In the middle of a graveyard of flaming war vessels, a frail young man laid on a ship minutes away from sinking under the water, cackling to himself like a madman.
The youth couldn't help but laugh. They were out in the middle of an ocean, and yet every soldier around him was about to burn to death. The bitter irony was simply too funny.
He was still laughing as another ball of fire flew overhead, striking the hull of his ship and sending a pack of soldiers flying.
The youth sat up, shaking his head. His motley brown hair flopped down over his face - he had neglected to cut it before setting sail, and it looked like he may never get the chance.
'One hell of a first mission.' he thought to himself.
He was just a rookie, and not even a good one at that. He was an orphan who joined the fight because he had nowhere else to go, a gutter rat who had long since lost his family and never had many friends to speak of. This young man was Albion, although he would never answer to the name. He thought it far too noble for a person of his standing - that's why he usually only responded to Alby.
Alby thought he had finally caught a stroke of luck, getting a chance to join the army. The Country suddenly found itself embroiled in a war against The Empire, a bloody, cataclysmic affair between the last two bastions of humanity. As Alby understood it, his homeland was in dire need of manpower - so dire that they were willing to train up gutter rats like him as new recruits.
Of course, it was hard to call what Alby went through training - it was more like raising pigs for slaughter. How long had it been since he joined the war? A month? Maybe less? And there he was, on the frontlines of a massive naval battle, right alongside the other fresh recruits. They weren't soldiers; they were glorified meat shields. Even Alby could see that, and he was hardly a tactical genius.
None of this came as a shock to him, however - in fact, he welcomed it. He was ready to die.
Alby's thinking was that joining the war effort presented nothing but upside for him. It gave him regular access to food and a place to sleep, and even gave him a chance to earn a title for himself if he did well enough. Even the risk of death wasn't a downside - at least it meant his miserable life would finally come to an end.
With great difficulty, he managed to get to his feet on the uneven surface of the boat. His malnourished body already had a hard time supporting itself as is, so the added challenge of the slowly sinking ship was not appreciated. He once again found himself silently lamenting that the Country hadn't seen fit to give him and his fellow recruits proper rations. After all, that was supposed to be one of the main perks of joining this war in the first place.
'I should get going.' Alby thought.
He needed to find a way to make it to another vessel. He may have been ready to die, but that didn't mean that he needed to throw his life away. He looked around, surveying the battle raging around him. He immediately saw a problem - most of the friendly ships surrounding him were in a similarly rough shape.
He stood there on the swaying deck, thinking for a moment. It was likely the other ships in his fleet would go down any minute - some were under the water already. That left only one choiceleft for escape.
The enemy ships.
Of course, something reckless like jumping onboard and taking over the besieging ships was out of the question - Alby would be dead the second he tried to step onboard.
But that didn't mean he was out of options.
Alby began making his way towards the front of the ship. As he did so, he bumped into the ship's commander. He was a handsome man with wavy black hair and a chiseled face, just a few years older than Alby. He had light stubble and was decorated in a beautiful set of dark armor engraved with a golden trim. An absurd amount of weapons adorned his belt, clattering as he turned this way and that. He was trying in vain to rally the damned soldiers for a counterattack.
The commander turned to look at Alby as he meekly made his way past.
"What are you doing, soldier? Get in line!" he shouted.
Alby ignored him and walked straight to the bow of the ship. He stood as tall as his frail, underdeveloped body could muster, raising his sword as high as he could....
And flung the weapon into the ocean.
He then proceeded to wave his hands wildly in the air.
"WE SURRENDER!" he screamed. "WE SURRENDER!"
The commander stared at him for a moment, mouth agape at the brazen act of cowardice. He quickly collected himself and made his way up to Alby, pulling at his arm to drag him back.
"Get down, boy! Are you insane?"
Alby ignored him, continuing to scream and flail his hands as best he could while being restrained.
He knew how he looked, but he didn't care. He realized that his best chance to make it out of this was to get taken prisoner by the enemy. With any luck, he would at least live a few more days before they realized he offered little to no value as a hostage. The people that actually mattered on his side had no idea he existed, let alone cared enough to save him.
Hell, maybe the enemies would even let him serve in their army. If it meant comfortable living, Alby's loyalties could easily be won over.
The commander continued to try and pull him away, but it was too late. The message had been sent. A number of soldiers on the boat across from Alby had already stopped to watch his frantic show. After a moment of stunned stares - and a few amused ones - one of the soldiers turned around and ran back into the barracks of his ship.
Alby and his commander both stood motionless as a towering figure crested the edge of the opposing ship moments later. He was shirtless, with black hair cascading over his back. A wispy beard did nothing to take away from the man's massive, imposing presence - aided by the inhumanely large mace slung over his shoulder.
The very world seemed to fall silent at the sight of the man. It wasn't until the commander spoke that the spell of that silence was broken, and the reality of their situation settled in.
"The Adept..." he murmured.
The mere mention of the word made cold sweat bead on Alby's neck.
The hulking man stopped for a moment, his dark, beady eyes staring daggers straight through Alby. His gaze shifted, and he then locked eyes with the commander. An unfamiliar emotion seemed to light up in the titan's eye, but it passed as quickly as it came.
The commander shook his head slightly in a small but desperate plea.
"Why now?" he muttered. "It wasn't supposed to be like this. It's too soon, dammit…"
Alby barely registered his superior's words, distracted by the beast in front of him, terrified of what he might do. The hulking man stared at the commander for a second longer, and then he slowly raised his hand in the air. A moment later, the atmosphere seemed to come alive with heat as a flame swirled and folded upon itself on his outstretched hand. It was as if a miniature sun suddenly bloomed right in front of Alby's eyes.
The giant let the star dance on his hand, cocking his head to the side as he stared at it, admiring his work. Then, he threw his hand forward and sent the blazing inferno barreling straight towards Alby's ship.
So much for joining the enemy army.
The world was suddenly ablaze one moment, and the next it ceased to exist.