Let’s recall war.

No other words are needed—it is simply enough to call it hell.

No matter where you walked, the traces of the dead were scattered everywhere. The clear waters of the valley had lost their color, tainted with blood.

The once-brilliant sky was stained crimson, and the towering walls of the fortress were cracked and shattered in disarray.

Those lingering in the streets all bore the same look—some were terror-stricken, while others seemed utterly drained, as if they had already surrendered everything.

There was no hope.

Their faces spoke that truth.

After all, that’s what war is.

There …