friend who worked alongside him—said. "You won't always have time to clear your mind like this."

  He said, looking at Perasik in the dirty shirt he wore after coming out of the mine. Hanzel didn't stay silent for long and continued, "Look over there; don't you find the soldiers' behavior a bit strange? Look."

  Hanzel pointed towards a group of guards who were talking to each other; the most notable thing was their tense demeanor—as if they were hiding something. It was amusing to watch, but perhaps it was just the disdain of being around them, nothing special.

  "Forget it. We don't need to care," Perasik said wearily, standing up to look at Hanzel. "Let's head back early; how long are we going to wait here for work?"

  Hanzel rubbed his head a bit and then stood up to leave with Perasik.

  On their way, the two chatted a little. The topic was about recent events.

  "Any news lately?" Hanzel asked.

  "Not sure, but there are rumors about some country at war with the Empire," Perasik scoffed. "How stupid must those people be to dare challenge Papaldia?"

  "Haha..." Hanzel laughed loudly, fully understanding what Perasik meant. "Challenging Papaldia is just plain foolish. However, I have a feeling this time will be different."

  "Different how?" Perasik wondered, his face scrunching up as he looked at Hanzel.

  The Empire had invaded many countries for a long time and had reached its peak. So how could anything different happen? If there were, it would only be the civilized nations that had declared war on Papaldia.

  "Do I need to analyze it from the beginning?"

  "Forget it," Hanzel shook his head, refusing to let Perasik explain again since he wouldn't understand anything anyway. In the village, apart from Perasik, only a few others were literate; the rest of the village couldn't read. But only Perasik had the ability to teach those in need, as the others had all fled.

  So now the village had only Perasik capable of that. Fortunately, he volunteered to teach in the evenings, allowing the village children a chance to learn to read and escape this life. It could be said that Perasik had made a significant contribution to the village by bringing knowledge to it, albeit not much, but teaching with the knowledge he had.

  Perasik and Hanzel walked towards the end of the village, where they usually rested after finishing work. In the distant fields, a few figures were diligently working, a familiar sight but not peaceful at all. Perasik glanced around, still preoccupied with the rumors of war.

  "Hanzel, if there really is a war, what do you think will happen here?" Perasik suddenly spoke up, breaking the silence between the two.

  "We'll be left behind, or worse, dragged into the conflict," Hanzel replied immediately, without hesitation. "These rulers won't hesitate to use any means necessary to protect their 'empire.'"

  Perasik nodded, his heart heavy. He had witnessed too many scenes of people being pushed to their deaths in the name of "serving the country."

  Suddenly, the sound of hooves and wheels rolling on the dirt road echoed from the village gate. A horse-drawn cart carrying Papaldia soldiers entered, loaded with heavy wooden crates. The soldiers jumped down and immediately summoned the villagers.

  "What now?" Hanzel frowned, his eyes alert.

  The two approached the village center, where the soldiers were reading orders. The shrill voice of the commander rang out, full of authority:

  "By royal decree, all males aged sixteen to fifty in this village must report to the nearest barracks for military service. Those who do not comply will be considered traitors!"

  Whispers erupted everywhere, fear evident on everyone's faces. Perasik looked around, meeting the helpless gazes of others. He clenched his fists, a surge of anger rising within him, but he felt powerless to act.

  "Perasik, what should we do?" Hanzel asked quietly, his voice trembling.

  Perasik pondered for a moment, then replied softly, "Wait. Don't do anything foolish."

  But deep down, he knew this situation couldn't last. If war truly broke out, they would have nowhere to run. He resolved to find a way, no matter how difficult, to protect the village and its innocent people from the approaching storm.

  That night, the atmosphere in the village grew heavier. The men forced to report whispered among themselves, trying to find ways to escape the summons. Some families quietly packed their belongings to flee from Papaldia's pursuit.

  Perasik sat by a small fire with Hanzel and a few other friends. They were discussing plans for the coming days, but no one had a clear idea. Everything was just desperate speculation.

  Suddenly, a commotion erupted from the edge of the village. Perasik looked up towards the gate, where flickering torchlight was swaying violently. The soldiers' shouts were quickly drowned out by a series of strange sounds—short, sharp explosions.

  "No, don't...!!" A farmer rushed into someone, causing chaos in the village.

  Perasik jumped to his feet, his heart racing. "What's happening?!" he shouted, but no one answered.

  He dashed out of the house, witnessing a Papaldia soldier trampling a man, who was tightly holding a child. Surrounding them were other soldiers laughing at the man.

