𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓉ℯ𝓇 10 - 𝒜𝒻𝓉ℯ𝓇 ℬ𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓈 (3)

On a table lay 4 books, and below it on a chair sat Noir. The chair was comfortable, although wooden, and Noir opened the first book on the table named Sohar Swardia by Urkan Majedi. Noir didn't know what the first word meant, but this book had a high rating, and that is all that mattered. Flipping to the index page, he analyzed its contents:

CONTENTS

• Introduction

• The age of turmoil

• The Irstian Refugees

• The Eleanorian Wars

• The land of Arkov

• The 1st Elea-Prostiv War

• The Incident

• The 2nd Elea-Prostiv War

• The arrival of the Rusfas

• Khirsone & the rest

• The land of Blood

• 50 years of Hatred

• The hero

• A sign of change

• Sohar Svardia

• The Final Turbulence

Gangs... I see no gangs...

Noir opened the second book named Fitul Svardia by Urkan Majedi and immediately opened the contents page:

CONTENTS

• Introduction

• The Final Turbulence

• The Cries of Babies

• The Gang Wars

• Unrest & Division

• A new system

• Borab Hurkan

• The incident

• Fitul Svardia

Although Noir read the Gangs Wars tag, he read further just in case. As there seemed to be nothing directly related to gangs further on, he directly flipped over to page number 82.

{The Gang Wars}

{First of all, this chapter might seem personal, and your observations will be correct, as I have witnessed this period in its depravity. My editor did suggest being more eloquent and impersonal, but for this one chapter I believe the rawness will serve well. I have written this in one go with basic proofreading, additional curly brackets for clarity, and a few disclaimers.

The gang wars started just after the announcement of the sectors. The period between the years 1920 and 1935 was an extremely cruel period. It wasn't cruel because there was an outside threat, which led to massive destruction. If (quoting the chapter "50 Years of Hatred"), women back then were horrified to raids, wars, and pillages that would leave them a scar for their lives; this time they were afraid of their neighbors such that they couldn't leave their homes without the fear of something that would be worse than death. Therefore, I stress that the burning of the newborns was much more than the cries of those who couldn't speak.

I have thought of it multiple times, and I have reached a conclusion that that single incident was worse than the total atrocities that have taken place over the period of the last 80 years. A million were killed; women were defiled on open streets as a sign of nothing but power. And those women that were defiled remained nothing but a stigma among their group.

82}

The page had a little empty space at the end; Noir turned to the next with a heavier heart.

{Skip ahead to page number 86 if you are not interested in an experience that I have lived through. I must warn you that it is extremely gruesome.

One of my neighbors killed their 16-year-old daughter as they couldn't handle the shame. She had been defiled by a brute who was twice her age. The next day I saw a head hanging outside their door, with a hook attached to her forehead, and I would prefer not to describe it for you, but it carried the pain of betrayal in simple words. I will not disclose the ethnicity, as it goes against all I stand for, but their people (her parents and many of the members of the gang they were part of) had a party the next day with the girls' parents in their home; I could hear them shouting and cheering for the cruel deed that they had done. I was extremely scared back then, and I was alone with my newborn baby brother. My parents and elder brothers had gone for a gang meeting, and they wouldn't return for a few hours at least. I was a curious kid; I still am. I wanted to see if the head was still there; I was slightly attached to that girl, and I wanted to believe I had seen wrong. She had always been kind to me, and she gave me choco balls with a slightly minty flavor with a smile. As I moved closer to the door, the sound of jeering muffled slightly, and instead there was another sound that I heard; it wasn't coming from the other house but from the outside, and it was definitely masculine.

83}

{Whoever the man was, he was cussing and shouting vulgarly and without any form of restraint. I remember his words clearly to this day: "You bitch, this is what you deserve. You should have been fucked by me. You should have known your place. You know what? I got a better use for you." Then he started laughing as I stood before the door. I heard some softer rustling, after which came footsteps. It passed by my door and is somewhere else. After a few minutes when I opened my door, the head wasn't there.

