For what reason do we spill blood?
For what reason to we lift our blades to wage war endlessly?
Even in death, our souls are like the carrion birds of the battlefield, fighting over the scraps of death, even until we die a second time.
So then, why do we bathe in the endless tide of red?
"It is for naught, but to satisfy our own hubris, of course." Brahm, the Battle Monarch of Blood said to the endless darkness that forever filled the skies of the Thousand Heavens.
Of course, the darkness was not sentient, so it did not have an answer for him.
Eyes more crimson than freshly split blood, Brahm looked down.
Below him, the land was awash with endless chaos.
A battle field that had existed since the beginning of time itself.
A world of carnage.
That was the nature of the Thousand Heavens.
Numerous warlords had come before him, each one of them now a smoldering corpses buried beneath enormous mountains of metal, flesh and bones.
