The War Without an End

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The War Without an End

Before crowns shattered and kingdoms split, the world was already drowning in blood.

The elves and orcs weren't born as enemies. If you dig deep enough into the ancient archives, you’ll find stories of a time when the world was in balance—when mountain trails were open to everyone and councils were held under the stars rather than behind fortified walls. But peace is a delicate thing, and history shows just how quickly we can tear it apart.

It started with a single spark: a patch of land on the edge of the Praetorian forests. The elves saw a sanctuary of magic and memory; the orcs saw the stone and ore they needed just to stay alive. They stopped talking and started demanding. Eventually, the threats turned into a massacre.

That one battle became a wound that refused to scar over.

Elven arrows met orcish steel. Forests were reduced to ash, and the mountains began to echo with the rhythmic thrum of war drums. Both sides convinced themselves they were the heroes of the story, and they made sure their children believed it, too. Elven children grew up hearing stories of orcish monsters, while orcish children were taught that elves were nothing but liars who hid their cruelty behind pretty faces.

Centuries passed, and the war didn’t just continue—it calcified.

Kings rose and fell, but the grudge stayed the same. Treaties were just pieces of paper waiting to be ignored. Peace talks became setups for ambushes. Even when the front lines were quiet, the hatred lived on in the songs they sang and the scars they carried. Eventually, the war didn’t even need a reason anymore. It just existed because it was always there.

The elves became cold and elitist, convinced they were the only ones left who were "pure." The orcs became hard and unyielding, believing that mercy was a death sentence. Neither side realized that the war had turned them into mirrors of each other.

By the time leaders like WengSmith and OverPower took command, no one even thought to ask why they were fighting. War was a tradition. The feud was the law. To hate the other side was simply what it meant to belong.

The world gave up on the idea of peace.

But there’s a whisper of a different truth buried under all thos

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