Now, some of you might question me calling the single incident worse than anything in our history. You might say that this has happened in the past, before the formation of Svardia. You might say that perhaps my case was extremely isolated. But I can assure you that what I have shared with you is only the tip of the iceberg. As a person who was a child growing up in this period, I have seen what the world cannot believe. I have seen the worst in humanity. I have seen worse than babies burning alive; I have seen worse than their mothers crying. I have questioned whether a mistake is all it would take for me to be discarded. I have seen the absurd indifference of humanity, even related to the ones they have loved. I have seen the inhuman, or maybe what a human truly was designed to be.

History told is only told. Experiences escape those that have read. It is a curse for those who have experienced history to never be understood, for they will never be understood.

84}

{The shared unity that had begun to grow vanished overnight after that single incident. An incident that to date remains a mystery. Nobody knows who started it; nobody knows if it just was a mistake. But the misinformation ruined it all. The crime and baseness of humanity prevailed such that the law, police, and every institution were divided as per race. You, the young of Svardia, I have thus constantly hoped that you would work towards the betterment of our nation.

The trials to create a more heterogeneous society had come back to bite the government. The gangs were a mix of people with different goals; some truly wanted change, some were purely terrified, some wanted the benefits such as food, clothing, and shelter provided, and some joined in just for fun—these were the monsters in human clothing. Yes, these monsters must have indeed committed atrocities, which cannot be comprehended by the people of today, but their sins cannot touch the toe of the absolute indifference of humanity. I have seen babies, 1-year-olds... 2-year-olds parading the streets, not knowing a thing about the cruelty of their race, crying, innocent, as their parents vanished into oblivion. My younger brother was one of them; I never saw him again. I was chosen above him.

This chapter will talk about the worst period in our history—the gang wars, a period not talked about nearly enough in our books. Before I start, I would like you to know the government's actions in this period will be discussed in the next chapter. So if, therefore, any of you are weak at heart or don't care about my experiences or happenings in detail for whatever reason, I would suggest that you skip the chapter.

85}

Without wasting a second, Noir turned to the next page.

{This chapter is divided into three parts, namely:

1. The early phase (1920 - 1924)

2. The middle phase (1925 - 1931)

3. The later phase (1932 to 1935)

The early phase

We are not sure who came up with the idea of forming a gang. Some say it was one of the parents of the children who in his/her rage swore to see an end to whoever had caused the demise of their precious child. Others say that it wasn't exactly a person, but it was instead natural human instinct. People huddled up together for a sense of security, and then as time passed, things changed into the gangs that we know of. The general consensus is that we do not know exactly how it all started, but we do know the brutality that unfolded later. Things were extremely chaotic back then and even before, and a lot of our history isn't exactly well documented. Still, if one were to think of Svardia's history, it isn't difficult to see how things devolved so quickly; it is almost as if it were written in our blood. I personally lean towards the second hypothesis.

Initially, in 1920, a period that is shrouded in mystery, people used to walk on the streets alone with a bit of anxiety as they were rightfully unsure of what was to come, but everybody could sense an omen. At least before Svardia was formed, each side had their own military, and the threat existed from the outsiders.

86}

{But now could one truly trust their neighbor? What if one of them knew about the burning? What if one of them had taken part in it? After all, the scale of it was massive, and no one truly knew who did it. The Eleanorians were out of the picture, obviously, unless a person was cynical enough to believe that they had burned a thousand of their young. And then there was the permanent fear of their retaliation. Everyone knew that just like them, the Eleanorians were clueless as well, and just in case they did know, they didn't know. What if someone from their community had done it and suddenly one day they found a bullet in their head?

Still, people had to earn a livelihood, and so they would move to their workplace holding in their anxiousness. The jobs back then were mostly related to carpentry, forestation, and construction. Svardia was developing then, extremely new, and had always been extremely fertile, filled with natural vegetation. A lot of death came from the wild, in fact.

