(Leo's POV)
Until now, Leo had never fought a war out of personal grudges. Terra Nova Online had always been a fresh start for him, a place free from the baggage of real-world rivalries or deep hatred.
However, that changed the day his brother, Luke, was disrespected and betrayed by his own guild, The DarkSky.
Cervantez had always been there, a constant rival since Leo's early gaming days. They weren't friends—Leo couldn't say he liked him much on a personal level—but he'd respected Cervantez for one thing: the way he'd helped Luke when no one else would. For that alone, Leo had held him in some regard.
But when it truly mattered, when a decisive guild vote could have changed everything, Cervantez turned his back. He didn't stand by Luke. He didn't even try.
That moment shattered whatever respect Leo had for him. It was the first time Leo felt a bitterness creeping into the game world, a resentment that sat heavy in his chest and refused to leave.
And hence for the first time ever…. It was personal.
By all means right now, after having killed the Emperor, he should have directed his energies towards capturing the throne of StrongHaven and to become the first ever player Emperor within the game, however, Leo decided not to do that.
Instead, he decided to go west and enter the only righteous faction zone still left within the game and risk his life once more just to prove a point.
This time, he wasn't going there to achieve a purpose, this time he was just going to war for the sake of war, as his only goal was to annihilate and humiliate the DarkSky forces.
He wanted to just show Cervantez that disrespecting his brother was the worst decision he ever made as a guildmaster, and that it would be a decision that Leo would never let him recover from.
It was a decision driven by pure hatred and an equally strong desire to humiliate and emancipate that drove Leo to the West, as this time he was just going to bully the weak, with the only intent of bullying them.
*********
(Meanwhile, in the West, the Whitesabers)
The Whitesabers were never informed about 'TheBoss' heading over personally to help them in the war effort, and hence they prepared like they were fighting without him.
The atmosphere in the guild when the guildmaster announced that the guild would be taking one decisive stand to hopefully win this war, was quite grim, as the tactic exclaimed a lack of confidence and desperation.
Throughout the various WhiteSaber camps and settlements, the news spread like a chilling wind. For many rank-and-file members, it was as if they could feel the weight of their failures pressing down on them, as whispers began floating through the ranks:
"This is it, huh? If we lose this fight, we're done…"
"Pulling back from every front just to hit one city? It's like we're cornered rats…"
Still, no one dared question the guildmaster's orders aloud. For all their doubts and fears, the Whitesabers were a disciplined force. Orders were orders, and every soldier understood that their next battle could define the guild's future.
Meanwhile, to maintain control over the guild's waning morale, the guildmaster ensured that no one lingered too long in thought.
Messengers and officers barked orders from dawn to dusk, their relentless pace leaving little room for doubts to fester.
"Pack up the forward camps immediately!" barked a squad leader as soldiers scrambled to tear down tents and gather supplies. "We will march for Bernabeu in two days!"
Another officer shouted to a group of mages. "You there! Reinforce the barricades as we pull out. We're not leaving these positions open for DarkSky to exploit!"
Weapons were sharpened. Supplies were rationed. Battle standards were dusted off and raised high, the white saber insignia fluttering defiantly in the wind. The guild's elite forces were pulled back from every other battlefield—Coventry, the villages on the outskirts, even minor sieges—leaving behind ghost towns and empty trenches. Every available soldier was marching toward a singular purpose: Bernabeu.
********
(2 days later)
When the day to march finally came, the scene that unfolded before one was both awe-inspiring and unsettling.
The WhiteSaber army marched as one, thousands of boots pounding in unison against the dirt roads. Unit after unit fell into line, banners flying high above their heads, as from infantry to cavalry, mages to siege engineers, every guild member joined the march.
As they passed through former strongholds and abandoned camps that the army once captured, the scale of the regrouping effort became clear.
Entire battlefields lay eerily empty, with only the smoldering remnants of fires and broken barricades left behind, to show that there used to be a massive army camp here once.
However, apart from the boot marks and ash scorched Earth, there was nothing else left to show that there might have been a massive army stationed here just a day ago.
"The whole WhiteSaber has assembled…," a DarkSky scout reported to his Cervantez as he observed the piling army.
"No stragglers. They're leaving nothing behind."
At the head of the army, the guildmaster rode silently, his expression set in stone as he scanned the horizon.
Bernabeu loomed far to the west, a city that now represented both their greatest challenge and their last hope for victory.
For the Whitesabers, there was no turning back now, the march to Bernabeu had begun, and with it came the weight of every failure, every loss, and every bitter lesson learned over the past fourteen days.
Victory or annihilation awaited them, and none could say which outcome was going to unfold.
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///A/N - Hey guys! So today was the WSA award ceremony, and Terra Nova Online won the bronze prize thanks to all of your love and support.
It's truly been a humbling experience, and to see this work receive such recognition on a global stage was heartwarming.
I'll drop a photo of the trophy in the comments below…. That one is for all of us!
Because I wouldn't have won anything without your votes, comments and love. ///