AndyB_writes

Born in exile, Pyrrhus of Epirus rises to reclaim his lost kingdom, proving himself a warrior as fierce as his ancestor, Achilles. From the battlefields of Greece to the war-torn lands of Italy, he wages war against powerful enemies, including Macedon, Rome, and shifting allies who betray him at every turn. As he builds an empire through blood and conquest, Pyrrhus seeks not just victory, but immortality—a place among the greatest legends of history.

But war demands sacrifice. And the price of ambition is steep.


Years after his father’s fall, Alexander II of Epirus is forced into exile, raised in a land of warriors. As a young king, he reclaims his throne and seeks to restore his father’s legacy. But he soon faces an even greater threat—Rome, an empire that will not bow to kings or gods.

Outnumbered and surrounded by betrayal, Alexander must decide what kind of ruler he will be—one who fights for his people, or one who fights for history. As war consumes the land, his destiny unfolds in a battle that will determine not only his fate, but the fate of all who defy the rise of an empire.

Crown and Blood

The battle raged like a storm, the air thick with the scent of blood and dust.

Alexander's sword was slick with red, his breath heavy as he cut through the enemy lines.

He had trained for this moment, bled for this moment.

And now, he would claim his destiny.

Across the battlefield, Antigonus II Gonatas rode forward, his royal banner fluttering.

His eyes locked onto Alexander's, filled with cold calculation.

The Macedonian king spurred his horse straight toward Alexander.

Alexander tightened his grip on his sword.

The two kings galloped toward each other, their horses kicking up dust.

The world slowed, the sound of battle fading into silence.

Antigonus swung his sword first, aiming for Alexander's head.

Alexander ducked, his instincts sharper than ever. He countered, his blade slicing across Antigonus's shoulder.

The Macedonian king grunted in pain but did not fall.

Instead, he wheeled around, eyes burning with fury.

"You fight well," Antigonus admitted. "But you are not your father."

The duel raged on, their swords clashing in a deadly rhythm.

Alexander's arms burned, his breath ragged. Antigonus was skilled—far more skilled than he had expected.

But Alexander had something Antigonus did not.

With a sudden burst of speed, Alexander feinted left, then spun his sword upward—

His blade slammed into Antigonus's chest, piercing his armor.

The Macedonian king's eyes widened.

For a moment, he looked almost… surprised.

Then, he fell from his horse, crashing onto the blood-soaked ground.

The Epirotes and Illyrians cheered as Alexander dismounted, standing over the fallen king.

Antigonus gasped for breath, his hand weakly gripping the wound.

Antigonus let out a ragged chuckle, blood trickling from his lips. "Then finish it."

And drove it through the heart of the King of Macedon.

The moment Antigonus died, the Macedonian army broke.

Some fled. Others dropped their weapons, surrendering.

Alexander stood amidst the bodies, his chest rising and falling.

The Epirote nobles knelt before him, one by one.

Drakon approached, blood dripping from his sword. He looked at Alexander with pride and respect.

Alexander lifted his sword into the air.

The warriors echoed his cry, the sound shaking the battlefield.

The Duel of Kings