For the sake of depiction in your minds, imagine this: Approximately fifty percent of Svarida was a forest after the massive amounts of deforestation that had taken place from the early 1900s onward. Most of the people lived in apartments. My house was planned to be a bungalow initially, but the government had imposed various taxes and such under the name of inclusivity and a lack of workers, and therefore my parents decided to live in an apartment, fortunately made up of cement. Those who were richer lived in better spaces, safer, more guarded areas (not only from crime but from wildlife as well; back then a venomous snake was as common as a dog today)

87}

{The streets that I have mentioned were just dust roads, with the areas where the important lived having marble floors and such—a tradition that, in some form, carries on to this date. And now imagine a cluster of these apartments (around 30); a few governmental buildings such as a police station, a basic hospital, and such; and a basic bazaar having the essentials, formed by the people. All of this was surrounded by trees, a dense forest—this is called a block. And in this block, say, there were people from all ethnicities living side by side, not really interacting with the others; their languages were different, although English was being promoted, cultural differences existed as well, and most importantly, distrust. If a misunderstanding took place due to a lack of communication, people just assumed the worst of the other. If you were to walk a few kilometers (Svardia didn't have a vehicular industry back then; they would have to be transported by a ship from the other continents, and horses weren't indigenous), you would find other such blocks, and this situation would repeat over there as well.

For the first three months, people were people—they cared about their families; everyone wanted to live. Meanwhile, the Eleanorians were trying to seek justice from the court. They received none because the court knew nothing. Clearly, tensions spiked; the Eleanorians felt isolated in a nation in which they held the most population, and not to forget, the national language was theirs. In the following weeks, scuffles started breaking out and tensions grew, but somehow nothing too major happened.

88}

{Then arrived the news of a 15-year-old Elanorian beaten to death in the town of Sorok by a few drunken men of an ethnicity different from that of the boys. The boy was said to have protected a younger girl from a snake a few months prior. The girl and the men (those who had killed him) were of the same race. This news spread like wildfire; in weeks, most in the nation knew of the incident. The boy turned into an example of kindness to those who didn't deserve it. (mostly to the Elanorians) Parents were worried about their kids; kids were worried that they wouldn't be able to see their parents. And in such a way, people started huddling up together, or, as others say, a particular individual came up with the idea of forming gangs.

Regardless, people started walking the streets in groups, and if one had to be alone, they would return home as soon as they could. This way of organizing themselves started with the people of Eleanor, who had gatherings from time to time in the households of one of their members. This turned into a common pattern throughout the nation, and others started doing the same. The process was drastically accelerated by those who like to have "fun" on all sides. Eventually, these groups started having rules stating who they could talk with, when they could do so, and what they must do if they found anyone who was suspicious. A single mistake such as glancing at another person for a second longer than he/she led to consequences, a scuffle and all, but they weren't that severe. It was all still fine.

89}

{For those who are curious, women sought revenge in two ways: either they had a lot of men in their family, or they asked the men who they were sexually affiliated with to talk some sense into them. "Sense" alluded to different things depending on the men and the women.

By the end of 1920, these groups learned a single lesson: If the rules weren't stricter, both internally and externally, things would turn into a mess. There were a lot of internal issues among the gangs themselves. And therefore, the rules grew stricter; the consequences of a mistake grew heavier, both internally and externally. Groups of people started walking down the street staring at each other. Eye contact was a must. Weakness was the sign of a prey. Eventually people returned back to the 1860s, vigilant and filled with hatred. It seemed as if all those who had grown tired of the brutality were ready to kill at any moment. Then, all of a sudden, what is said to be due to a minor argument that turned into an ethnic debate, the frustrations let loose. Certain blocks faced ethnic cleansing in extreme rage; those that didn't had a death or two every day. The police joined in the depravity based on their ethnicity. The government over time lost a majority of the control; even soldiers thought of themselves as whatever race they were from rather than "Svardian." The groups started calling themselves gangs. This is where I believe the gangs started.

