Eight people sat around a crackling fire in what looked like the ruins of an old city. Stone and brick walls half-crumbled everywhere. The smoke of other fires bellowing up into the night sky all around, voices of people could be heard throughout.
The eight looked rough, bruised, wounded, clothes tattered, and barely holding it together.
By the fire stood an old man stirring a giant kettle of stew. He grinned suddenly, a grin too wide to seem natural.
"Stew's done! Time to eat! I like stew, you like stew, right?"
The man didn't wait for an answer.
"Of course you do, you aren't some savages who don't like stew, or ghosts. I don't like ghosts, either kind. The ones who scream or the quiet ones that watch you sleep. No, no, no, stew is the best."
He moved to hand each of the eight a bowl of warm, hearty stew.
"It's nice to talk to people again, real people, most here stay away from me. I really don't know why. Names Mugwort, I think they gave it to me? Or I chose it, I do like the herb, it's perfect in stew. Here you can be anyone you want to be."
'You can be anyone you want to be.' For some reason, this line stuck in the head of the young man with black hair sitting on the ground, back against a log, staring into the fire.
Since arriving here at this camp, the eight hadn't said as much as a word to each other; they were all trying to make sense of what had happened to them, then he broke the silence.
"I'm Argent, in this place...," his eyes not moving from the flame of the fire, "in this place, my name is Argent."
As the fire moved, he was reliving what had happened just hours before.
***
Argent's knees hit the ground hard and sank into the mud. Pushing his hands down to get his balance after the fall. He looked up and saw a large muddy field surrounded by a thick mist, much different from the apartment he was just in seconds ago.
People, maybe a hundred of them, all trying to catch their breath and stand up to figure out just where they were.
'What is happening, where am I, who are all these people?"
Some of the other people were screaming, some were kneeling in silence, dazed and shivering. One thing was clear: all of these people were just taken out of one world and put into another.
As Argent went to stand up, the first thud came, then another, and another.
For some reason, Argent was calm. He stood up and looked into the fog where the sound was coming from.
Sillhouettes of massive figures began to emerge from the mist. Large and imposing.
They were at least fourteen feet tall, towering over the crowd of people like ancient statues come to life. Their skin was greyish with hues of blue, etched with spiraling tattoos that moved like oil on water.
People started to panic; most just froze in fear.
One giant stepped forward, a long, curved blade as tall as a person in one of his hands.
"Welcome humans... to the world of eternal war."
Spreading his arms wide, gesturing to the field, "This is your party, your initiation."
Then he swung, his blade moved too fast for something that large and heavy. Cleaving straight through the three people who stood directly in front of it.
People started to scatter, screaming, running for their lives. Only to be cut down by more of the giants.
Argent didn't move; his legs were locked as he watched the chaos unfolding in front of him.
Then it came, all of a sudden, a truth settled into his mind.
'If I die here, I will be revived right after.'
A single voice rang throughout his head, "Take the fortresses, unlock the Apex."
'I see, this isn't a war for ideology or simple conquest, there's a goal, a reason.'
More information flooded his mind, but it didn't matter now. Argent reached down into the mud searching for anything to fight with. His hands clenched around the handle of a weapon, well, something like a weapon.
He pulled out two jagged shards of metal, gripping them tight as he stood up straight. While others panicked, he felt nothing but calm. As if he had finally found the purpose he had always wanted but never had.
Looking around, seeing the eyes of those terrified, lost, hopeless, and dying, he felt the resolve to shout.
"If death doesn't matter, then why not make the best of it?"
No one answered.
"Why not fight till we can't?!"
Something stirred in a few of the people, a flicker. Just enough to spark the rage of being dropped in this horrific world with nothing, a spark to ignite the will to fight.
Argent didn't wait; he didn't take time to think of a strategy; he just charged forward. Mud flying up behind him as he sprinted right for the first giant who spoke.
The giant was amused, "HA! Most fresh humans run, scream, and cry. Look at this one coming right for me."
For the first time in Argent's life, he wasn't wondering or planning what came next; he was just acting on reflex.
The giant met his charge with a heavy downward swing. Again, it was fast, impossibly fast. Argent barely dodged it; the blade roared right past his head, dragging heavy wind behind its swing, cutting through the mud.
Argent lunged forward, slashing the jagged pieces of metal across the giant's chest. The blades scraped harmlessly off the giant's thick, almost rock-like skin.
The giant responded with a swift backhand, a casual yet brutal motion that sent Argent flying backwards into the mud.
White-hot pain seared through Argent's chest; he coughed and tasted the tinge of blood.
'Ugh, I can feel it, one, maybe two ribs are cracked. I can't stop, I have to keep moving forward. This is my chance to live; if I have to die to do that, then I will do so, never turning back. '