Tensions were rising, a pressure applied was felt all throughout the Creetus. Anxiety risen, stress and veins popping, as the calm was unsettling, yet any noise would make them flinch. Concentration at its fullest to the task, but no one would dare to say anything to break the superstition of the confidence they had in their victory. Otherwise overthinking would turn over into an overreaction of the otherwise onslaught of overly-anxious into oblivion, for not one soul wanted to waste this moment on anything other than preparation. Shivers, nausea, clenched jaw, a tingle in their hands and an icy feeling was coursing through them, as each moment felt like death himself was approaching with earth shaking steps. The most important day of their life was ahead.
The Giant man wouldn’t have wanted this outcome. He ran from war, now he is back to war, different sides, same ordeal. There was pointlessness and then there was war, which in his opinion was going further beyond pointlessness. Emperors, kings, senators, conquerors or conquered, was all the same for him. But the crime of killing those innocent, those that are just trying to live a normal life, those that have only defended themselves from hypocrites and monsters, that he could not forgive. Creetus must stand for something, creetus must be something more than another victim to those brutes. At least that was what The Giant was thinking. The oppression of greatness must be stopped, it’s nothing but infuriating. All these people living their lives, all these men that had a family that had to flee to safety. Did they really ask for any of this? Did they choose to be born in this? Curse those doing this to these pure men and women of this world. He continued mourning in his thoughts.
A child, alone, born between crossing shooting stars, in darkness brought by a nobody, taken in by an army. Grew up fighting, sword in hand, scar and all, a giant between children, yet not alone anymore. He had found someone just as tall and brave as him, like a twin brother, specially made for one another. Fist for fist, strike for strike, scream for scream, they were the best of their bunch. Inseparable, until the future Caesar had taken his brother into his custodial friendship, leaving him to his own arms. The excitement for the prospect of fighting along and under the command of his brother, was something unimaginable. War after war, won together. The legend of the Roman Empire was now growing, with them fighting to raise its glory to the highest peak possible. But a loss and an earth-shattering revelation of the Roman pillage woke up a hatred in him against all war and all that is the empire he helped build. He had become a villain to those helpless and innocent, he had become what he wish he wouldn’t have had. Thinking the Empire would help them grow towards beauty, like Rome was flourishing. Yet they were just slaves under the boot of a tyrant. Having faced his brother and the Caesar, he was thrown out. They had changed, and he was blind to their change.
Consider supporting on Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/RaulFO