The Eden of Three Brothers - Chapter 3
3. The Weight of Emptiness
He—no, I—was a 12-year-old commander. The general placed my name at the vanguard. A position meant for death.
I stood in the heart of the battle on horseback. No one taught me how to fight. There were only those waiting for me to die.
But I had a reason to live. Only by enduring here could my younger brother's safety be guaranteed. I came knowing it was a place to die, but I couldn't die easily. My shoulders also carried my brother's life.
Back then, I didn't know war. I was a boy who knew neither death nor pain. I only knew that humans died if their heads were cut off. Wielding an unwieldy longsword, I swung at an enemy of similar size. The trembling young commander's face was splattered with red blood.
Unlike soft flesh, bone was dull. The sword caught on the neck bone, preventing a clean cut. Like chopping wood with an axe, I struck the neck several times with the blunt blade.
"Ggh, gk, h..."
Human life was tougher than expected, not easily severed. I had neither strength nor skill. Eyes overflowing with hatred glared from faces red with blood. Even when I finally ended his life, those eyes remained alive, scornfully watching me.
'Why do you hate me?'
I heard scattering blood droplets and dying breaths. Friend and foe tangled together, cursing maliciously.
I approached an enemy soldier who had panicked, covering his head and crouching.
"Ahhh! No! No!"
The lips that had screamed noisily twisted grotesquely before falling silent. My hand trembled at the gradually fading breaths. Dead. Was he dead? What was death, to be controlled so emptily?
That day, I killed two. I couldn't kill more.
The general occasionally gave speeches about why we must wield swords. Fight for honorable, lofty glory, for our king.
Nowhere was there a reason for the war. I wanted to know the reason. To know, I had to keep surviving. I killed and killed again.
As I killed, those around me also crumbled. The child who shared his rice ball with me, the one who particularly followed me, the young soldier who trembled constantly even back at camp. We didn't know each other's names. We were soldiers and commander.
The younger they were, the faster they were sacrificed. At 12 years old, I was the only one who survived.
One year, two years. Twenty years passed. I replaced the dead general. Like him, I drove newly conscripted boys into war. Protecting the young meant the older died, sometimes causing greater losses. Someone always died. No matter what.
I grew up drinking human blood. I ate and slept on land red with blood. Meals were often interrupted, and I didn't even expect comfortable sleep.
One day, the war ended. A few young ones cheered joyfully. I smiled a little too.
Waving the red flag I first saw as a child, I returned to the castle. I could go home for the first time in ages.
"You've worked hard."
My uncle greeted me, surrounded by numerous cousins. They varied in age, showing how many children he had produced. But the face that should have been beside them wasn't visible. No—was I just not recognizing him? I couldn't recall my brother's face or name.
"...Where is my brother?"
My status had changed. I didn't need to use honorifics with a mere lord.
"That child died of illness."
My uncle frowned, perhaps offended, and spat out the words.
"I see... Children die easily."
"Right. You managed to survive."
I felt nothing at his mocking tone. Being driven to the battlefield by my uncle's threat to send my brother away if I didn't go, the promise that I could see him if I survived—all faded away.
Strangely, I wasn't sad. No tears fell. I had become too accustomed to death.
"And it was all for you. You've even forgotten how to cry for your own sake."
I placed a single flower on the small grave of the one I couldn't mourn. How young did he die to have such a small grave? I wanted to cover it with flowers. So I piled flowers high. I did so daily to keep them from wilting.
At a banquet once, the king, eating greasy meat, boastfully offered to grant a wish in recognition of my contributions.
"I want to know the reason for the war."
The banquet hall grew cold. The king's strategist screamed that questioning the king's intent was treason and I should be punished. That was nothing. What shocked me was the king's bewildered face. He seemed not to know the reason himself.
"Don't you remember? After sacrificing so many lives..."
"You wretch! How dare you spout such nonsense!"
My uncle jumped up and shouted. Like hyenas scenting prey they didn't catch themselves, they seized the opportunity.
"Your Majesty! You must execute that traitor immediately!"
The hyenas multiplied. Ah. So that was it. The younger they were, the more they were driven to war for rotten reasons. Like my uncle who took my father's position over me, the legitimate heir.
The noisy commotion was irritating. I knew. My brother didn't die of illness—he died by my uncle's hand.
Yet I did nothing because of the many children attached to my uncle. Their hopeful eyes were no different from my young brother's.
'You are not guilty. But neither was my brother.'
As I offered flowers at his grave, I asked. Must I kill more humans? Must I repeat that hell again?
'My brother. I will follow you. When we meet in death, take your revenge on me then.'
I was tired. I thought it didn't matter what happened anymore. I didn't know what more I should do.
"General! Commander!"
I wanted to rest. Please, just be quiet. My heavy eyelids trembled at the voices calling me.
'You still want to live.'
Sharing hardship and joy. We had shared pain and pleasure. I couldn't abandon them now, like brothers-in-arms.
I picked up my sword. Having taken countless lives, it felt heavy and cold. With hands now skilled at killing, I severed the king's head. Thwack! Blood droplets sprayed. I beheaded my uncle as he turned to flee. The head drenched in blood was doused in kin's blood. Children's screams drowned in the bloodbath.
I became a rebel, and the war began again. I saw others growing weary of the loathsome smell of blood.
Was this hell again?
I anticipated the end. I pretended not to notice the subordinate poisoning my cup. The one who owed me his life several times over.
"The general must die for everything to end!"
Poisoned and weakened, I was imprisoned. Torture and punishment poured down. I didn't bite my tongue or kill myself because I wanted to see one last thing before dying.
"Die! Die!"
Execution day. When the new king asked if I had any last words, I quietly shook my head. I saw familiar faces awaiting my death. I busily searched for known faces like lingering attachments.
My cousins looking at me with hatred. My subordinates who grew up with me...
I hoped many had joined that fellow. The more, the more would survive.
But among the well-dressed, none were generals who had endured the battlefield. I saw heads displayed on the castle walls before mine. The child who poisoned me was among them.
Discarded like trash. The new king showed no mercy to the murderers who had crossed hell.
"Ahhh!"
Only then did I shake with rage, resenting the king for the first time. I grunted like a pig. I was screaming. Look. Look at those you killed.
I gave twenty years. From my brilliant teens to barely reaching thirty, fighting to the death. Wasn't I still young? Too young to die? If the reward for twenty years was being remembered as a traitor, wasn't human death too miserable?
Let my head fall. Bury me properly. You don't have to recognize my achievements, but let my final moment be peaceful.
I shook off the guards restraining me and stood. The rope snapped, freeing my arms. I rushed out, drawing a sword from a guard's waist. With it, I killed the innocent guard and pointed the tip at the new king.
"Kyaaah!"
People watching screamed at the sudden riot. The square became chaos with fleeing people. My youngest cousin fell while running. People trampled his small body.
It was the hell I created.
"......"
The sword fell from my loosened grip. The king, protected by guards, shouted with a pale face.
"Execute the traitor!"
The sound of my head falling, breath severing, echoed. A familiar death.
Brother... I can't even bring flowers to your grave now.
You will be in beautiful heaven, while I fall into a hell pit.
Feeling nothing, it was emptiness again.
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