90}

The author went about listing sequentially and in detail about how things had taken place. The early phase consisted of how things gradually turned worse over the next four years. Murder turned common; the government thought of a solution, which was increasing the salary and perks of its employees and aggressively hiring more officers, but this lasted for only the first year as the contingency funds started drying out and most of the officers still sided with their community. Things didn't change much even with these reforms. The aggressive hiring stopped altogether, and the perks were reduced to a state slightly better than they were before. Then over the period of the next four years, the brightest of minds devised certain tests, filtering out those who were loyal to the nation and those who didn't care. Obviously this method wasn't foolproof, but it worked to a certain extent nonetheless.

A neutral body was eventually formed called SUDF (Svardia United Democratic Front), which had a branch in every block. They contained members from every ethnic group who sorted out issues to an extent; other than that, they checked if there was corruption of any sort among the officials. Things improved, but the issue was the gang culture had set in deep. People were loyal to their group, and a certain hierarchy existed. In day-to-day life, the people earned their keep in the ordinary way they had normally done so before. Carpentry, construction, essential needs, and such with an extra bit of protection. Other than that, the number of blocks had increased, development was growing steadily, and people were going the anti-gang route or the pro-gang route.

Towards the end of the first phase, there was an incident where one of the officials was accused of killing a member of the SUDF, and henceforth they were armed. This, in turn, got things to cool down slightly; unfortunately, the anti-gang supremacists were the minorities by far too much. All that existed was a delicate standstill that could crack under two conditions—weakness and emotions.

Then came the middle phase, which Noir read after a burning sigh.

{The middle phase

This was the period in our history when the animosity and division deepened between our people, and the government was forced to act towards the end of it, which led to the worst atrocities imaginable in history. I am not certain at this point if the government was unlucky or stupid or if it enjoyed the chaos. This is the period when I was born to witness murders, rapes, honor killings, and the growing indifference of our society as a norm. I was born into a life where people joked about death, men bragged about rape, fathers killed their children with or without grief, and parents were afraid to form bonds with their young, whose only purpose was to let the cycle of hatred flow to the next generation. And this was the period when I, as a curious child, observed the true beauty in love. Something that, in all cases, solved the unending cycle of hate, even if only for two.

My wife and I met during this period; she is from Rusfa, and as most of you must know, I am from Irst, but she is quite uncomfortable with the thoughts of discussing our love story, and therefore, I will relay another one that I have witnessed when I was around six. Before I start, I will advise you to skip to page number 100 if you aren't interested in it as much, but please do know that the story does help give a view about the general situation back then, and that I am writing the story not only because it would explain things more clearly, trying to get you to live in that experience,

97}

{but also because there isn't much to talk about other than the events, which are repetitive and carry the same weight, giving it the feel of a cold history textbook, although there are a few events, in particular two, which I would like to share. Also, this isn't about that woman whom I had discussed before the early phase part (the part where she wrote the first disclaimer); that moment took place towards the end of the middle phase.

Now in relation to the story: the building that we lived in had 4 floors, with 3 flats per floor; this was the general layout you would have found back then—12—person apartment buildings were the bare minimum. Our block contained around 400 people, with each community containing around the same number of people. Things were quite balanced; maybe I owe it this truth that I am alive. To give you an estimate, every gang had 65 people; the SUDF had the remaining.

My parents were strong members of the Irstian gang of our block, and so was I for the very early part of my life, and so was a man who lived in my building. I knew the man well, as he was Irstian—he was a part of the gang as well. He used to come to our place for lunch or dinner sometime with a bottle of alcohol at least once a week. I don't remember the exact brand or the kind, but my father and he would be completely drunk and out just talking and stammering nonsense. My father had strong opinions, and the man had even more.

98}

{He used to swear all the time, proclaiming that he would end the Eleanorians whom he hated to no end. His logic was that they had taken the issues (killing of a thousand newborns) a bit too far, and they had created this mess. He quite hypocritically said once, "What is done is done. What is the point of a hen crying about its dead child?" He bragged about the men he had tortured and the women that he had raped, and if that weren't enough, he had a list of papers that he carried everywhere, which contained his sexual atrocities. I used to clap back then; I thought he was a hero. My mother used to as well; in fact, I used to follow her lead. I am not sure as to what she truly felt, whether she was proud or lying; it is something I will never know. She was killed, fortunately, only killed, a single year later. Yes, it was culture back then—we were brought up in and taught hatred, and our wise parents wore tinted glasses. The man wore them as well, and they contained the highest quality of tint.

