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WAR STORIES FROM SINDH: NOTES LEFT BY A TERRORIZED WARSA SOLDIER

On the sandy plains of Sindh, the Third Division was stationed along the right-hand flank of the Warsa army. It was there the troops bore witness to a terrible nightmare.

“Gwaaaaaaaaaghhh!!”

Their forces were being slaughtered by a single dark elf—Freya Familia’s first-tier adventurer, Hegni Ragnar.

Ordinarily, this elf was anxious, awkward, and neurotic, but when he activated his spell, Dáinsleif, Hegni transformed into an undisputed lord of the battlefield.

With a single lunge, he scattered dust into the air, and with one swing of his blade, he tore through the enemy ranks. The mere sight of him was so terrifying that even though the battle had only just begun, the morale of the Warsa army was plummeting.

Soldiers and mercenaries who had started the skirmish crying, “Wretched outsider! We shall show you the strength of the desert!” were now screaming and fleeing for their lives, desperate not to be caught in the calculated sights of their foe.

Amid all the chaos, Hegni thought to himself.


Even without the darkness, I am the darkness. This battle unfolds according to my every whim. Not a single soul shall know peace. Next, to the east…

Although his thought process was a little different while he was under the effect of his spell, Hegni was still the same person at his core. It was only for convenience that he used the name Dáinsleif to refer to his alter ego; in truth, the man’s superior tactical and strategic acumen aligned with Hegni’s own.

I shall offer their heads on plates, thus proving my loyalty to my lady. Then I shall be allowed to rest my head on her soft thighs. Thighs, thighs, thighs…

Unfortunately, this sometimes resulted in the wires getting a little crossed and Hegni’s and Dáinsleif’s thoughts becoming mixed.

“Give me your thighs. Let me offer up your thighs. My goddess’s thighs are not yours; they are mine.”

“AAAAAAAAAAAWHATTHEHELLISHESAYINGAAAA-AAAA!!!”

“Gah…shit! I took an arrow to the thigh!”

“Is that so? Then die.”

“Gaaaaaaaaaaagh!!”

In the end, most of the Third Division fell to lethal thigh wounds, and one record of the battle caused future archaeologists to scratch their heads.

It read, The nightmare of the desert came for our thighs.



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