  "Mick, oh no!" Perasik gasped. Mick, a fellow miner who had been injured and lost his ability to work due to a wounded arm, usually helped out in the fields.

  He wasn't smart, but he was a good person and often received help from the villagers. And now, in front of him, was his act of trying to protect a child. The Papaldia soldier continued to kick Mick, showing no concern for those around.

  "You want to protect that thief?" he growled, kicking harder but showing no signs of stopping.

  The others in the village wanted to intervene, but the Papaldia soldiers were armed and ready to shoot if anyone dared to interfere. Their glares were extremely hostile, as if they wanted to execute the entire village right then and there.

  Just as Perasik was about to do something reckless, a loud footstep caught his attention, enough to draw the eyes of him and many others.

  From the shadows, a figure emerged. A large man, unlike anyone they had ever seen. His body was completely covered in dark gray armor, sturdy like the scales of an ancient dragon. His face was hidden behind a strange metal helmet, with a metal plate in front that emitted two cold beams of light, like two ghostly flames in the night. He held a strange, long black weapon in his hand, looking as if it could roar at any moment to take lives.

  His heavy footsteps echoed, the sound of metal clashing with the ground, each step piercing the fear of those witnessing. He stopped, motionless, like a mindless war machine. No one dared to approach, no one dared to breathe. He merely existed, but that was enough to make everyone tremble, as if standing before a power far beyond their understanding.

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  The Papaldia soldiers noticed the anomaly and acted immediately, observing and discovering the figure standing there. They arrogantly addressed the stranger.

  "Hey, you," one soldier pointed at the figure, shouting. "Who the hell are you?!"

  When everyone thought the mysterious large man would remain silent, he spoke in a deep, slow voice. "None of your business."

  This time, the figure began to scan the entire village. His voice continued to resonate with a threatening tone, yet in a strangely naive manner.

  "If only I had a camera here, it would be so good," the figure said. "It's just that interesting."

  He rubbed his helmet, seemingly indifferent to the feelings of those around him. The Papaldia soldiers, irritated by being ignored, one of them stood up and pointed directly at the mysterious figure, raising his voice.

  "I advise you to answer our questions before taking any action!"

  "Whatever, it's still early," the figure replied while rolling up his sleeve, then continued to look at them. "Go ahead and ask."

  "Who are you?"

  "Who am I?" the figure sneered, completely disregarding the soldiers in front of him. "To introduce myself, I am Viktor Makarov—Russian, and your superior will be smashed right here!"

  Makarov's steely tone left everyone else confused. Only the Papaldia soldiers understood what was happening. They were taken aback, quickly aiming their weapons to eliminate the threat. Gunfire erupted in the dark night, smoke billowing from the muzzles, temporarily obscuring the scene ahead.

  But the outcome did not unfold as they had anticipated. The voice of the man rang out again, surprising everyone.

  "Oh dear, those bullets actually hurt a bit," Makarov said, shaking slightly as he stepped forward, the bullets falling harmlessly from his armor. He glared at the Papaldia soldiers with contempt. "Now, I'll let you experience the feeling I just had."

  With that, Makarov lunged forward, grabbing one soldier and lifting him up, the others frozen in fear at the sight, while the soldier struggled to breathe as Makarov tightened his grip. Makarov looked down at the soldier with disdain before turning his gaze back to the village.

  "Who wants this one dead?" he asked, pointing at Mick, still lying on the ground. "Oh, and someone call a doctor to check if this guy is injured."

  Perasik rushed out from the crowd, running to Mick to help him up. Hanzel followed closely, eyeing Makarov with high alertness. Makarov, however, paid no mind, placing his hand on the radio on his shoulder and began speaking in words they couldn't understand.

  "Are we close?... It's safe here."

  The man's voice continued to echo despite the chaos around them. The remaining Papaldia soldiers were furious, one of them drawing his sword and charging at Makarov. He didn't hesitate either, throwing the soldier he was choking at the attacker. The force of the throw caught the soldier off guard, and both fell to the ground in a heap.

  Next, Makarov drew his pistol and shot two rounds at the two soldiers. As the bodies of the two comrades fell, the remaining three soldiers were terrified by the weapon they hadn't expected Makarov to possess. One of them stammered out a question:

  "W-Who are you?"

  "Didn't I just say? But let me add, we will bring destruction to Papaldia, and you lot better find a way to escape, because when the time comes, no one will be able to save you."

