Twenty years ago.
The flames roared, glaringly red.
Bulida City on the Blood Cleansing Day was engulfed in a sea of fire.
The celebratory atmosphere of the National Day festival had long been replaced by fury and revolt.
On streets once bustling with activity, only cries, screams, and wails could be heard.
Mobs surged like waves toward aristocratic estates, wielding knives, clubs, and weapons, with hatred burning in their eyes.
Most of the major buildings in the city were attacked; thick smoke blanketed the sky, tongues of flame licked at ancient wooden beams. Occasionally, panicked nobles escaped by carriage, only to be intercepted by the enraged crowd wielding heavy weapons. Women adorned with gold and jewels were dragged from the carriages; their jewelry and accessories snatched away. Soon, they lay lifeless on the ground, faces stained in blood.