I am sure I haven't joked once as of yet, but here is one. The man fell in love with an Eleanorian woman, the young sister of one of his victims. She fell in love with him too. Maddening, isn't it? And I am sure even the woman disgusts many of you. How could she desecrate her sister in such a way? How could she fall in love with such a man?

100}

{But yet she did; they both did. If I could not vouch it was love or something more devious back then, now I can. Back then I felt betrayed, and I told him on his face that he deserved to die. The man hadn't lashed out at me; instead, he had smiled. It was a sad smile, and I remember feeling this devastation between wanting to forgive him and wanting to hate him forever. He promised me that I would understand all of it one day; he told me, a 6-year-old, about love.

Of course I didn't understand; I didn't care, and neither did society. The next day I visited him and his lover as well; their bodies hung beside each other on a papal tree, informing any youth adventurous enough to risk it about their destiny. Two communities had united that day; each had taken care of their own mess. My father had killed that man, whereas my mother... I am not sure what she felt. She was a woman who wore a smile under a veil. I don't mean to justify his (the man's) deeds, and I don't know anything about the woman at all. But although that site was horrific, I remember a seed of doubt growing in me, questioning the reality that I was constantly served. I was curious as to why the man would do what he did, especially because it was that man. He turned into a laughing stock for us. Don't be "Jaban," they said.

This was our reality, my reality.

(For those who have skipped, I will continue from below.)}

Urkan Majedi talked about the general states of things from the start to the end of the middle phase. Like he had said before, there weren't many incidents, or rather, the incidents were common, like drinking water from a glass cup. No one questions why it has to be glass; it is the way it is.

Urkan was born somewhere around just when the middle phase had started, and towards the end of it, he witnessed the one who had given him birth die; he didn't share it in too much detail, but Noir assumed that it must have had a great impact. Urkan talked about how the SUDF tried to control the ever-escalating tensions, how many of them now known as heroes were killed, and how in many cases they weren't able to wrest control; finally, he talked about the incident that led to his mother's death—the division of Svardia into sectors, to a lesser extent.

Perhaps he will talk about it in the next section... thought Noir as she sighed. He stretched his hands above his head, reminding himself of the uncertainty of his own future. A future greater than his own life. What would Urkan's thoughts have been about his own future? Or perhaps he didn't have any time to care? Survival?

Urkan had written about how intra-block gangs were formed and then their further expansion. About how status and things shifted in the gangs. About how everything was ranked almost in a military-like structure. Cars and guns were more readily available, and the infrastructure had developed, even if it had done so at a snail's pace. History was awaiting a moment for everything to turn into hell. And the moment arrived with a change announced by the government.

{The later phase

If any of you remember, I had called the government unlucky, stupid, or one of those who enjoyed watching the people's misery(Somethign similar) The later part of it comes from a simple announcement that led to the worst period in the history of mankind and possibly in all of [Erok]. It led to the death of an estimated one hundred thousand children; the streets were dyed in innocence.

The announcement was simple—each community/ethnicity would have their own sectors where they could all live in harmony. The populace should have turned happier, and they had, but with a deep-rooted cruelty. Some felt that it was other ethnicities that should have moved. And it wasn't a claim too absurd, as it was where they had rightfully lived for around a generation and a half; it was their home. Disagreements broke out; they did until there was blood. The tension that had been held back in the middle phase, all those teenagers who had been molded by it, let their radical ideologies loose. There were many among them who had swallowed grievances, who turned into demons themselves—they tortured the ones they hated on open streets, spouting their pathetic but saddening radical claims, and although I hesitate, after a brief deliberation, I will reveal a particular instance I have never forgotten. And will never forget until destiny leads me to my end.