  Makarov's maniacal laughter sent chills down the spines of the villagers. As his laughter faded, what happened next took the lives of the remaining Papaldia soldiers. The villagers watched in horror as the man appeared like a monster, no one daring to obstruct him as he approached Mick.

  "You must be in pain, don't worry, I can help."

  Makarov knelt down, pulling out a bandage from his backpack. Perasik, holding Mick, felt strange because it looked more like a rolled-up piece of cloth. He cast a suspicious glance at Makarov, unable to trust this man, and he had no reason to help them either. As if reading Perasik's mind, Makarov removed his Lynx-T helmet, revealing a face that clearly belonged to neither Papaldia nor any of the civilizations in the Third Civilized Zone.

  He gently bandaged Mick's arm and helped him sit up. The villagers, still wary and frightened, couldn't take their eyes off this strange man. Whispers filled the air, but no one dared to approach or ask questions. Perasik observed Makarov's every move, trying to find some sign to understand this man better.

  "Do you have a doctor in the village?" Makarov suddenly broke the heavy silence.

  Perasik nodded, not daring to look him in the eye. "Yes... but he's at the edge of the village. I will go get him."

  "No need," Makarov raised his hand to stop him. "Just take this guy there. He needs rest and proper treatment. I'll go with you to ensure no Papaldia soldier dares to return."

  Perasik hesitated, but under Makarov's determined gaze, he had no choice but to agree. Hanzel and a few other young men from the village quickly stepped forward to assist Mick, while Makarov slowly followed behind, his eyes constantly scanning the surroundings as if searching for something.

  When they reached the doctor's house, an elderly, frail man with white hair was immediately shocked to see Mick and the bruises covering his body. "Oh my God, what happened?!" he exclaimed.

  "It's a long story; just treat him first," Makarov replied coldly. He turned to Perasik, lowering his voice. "Listen, I won't be staying in your village long. But I need information. Does anyone in the village know about the Papaldia military situation? Especially the nearby outposts."

  Perasik looked at him, his eyes still filled with suspicion. "What do you plan to do?"

  "Don't ask too many questions," Makarov replied, his tone more serious. "If you don't want this village to be wiped off the map, it's best to answer me."

  Perasik bit his lip, thinking for a moment before finally speaking. "There are a few people who know. But they're scared. If you want to meet them, you have to tell us who you are and why you're helping us."

  Makarov sighed, his eyes showing signs of fatigue. "I'm a Russian soldier, here not to harm you. Your enemy is also our enemy. Is that enough?"

  "Russian soldier?" Hanzel expressed doubt at the name. In reality, no one knew what that meant. Makarov continued to explain. "Yes, from the Russian Federation... We are at war with Papaldia."

  "Oh..." Hanzel exclaimed, as if he had realized something. "You're from the country challenging Papaldia? What's the situation like?" he asked eagerly.

  "How is it?" Makarov scoffed. "Turning Papaldia's army into fresh minced meat."

  "But," he continued, "we have no intention of occupying or colonizing anyone. We just want to liberate the residents here. So, is that enough?"

  Perasik bit his lip, thought for a moment, and then nodded. "I'll take you to meet the village chief. He will know what to do."

  Makarov remained silent, simply nodding in agreement. Perasik led him out of the house, heading towards the largest house in the center of the village. Along the way, curious, fearful, and hopeful gazes followed them from the small homes.

  When they arrived at the door, Perasik paused, turning to Makarov. "The village chief is the one who decides everything here. If he trusts you, the whole village will trust you."

  Makarov simply nodded. Perasik pushed open the heavy wooden door, leading him inside. The chief, a man with a silver beard, a sturdy figure but with tired eyes, looked up at them. Upon seeing Makarov, he frowned but said nothing.

  Perasik stepped forward, briefly explaining what had happened and why they were there. The chief listened in silence, his eyes never leaving Makarov. Finally, he sighed and set down his teacup.

  "Russian soldier," he spoke, his voice deep but authoritative. "I don't know why you have appeared here. But if you truly want to help, I will tell you what I know. However, you must promise not to bring disaster upon us."

  Makarov smiled faintly. "I don't need to promise, as that's not my style. But you have my word; I will protect this village, at least until the danger passes."

  The chief stared at him for a long moment before nodding. "Very well. But remember, we only have faith in what you do, not in what you say."

  As the chief began to speak, he gestured for Perasik to sit beside him and detailed the situation around them.

