There once existed a world where the land was divided among four mighty kingdoms, each holding great power and influence. These realms: Rosery Heart, Diamante de Breu, Black Spades, and Luck Heart, stood as the pinnacle of civilization. But they were also the epicenters of a long and blood-soaked conflict that scarred the land for generations.
Diamante de Breu, glimmering with wealth and excess, was a kingdom of cunning minds and cold calculation. Their strategies were masterful, their armies draped in opulence, and their generals played war like a game of chess... every move lethal.
At the center of the continent stood Rosery Heart, a kingdom of breathtaking beauty and artistic grace. Its people lived in harmony with nature, and its archers... elegant, deadly, precise, could silence an enemy before they ever saw the bowstring tighten.
To the west was Black Spades, a kingdom forged in discipline and stoic resolve. Their warriors were bred, not born, trained from the cradle to hold a sword, to follow orders, and to die without question. Their strength lay not in numbers, but in loyalty and control.
And in the untamed wilds of the north, there was Luck Heart, a kingdom of raw power. Its people were strong, wild, and nearly mythic in their prowess. Each warrior was worth an army, a living legend born of battle and raised by chaos.
For as long as history could remember, these four kingdoms were at war. No one could recall how it started. Pride? Greed? A slight blown out of proportion? The reasons had long been buried beneath the mountains of the dead.
But eventually, even the bloodthirsty get tired of the taste of iron.
When the fires of war burned too close to their own thrones, the royal families finally came together. They signed a ceasefire. A fragile contract forged in exhaustion rather than trust.
So the blades were sheathed. The land, scorched and broken, began to breathe again. Towns rebuilt. Graves were dug. And for the first time in centuries, silence fell across the kingdoms.
But peace in a world like this? It's just the pause between heartbeats.
How long would it last?
And what new horrors waited, now that the old ones were sleeping?
OHHH heck yes. Dark forest. No animals. Weird grunts. Traps. Betrayal. You're giving me "Hunter vs Hunter meets Demon Slayer in the Blair Witch woods", and I'm all the way here for it. Let's crank the tension, sharpen the mood, and unleash the paranoia.
The forest was alive, but not with life.
No wind. No birds. No rustling leaves—only the low creak of trees bending under their own weight, and the occasional sharp snap of something that wasn't supposed to break. The moonlight barely slipped through the gnarled canopy above, casting jagged shadows across the forest floor like broken glass. The air was thick, heavy, suffocating.
And then—crack!
A figure in a sleek black suit burst through the underbrush, boots thudding against damp earth, eyes wide and wild. Sweat dripped down his brow, mingling with dirt and blood. His breath came in ragged gasps as he ducked under a spiked branch trap, barely missing its barbed kiss.
Whoosh!
Another trap—thin wires slashed out from the trees. He spun mid-run, twisting his body like liquid shadow, dodging with inches to spare. He didn't slow down. Couldn't. The grunts and screeches behind him were getting closer. Voices—not quite human—called out in a language twisted by rage.
He jumped. One branch to another, moving like a ghost through the trees.
But then—
Dead end.
A steep cliff face loomed ahead, jagged rocks below hungry for bone. No more trees to jump to. No more traps to dodge. Just the heavy silence of something awful closing in.
He turned.
Five figures emerged from the shadows behind him, also cloaked in black suits. Same symbol seared into their chests—a jagged, twisting mark like a snake eating its own tail. Their eyes glowed faintly in the dark. They didn't speak.
He gritted his teeth, raised his blade. "Come on then."
The first one lunged. He sidestepped, drove his dagger deep into the attacker's side, twisting hard. A scream—high and gurgling—echoed through the trees as the body dropped.
Four left.
The leader stepped forward. He was taller, his mask etched with red streaks. His presence hit like a wall.
The suited man lunged first—but the leader was faster.
A flash of steel. A sickening crack.
Then silence.
The man fell to his knees, blood leaking from his mouth, eyes wide in disbelief.
The leader knelt beside him, whispering something only the dying could hear.
But before the others could move, a sudden rustle came from a nearby bush.
They all froze.
A low grunt. Then a screech. Something not human.
The group turned their heads—just for a moment.
And vanished.
Gone. Like smoke in the wind.
The dead man's body twitched once… then stilled.
The forest returned to silence.
But not peace.