Before I begin, I would like to remind you that the apartments had increased in number; the average number of floors (per apartment building) had increased to six. A decent number of roads were now made of concrete, with traveling now easier. Vehicular transport was on the rise.

106}

{It was raining that day; the streets were soaked in rainwater, there were puddles, and there was mud everywhere, but that was not all—people lay still on these streets, lying in these puddles and mud. Among them all, my family had decided to move. My father was stricken by severe depression back then. As much as he barked at my mother before, the moment she had disappeared, he turned into a hollow shell. Before I was born, originally, although I am not sure how he was a person, when I think in retrospect, I believe that he was simply doing the best he could for us and for my mother. And therefore, he realized that there was nothing other than death in the block that we lived in. One of my elder brothers disagreed (I had two of them), stating that we were cowards, but my father, frankly, beat him red and blue with a belt and his fists, and then he cried for the first & the last time I have seen; the sight carried such alienness. to us that I could see my brother's stance softening.

And therefore, on that day we moved through the streets. We were planning to hire a cab (they were rare and extremely pricey, with the only alternative being the trains, which were a scant few, although only for the average common man; the rich had air transport) as quickly as we could at any cost and leave. My father was ready to sacrifice all of his savings; he was ready to do anything to escape this hellhole. And then on that day, the biggest scuffle in our locality broke out. Destiny seemed to have it out for me in one way or the other.

107}

{An argument had started out of almost thin air. It wasn't something new, but how everything unfolded thereafter completely was. What were its contents? Who had started it? I am not privy to such details. All we knew was that the argument had turned into a cascading effect. Two groups went all out; the sound of bullets and rain was the same. This situation had escalated to such an extent that from an everyday bar fight, it turned into an all-out gang war.

To our lucky stars, we Irstians weren't involved. The fight continued for a whole day, and we had witnessed a few hours of it. And we witnessed a scene that showed us the absolute baseness of humanity.

As we were shuffling through the trees with mud and wet soil clinging to footwear towards a more developed area where we could find a taxi, in front of us on a dirty path daubed with mire stood around a dozen or so people (I will emphasize the word "people") in a semicircle. Like I have said, destiny has it out for me; the open side was displayed to me. I knew the disaster that was taking place, as I heard others bragging about it, but I didn't understand why it was taking place. "Rape" had always been a word that I had heard but had never witnessed. A man lay on top of a naked woman who wasn't moving at all. Those who stood around them were cheering and jeering; I had heard a few men shout, asking for their turn. The women looked like they were consoling the men. What was worse was not truly the atrocity but instead a teenage girl watching it all, crying and shouting, "Mother, mother." What impact could such an event have on her psyche? Or maybe she didn't have it soon.

108}

{My body wouldn't move, as curious as I was; I found it absurd. What was the reason behind their actions? In that moment, I questioned everything around me. My father, who had noticed that I had stopped, rushed back to me and slapped me hard. I still didn't move; I was about to cry. Therefore, he dragged me towards the safest area he could think of—the developed area. This is where my elder brother, the one who complained, was shot dead. It was a random drunk straggler who wasn't in his senses; he was muttering incoherent words, pointing his gun at us. He was crying as he was brandishing his pistol. But why would that matter to us, to my father, who was on the verge of truly losing it? He killed that man six times over until his own pistol ran out of bullets. And I had no choice but to witness it. Something in my father had changed again; something in all of us changed again, and we moved towards the area that held taxis, which would lead to the end of our misery. And we did reach it, but it was desolate. All the taxi drivers were missing; they had sensibly escaped.

We could return, but my father grew firmer along with his desperation. You see, our block was situated around 300 kilometers away from the Irstian sector, and that firmed his resolve, and nobody dared to object. It wasn't as if there weren't other blocks where we could stock up and eat; unfortunately, we didn't have the internet back then. What we had witnessed back there was extremely common. Stores, supplies, every shop was raided everywhere. It was an apocalypse.

