A war destined to be filled with despair is about to unfold.
...
The remnants of fire still burn amidst the ruins of Seldo Port under the dusky night, casting grim and dark shadows over the dilapidated streets.
The sea wind gusts through the port, carrying the scent of gunpowder and blood, and unfurls the flags on the Imperial Army's warship decks, making them flutter loudly in the night.
In the cabin of the warship, General Hamoldon's soldiers are making their final preparations, polishing armor, adjusting weapons, closing their eyes to refresh, with no unnecessary words between them—only heavy breathing and resolute gazes.
They know tomorrow's battle is a deadly one, but no one retreats; everyone is prepared to face death.
Under the night breeze, Hamoldon's legion is like a blade poised to pierce the darkness, vigil until the dawn arrives.
Standing on the deck of the warship, General Hamoldon draws his sword and raises it above his head.
"We will never retreat!"
