The setting sun sank to the horizon, casting a blanket of red across the sky. The sea of blood drifted above, guiding the departed souls. Hand Snake City fell into a crimson shadow, embracing its inevitable doom.
Black Wolf sat cross-legged atop the city walls, watching the enemy city engulfed in blood and fire, feeling no ripples in his heart.
He was born into a family of commoner samurai of the Alliance, his grandfather had died in the North, and his father had perished in the South. During his five years at the community military academy, the seasoned samurai told them that to survive in battle, advance in battle, and then die in battle, was the life of a Mexica samurai.
The purpose of a samurai's existence was to fight for the gods, the King, the priests, the family, and honor. Therefore, he was indifferent to killing and unafraid of death; it was all but destiny.