In Mesopotamia,
during the age of the Akkadian Empire… the first empire in history,
there stood a small city,
surrounded by towering walls like rocky hills.
It was home to three races:
Orcs,
Dwarves,
and Elves.
The city was divided into three concentric rings,
each race living within its own circle.
At the center lay the shared district—
the heart of the city.
Great structures rose there,
like small stone plateaus.
In the streets,
monster children laughed and ran,
chasing birds with innocent joy.
The market was crowded… thriving with life.
An elf—tall, with violet eyes and gray hair—murmured with amusement:
"Prosperity has come to our kingdom…
Through unity, we flourished.
After separating from Sargon,
our trade with the uncivilized human nomads grew…
and we became an independent trade hub."
An orc with braided hair nodded confidently:
"Yes… after taking the cuneiform tablets and leaving,
we built a civilization of our own."
A dwarf smirked arrogantly:
"Isn't it beautiful?
We are monsters… yet we built a civilization,
in a world where human civilizations are few…
and now, we even keep northern humans as slaves."
The three leaders laughed,
as if they owned the world.
—
On a distant hill,
a young man stood watching.
A golden helmet crowned his head,
long brown hair flowing behind him,
a lion-skin cloak draped over his shoulders.
His gaze was cold…
merciless…
like a sentence of death.
His eyes gleamed with something dangerous—
as if, should he wish it,
he could turn the city upside down…
and make its people beg for death.
He exhaled quietly,
and turned to leave—
"Not even a greeting for your dear uncle, Naram?"
He stopped.
Turned.
And his coldness shattered instantly.
"Uncle!"
He rushed forward and embraced him:
"How did you get here after what happened to you?"
The man laughed—long black hair, braided beard—and said playfully:
"I have my ways… as you know, adults have their own paths."
Naram rolled his eyes:
"Even the old ones."
The man narrowed his eyes:
"Old? I'm only fifteen years older than you, you brat!
You're barely twenty-two—hardly grown."
Naram smirked:
"That's a lot of talk for a retired emperor… Uncle Rimush."
Rimush scoffed:
"At least I don't stand here staring at a city of monsters like a fool."
Naram's smile faded.
He sighed, then said calmly:
"I want to conquer them."
Rimush studied him, then spoke:
"Conquer them?
Do you even understand what conquest means?
The lives you'll take…
the families you'll shatter…
the cost to the empire?"
He paused… then added:
"But they stole our legacy… didn't they?"
He rolled his eyes:
"Always the same excuse.
Your father is a wise king…
he chose peace after the rivers of blood your grandfather and I left behind."
Then he stepped closer, voice lowering:
"If you truly want to conquer them…
do not destroy the peace your father built with great effort."
A brief silence.
Then a faint smile:
"You'll have to conquer the land of monsters yourself…
Demi-god