109}

{At least for the first day we found some supplies. After that, finding one could lead to death, as we were outsiders among outsiders to many. Everything was tense; food, water, clothing, and medical supplies were valued above human life. We realized this on the third day of our travels after we had walked nearly 12 hours every day, when my father had to beg, licking the feet of a man for my elder brother's life, who had just kindly asked for food. My younger brother was barely a year and a half old—he needed some sustenance, and he was carried by either my father or the last of my elder siblings. We suffered a dilemma. We weren't sure if we should continue our journey—hoping for a possibility of survival—or return to a place that had probably turned into a pit of blood.

Time was ticking, and my father made a decision, and as usual, he didn't explain a thing. All he said was, "It is too late to turn back. We dead if we go." I now realize the various reasons he had for that decision: it was too uncertain for one, and we didn't know if our youngest would last. The sector, which wasn't given a name as of yet, was said to be at a distance now that we could reach in two days. (Also, I have forgotten to add something: any vehicle was valued more than food, water, and essential needs. Many of the taxi drivers were killed and their vehicles were stolen.)

Therefore, we trudged ahead bravely towards our destination; unfortunately, misfortune seemed to favor the brave. My father was shot; I don't know who that man was.

110}

{What I remember is that the man wore a scarf on his face and that we were in a mini-jungle. My father almost threw our youngest to the floor and then, using the remnants of his energy, grappled the man, telling us to run, and as weary as we were, we did. Only after I had taken a few steps or so did I realize what we had left behind. My youngest sibling, my baby brother whom I had watched over, was left behind crawling beside my father as a few other men with scarves on shot at him. I heard their laughter; I heard his cries suffused with innocence. I have thought of this for years now; when my father had told us to run, he must have included our youngest as well.

We did reach the new sector. It was indeed a paradise compared to what I had seen before. But paradise was hell, and it was a paradise at the same time as well. It was the place where the last of my blood killed himself as soon as I turned into an adult. It was a place where I was reunited with my now wife. This was the consequence I had to bear; the entirety of Svardia had to suffer for the burning.}

Noir read the entirety of the chapter, which was more informative in nature. Eleanorian gangs were the strongest faction back then, but the Irstian, Rusfan, and Prostivian gangs had formed a coalition. The thread among the alliance was weak, and there were crimes committed between them, but they were insignificant compared to the general state of affairs. The Eleanorians were strong, but they were not innumerable; every life born accompanied 100s of lives lost, and their living only had a certain capacity to watch their loved ones vanish in broad daylight. They had no choice but to collude with the Khirsonians, most of whom stayed neutral and uninvolved. Both Noir and the author agreed that they were wisest among all. Trains were assaulted in those final years, based on ethnicity; revenge was served with a frosty brutality. Heads were placed like props in the Svardia of old, decorating the streets as if it were an ancient ritual. The gang wars ended with a cruel trademark stamped into history—one that Noir hadn't ever heard of in textbooks. It was an image of babies crawling on their knees as men and women with hopelessness written all over their faces walked towards a certain hope. Noir closed his eyes, placed his palms over his eyes, and sighed.

How tragic was it for man to live only to survive, only to be dead inside when they did? Urkan Majedi did see a certain beauty in it all in retrospect. According to him, destiny had led him to where he was now; it led him to have a beautiful family now, and it led him to share his experiences with the world.

But Noir... he saw no beauty in it.

It is because you have suffered. It is because you need to justify everything that you suffered through; otherwise there would be no point to your existence. I can see the reasons for your conclusion, and in no way are you wrong, but destiny is nothing but a mechanism through which the broken cope. Destiny does exist, but only for two sets of people: those who are extremely grateful and those who need to be extremely grateful to live. And thus, I believe that it is nothing but a mental concoction. And if it truly does exist, I despise it with every morsel of my soul.

With such thoughts, Noir opened his eyes. He shut the book with a sigh. He rested his neck on the backrest as his gaze meandered around the ceiling above. Then, he thought of her face, hoping that destiny would walk by his side, lovingly, of course.