A hissing sound pierces in the thin air as a single arrow flew past across the heavily guarded stone wall of the Kingdom. And like a signal for the battle to start, straight arrows burn with flames on each sharp tip storm Artheiaya as innocent bystanders outcry for help.

"The Kingdom is under attack!" A cry resounded the whole plaza, breaking the shocking silence and building fear for anyone after the realization.

Multiple cries echoed the floor, trembles from the heavy impact of feet stumping as they run from anxiety. Completely uncertain where they could hide from the upcoming massacre.

Everybody knows that majority of Artheians have turned their back to their own Kingdom. But who would have thought that they will attempt to destroy the place they call home, just like that? The royal family has fallen into a no-return situation. Many allies of the throne have been assassinated these past few weeks, yet the King has yet to move. It's like they completely disappeared. The only ones left are the people who are too weak and inferior to even care about the revolt. Hence, the ones who are fated to die on this point.

In the eyes of an orphan who turned fugitive after escaping the orphanage, he has never seen the night gets so lighted up. With blank eyes, he stared at a place beneath the bridge that was burning. He saw ripples of fire and tiny sparks dancing in the air, sparkling. He felt his hands feeling a sensation of heat, so he looks down to see that the fire is an inch from him, but he never moved. It's like, every energy he had a while ago as he escaped the arrows and people fighting on the streets were all gone. The only thing he felt is anguish and melancholy. He saw his hands gripping right on the wild glass that slowly burns with his hands. He removed his grasp on it after feeling a tinge of pain after seeing his hands burnt and sizzling with his blood.

It made him wonder how could such a thing happen. Why is it always them? He looks over again at the burning bridge, but his eyes caught the water underneath it. Water can kill the fire, and he knows that. Back then, when the old lady in the orphanage burned the other kids' clothes, she will use fire and kill it with a bucket of water after everything is burned out. He weakly stands up and runs, stumbling even, to the river. He uses his tiny hands to scoop some water and watch it slip between his hands with his blood. Ignoring the pain he is feeling, he scoops the water again and runs towards the area underneath the bridge where a hole is situated; in there are his two friends and younger brother. He splashes it, but to no avail; he completely vanished from the fire without even deflating it an inch. He stopped before removing his tattered clothes and wrapped them around his head. With desperation, ignoring the heat and pain from the fire, he runs into it.

Meters away, a woman in her twenties grabbed her daughter's hand and secured her baby's body in front of her chest tied on her neck.

"Come on, Vicky! Run!" She shouted as she drags her daughter's hand, but the latter still doesn't move and cries on the floor.

"No, mama! Daddy is still there! He is lying there! He needs us!" The mother looks around and saw her husband lying on the grounds, bathing in his blood as multiple arrows are pierced on his back. His eyes are open as he seemed to stare at them with fear, but she knew her husband is dead. He protected them. She desperately yanks her daughter, and teary-eyed yelled at her.

"Stop it, Vicky! Your father will hate us. Let us go!" She carried her daughter, who still cries on her shoulder. Ignoring the heaviness on her arms, she runs without looking back. She ignores the bodies lying around; she turns in an alley; she knows this area. Everyone knows the whole revolt thing, but no one said that they would include hurting even those who are not part of any of it. But she and her husband were prepared. They were talking about this yesterday as the assassinations of the nobles continue; unfortunately, her husband got hurt while running away. But she must keep on running to protect her children. At least, she must save her two kids; that is all she is_.

A loud thud sound was heard in the dark alley as the woman fell on her knees. Vicky was shocked by what happened, she looks up after feeling a drip of water on her head, to see her mother without her whole head and lots of blood raining from the sudden cut. Vicky shrieked as her eyes opened so big and her mouth stretching from fright.

"Looks like a bystander."

"You are so careless!"

But she never even got the chance to process this whole scene as Vicky felt a whiff of pain and soon blacked out.

These men are members of the revolt. They know every corner in the Kingdom as they are citizens themselves. They git news that many fled in this area as it has an underground path leading outside the Kingdom. So, they were there and have killed everyone. Some of them are nobles, which is an excellent achievement for them. They will receive rewards for this. The other man dragged the bodies and saw a baby tied on the shoulder of the woman.

"Well, well." He raises his sword but didn't continue it. "Well, if no one will see him, he'll die anyway." He said as he lowers his sword and throws the woman on the mountain of bodies at the underground path entrance. Some heads are on the other side; those are the heads of the nobles they killed to present evidence that they killed them.

"Hey, the beer is here!" His comrade called him, so he looks over them to see countless revolt members drinking and celebrating already. He smiled before walking to them. "And here I thought that I'd get a noble," he laughed before drinking his beer.

Commander Black watches the sunset's lacquer, like a fire slowly engulfing the sky's vibrant blue shade as the sun hides underneath the ocean and ground. He's dying, and he knows it. He felt tremendous discomfort from the big slashed wound on his chest. He has been defeated after fighting thousands of people with just one battalion on his side. He has killed some comrades and loyal subjects. Who would have thought that there will come a time that he will kill his countrymen? With great difficulty, he stands up and slowly walks to the throne. There, he saw a devastating sight. The once magnificent throne is now covered in blood; a drape of the high-quality red robe is on the floor hanging on the body of whom everyone used to bow down to, the King. The Glyvecaruis God statue is on the ground; some of its parts are now crumbling and have turned into dust.

"Your majesty," he falls to the ground and soon stopped moving. You'll see Commander Black's body full of wounds that are pierced deeper into his internal organs. It is a miracle that he was still able to fight until the very end.

Artheiaya has fallen. Many nobles have turned their's back to the royal family as well. Including the family of Lady Adelina Jean Brickendom; the Marquess Brickendom Family.

As the sky illuminated a lesion of moonlight-yellow light, covering the sky; a disturbing smell of blood devouring the air all over the Kingdom as the continuous storm of fire arrows skirling and sizzling drift through the sky and screams and wails of innocent bystanders echoed across the ground; the Brickendom Family looks over each other with a sense of fear in their eyes.

"When will this be over? It's been over a week!" The Marchioness asks the Marquess, but he didn't reply to his wife; instead looks over his daughter, Adelina.

"It'll be over soon," he stares at Adelina before sighing, " I know what you're thinking, but Adelina, you must think about the future of our clan. Even your uncles and aunts are counting on you for us to survive!"

The revolt organization has been continuously eyeing them as they were once a close subordinate of the royal family. He is not afraid to fight, but the royal family's sudden disappearance scared him hence acting on his own. No one will help their family. The royal family must have escaped, at least. So, he is just looking over his own family; indeed, the royal family will not look at him with anger as they were the ones who fled.