Welcome to chapter 2 of this dark fic.

So this is rather short, comparing to the first one. Well this is pretty much a sudden idea surging through my mind while I am writing a longer chapter for this fic (which will come in later). I was looking for a few stories about war so that I can have some inspirations and ideas to continue that chapter, and then I found the trailer 'Super Dad' for the expansion pack 'The Little Ones' of the game 'This War of Mine'. And I loved it, for how it conveys the horrors of war. So I decided to take the idea and make it into a full chapter instead. This is done in just a few hours, so the quality may be pretty bad comparing to the first chapter, so please forgive me.

Chapter preview: A captain (or someone in charge of a battalion, depending on how you see it) reflects on everything he have done for the survival of himself and his family, and his son's impression of him.

Let me tell you a story. A great story.

It's about my father.

He is the greatest war hero that Falmart has ever had.

He is the son of my grandfather, all by blood, but some people say he isn't. They say that he is the son of Hercules instead. My father is really, really strong! He can lift a rock that is as twice as large as him! No arrows or swords can pierce through him! He is the god of victory for all the citizens of Falmart, a death sign for his enemies, and a haunting nightmare for those who managed to survive to tell the tales. Bad guys simply don't stand a chance.

Last year, a group of evil men wearing green uniforms invaded Falmart, killing and robbing many innocent civilians. Our government sent troops to kill them, but can't. They were really strong! They killed all our troops without effort and mercy. But my father wasn't hurt. He got superpower. He stood still on the battlefield and killed them one by one. Their powerful weapons meant nothing to him. Last week, he commanded our troops and defeated them at their lair at Italica! But his work here is not done yet. The evil green men are still being stubborn. Someone has to take care of them.

Spring 688

Today I was allowed to return home to see my son. The sight of him playing cheerfully really relieved me. And the fact that he ran towards me and hugged me tightly really melted me, lifting all the stress on my shoulder. He told me all kinds of stories, how everybody here sees me as a great hero, a savior, and a son of god. And he told me how proud he was to be my child, by blood.

Damn, I envy you.

I'd wish you hadn't said that. Now I am more and more afraid about disappointing you.

You see, I am not the one being described as. Hero, savior, son of god? Yeah right. A hero that went out to plunder and massacre a whole village full of innocent villagers only because they refuse to comply with prince Zorzal's scorched earth policy. A savior that sent thousands of soldiers to their horrible deaths. A son of god who failed to win even one single battle against an army dozens of times smaller then his. I bet Hercules would be ashamed of what his son is doing.

I am no hero. There is nothing justifiable in what I have done. All I have committed is causing tragedies and terrors to the people. They only said that because they have not seen what I have seen. Here, people think I am a god, a person who deserves all the worships I can get, but elsewhere faraway, they loathe at me, wishing that I would just burn in hell already. Those that I have hurted, with my own hands.

I hated them. I wished they could just stop lionizing me. I don't want to disappoint them. I don't want to act like someone that I cannot ever become.

But my son.

I can't bring myself to hate him, like how I did with those ignorant people.

He was smiling so cheerfully when he boasted about me. That naive, happy and proud smile. I am so jealous. Jealous at his ignorance that I always hated.

Because in his world right now, there is only good and evil…black and white. You know what is right and wrong, who is good and evil.

While mine…

Mine is made up of all kinds of shades. There's no sign to tell you the right way.

For my own survival, I have thrown my men ahead of me on the battlefield, sending them into the pit of doom. I know that is morally wrong, but what else can you do. If you don't do it, then your ruthless prince would throw you to his sword.

I have no choice.

I'm sorry, my son. For not being the person you always dreamt me of being.

I'm sorry, my men. For selfishly sending you to die a death that you all do not deserve.

I'm sorry, everyone. For doing all the acts that I can never ever redeem or forgive myself for. There is absolutely no excuses for my actions except for the one bitter fact that I have changed into an immorally degrading person.

Now that it has come to this point, I can only hope a one small thing that everybody else in Falmart are hoping for: Peace.

I'm tired of all the killings I have seen, the deaths I have mourned, the tragedies I have witnessed, and the hell I have been through. War is such a delusional thing people wage on others. I've thought of it to be glorious, and that I could bring honour to my ancestors. But it turns out to be a fight of survival, even among our own allies, a house of misfortune and tragedies. There is absolutely nothing that I have been seeking for. Nothing…

I will have to return to the battlefield once my break is over. Back to the flames and bloods. The JSDF is heading towards Mare, we are to be there to stop them.

Just how longer must I endure this. I feel terrible. For how I am about to send another hundreds of men to their demise. But for your own survival, and the lives of my family, you will have to trust your guts, and pray to God for forgiveness to all what you have done and about to do.

Whatever that means now…

The title is a bit misleading. But I couldn't think of anything more interesting than that