That Day.

Everything ended on that day.

It was the 16th of June, 2157. On that particular morning, the sky was a brilliant blue, clear and wide, unmarred by even the faintest of clouds. The full force of the sun shone down onto the city, casting its warmth onto those who embraced its cheerful rays.

Yet, no one did. No one wanted to. Not even Robert, who was currently shuffling through the crowded streets of the city square, just one of the thousands of ordinary office workers hurrying to their places of work.

The bright glow of endless advertisements filled the screens on buildings as far as the eye could see. One particular screen on the side of a nearby skyscraper blared an ad for a new product launch, featuring a perfectly polished model flashing her perfectly-polished pearly whites at the not-so-perfectly polished residents below, as if to suggest that life was something to smile about.

But Robert wasn't smiling. He never was. Not since that morning, not since any morning he could remember, really. As if life was something to smile about.

The other residents seemed to share his sentiment. They moved like ghosts—heads bowed, absorbed by their own little screens, trapped in their own depressing lives. Not a single one of them was smiling. No one looked up anymore. No one had the time, nor the energy. Not since the war began.

This was also true for Robert. The small briefcase he carried in his skinny little hands felt heavier with every step, the crushing weight of the future pressing down on his back. The war had affected everyone, bringing out the worst in all of them. For everyone knew that somewhere, hundreds of miles away in the desolate jungles, thousands of men were being sent to their deaths every second, simply to buy another moment for people like them to keep up the illusion of normalcy in the midst of constant warfare.

Whether it be lucky or not, Robert was one of the lucky few men who were not drafted into war. The same could not be said for Robert's own father had been drafted and died fighting in the war. The day the letter confirming his father's death arrived was the day Robert came closest to ending it all. But, like so many others before him, his resolve crumbled at the sight of the towering height of the building.

"That's enough," Robert told himself. He had promised never to let his mind wander down that dark path again. "I've arrived."

Robert stopped at the entrance of the office building, reached out with his skinny little hand, and grabbed the door handle, ready to go on another one of his mundane daily office routines.

But it was then that he noticed something felt off. The usual hum of conversation had died down, replaced by a strange, unsettling murmur. He turned around, just to see that a few people had stopped to look up at the buildings. No—scratch that—a lot of people had halted their movement, all raising their heads. A slight tingle of unease settled in Robert's throat, and following the gaze of the crowd, he lifted his eyes. Thats when he noticed it - something abnormal. The once-constant flood of advertisements of sleek cars, shiny gadgets, and promises of happiness—had been replaced by an eerie, empty screen.

His heart skipped a beat. This was strange. Very strange. A cold wave of dread washed over him. For just a fleeting moment, Robert thought, maybe—just maybe—the protection they'd relied on, the one built up by the bodies of the countless soldiers who had died on the frontlines, had finally crumbled. His grip on his briefcase tightened.

Then, all of a sudden, the billboards came to life. All at once.

In place of the familiar ads, a single broadcast filled the screens of every building as far as the eye could see. In the center of it, a man stood, his expression hard and unyielding. Robery recognised him as the current supreme leader of True People and their cities.

A hush fell over the crowd. They all instinctively knew this was something they had to witness. If their movement had been ghostly before, now they resembled a zombie horde, frozen in place, eyes glued at the human figure on the screen. 

The man on the screen took a deep breath, and opens his mouth.

Then the voice came.

"This is a message to all residents," his voice echoed, crisp and cold.

"All True People of Noctiria, your Great War ends today."

The words struck like a blade, and for a moment, Robert thought he might be dreaming. His mind scrambled to catch up, trying to make sense of the impossible words.

"For too long, this war has dragged on. For too long, we have suffered. And so, drastic measures will be taken."

"You see, my men have reaserched into weapons of destruction that could turn the tides in the war, and we have come to the conclusion that only eradication of the enemy can stop it once and for all. And thus, we turn to our final solution. "

A giant 30-second countdown timer flickered into existence in the corner of the screen.

"For we have developed a bomb. A bomb, so powerful and destructive, that, in theory, could spell the end of an entire Magical Kingdom all by itself.

28...

"This timer is counting down the time left until this bomb will be unleashed onto the filthy Arcanists."

26...

"WE HAVE SUFFERED FOR YEARS."

24...

"THEY TORE APART OUR FAMILIES."

22...

"THEY DESTROYED OUR HOMES."

20...

"THEY KILLED WHAT MADE US HUMAN."

18...

"NOW, WE TAKE THAT FROM THEM."

16...

"TODAY, WE WILL DESTROY THEM!"

14...

"TODAY, WE ERASE THEM!"

12...

"TODAY, THEY DIE!"

And as if on cue, when the timer hit 10 seconds, the image displayed on the screen switched to reveal a view of the city—No, not a city, it was the Magical kingdom. Not just any magical kingdom: it was Elynor, the Capital of all Kingdoms of Magic.

"Ten seconds..." The timer ticked on, and Robert's heart began to pound in his chest.

In the footage being broadcasted, a small dot could be seen in the sky above the city, a mere speck at first, but quickly growing larger, hurtling toward the city below with increasing speed.

Robert stood frozen in place, unable to tear his gaze away from the screen, his body stiff, every inch of him straining to make sense of the madness unfolding before him.

"Five seconds..."

The air thickened. Time felt like it was stretching. The bomb was halfway from where it was 5 seconds ago.

"Three..."

A drop of sweat formed on Robert's chin, trembling precariously, as if it too was aware of the weight of the moment.

"Two..."

The drop teetered on the edge, holding its position, unwilling to fall.

"One..."

The drop clung onto the last milimeter of grip it had on the chin, before -

"Zero."

And the screen, as if on cue, the screen turned black.

Robert's heart skipped a beat. Would this be the end of the war? Was the war... finally ov- 

And then, everything Robert saw collapsed, all at once.

A split second stretched into infinity, in fact, Robert stretched into infinity, then…

Silence.