  "The Papaldia military is stationed to the east, about a day's journey by land. They have established a checkpoint near the forest, where they concentrate their troops and munitions. Occasionally, they send patrols through neighboring villages to gather resources or... interrogate the villagers." His voice trailed off, his eyes reflecting the pain of the last word.

  "More specifics about their numbers and equipment?" Makarov asked, his gaze sharp, causing the chief to pause for a moment.

  "We're not sure exactly, but according to those who have been captured and managed to escape, there are at least 200 soldiers in the area. Their equipment mainly consists of magical artillery and light magical armor, but they have flying beasts for aerial patrol."

  Makarov nodded, mentally assessing the situation. "And the approach? Is there a way to get close without being detected?"

  The chief pondered. "The dense forest to the south has a small trail. It's not frequently used due to the treacherous terrain and dangers from wild beasts. But if you want to approach without being noticed, that's the best way."

  Makarov stood up, turning as if he had made up his mind about everything. "Alright. I'll take care of the rest. You all stay here, don't do anything foolish."

  The chief looked at him intently, then sighed. "I don't know if you will succeed, but if you truly protect this village, I will remember this favor."

  Makarov didn't respond. He simply turned to Perasik, signaling for him to lead the way out of the house. Perasik followed, his eyes still a mix of suspicion and respect.

  Once outside, Perasik finally couldn't hold back any longer and asked, "What are you really planning to do? You can't take on that outpost alone."

  Makarov chuckled softly, his eyes gleaming with confidence mixed with a hint of coldness. "I don't need the whole village to believe in me. But those like them... they don't deserve to exist." He lightly patted the rifle slung over his shoulder, stepping into the darkness. Before fully disappearing into it, Makarov's voice echoed one last time, affirming a truth.

  "Russians are born to lead, not to bow down."

  Perasik stood watching as Makarov's figure faded away, a strange feeling swelling within him: fear, but also hope.

  Perasik returned to the village, his mind still unable to shake off Makarov's sharp words. That man not only brought hope but also a burning desire: "Russians are born to lead, not to bow down." Those simple words made Perasik realize that there was no mercy for the weak. In Makarov's eyes, there were only two choices: fight or be crushed.

  Makarov moved swiftly through the forest like a predator, silent yet full of lethal intent. For him, infiltrating enemy territory was not just a mission but a duty to his homeland. "Papaldia is a parasite, feeding off the weakness of other nations. They will not last long against the will of Russia," he reminded himself, his sharp gaze scanning every tree and branch.

  As he neared the outpost, Makarov paused, his body perfectly concealed in the thick underbrush. The light from torches flickered in the darkness, illuminating various areas of the outpost. Through his binoculars, he counted the guards, the artillery, and especially the flying beasts—symbols of Papaldia's might. A smirk crept onto his face: "Do they really think a few winged beasts can stop us?"

  Double-checking his gear, Makarov tightened his grip on the Dragunov. He was not just a soldier; he was a symbol of vengeance for his people. "This is not just about victory; we will teach them that anyone who stands against Russia must kneel," he whispered, a declaration to himself.

  Inside the Papaldia outpost, the atmosphere was calm, almost carefree. The commander, clad in shining magical armor, leaned over a map, a smirk plastered on his face. "Those villagers are nothing but pests. A little pressure, and they'll break," he boasted, laughter echoing among the soldiers.

  They had no idea that, just a few hundred meters away, a hunter was closing in.

  Makarov approached the beast pens. Every movement was precise, as if choreographed. He pulled out a vial of a special concoction from his backpack, spreading it around the area of the pens. "They will learn that nothing can protect them from the wrath of Russia," he murmured, igniting a small flame and tossing it into the mixture.

  The fire erupted like a beast, quickly engulfing the pens. The creatures roared in panic, thrashing about in terror, drawing the attention of the entire outpost. But that was just the beginning.

  Makarov swiftly moved, his Dragunov aimed at every soldier that revealed themselves. Each shot was a statement of dominance. "This is how Russia takes revenge; for the fallen soldiers in Tajikistan," he muttered after each pull of the trigger.

  Grenades flew through the air, exploding amidst the Papaldia soldiers trying to organize a counterattack. The sounds of agony filled the night, mingling with the roars of the beasts and the crackling of flames.

  As dawn broke, Makarov stood atop a hill, surveying the smoldering ruins below. Every corpse, every charred remnant was a testament to his unyielding strength. "This is not just war," he whispered, his eyes ablaze with determination. "This is the rebirth of Russia—strong, unyielding."

  He turned away, disappearing into the shadows of the forest, leaving behind a nightmare that Papaldia would never forget.