“The DRA, that was what the invaders called themselves.” I said to my friends upon returning from the little meeting the city governor had with the strange men. They wore technological gear that was half black and half red. The DRA marched for blood, everyone said as the number of body bags rushing to reluctant widows increased. The DRA was definitely winning the battles, and surely the war. Everyday I watched my older friends recruit themselves and the instant they left the safety of the refugee camp, they were torn to pieces. The ships in the sky were destroying everything, shooting missiles, and magic blasts down upon the city.

I nearly found myself turned to mush under a piece of a building as Jaera shouted, “Kaino, we have to get out of here, this refugee camp is gonna go too!” These camps were made for the people without a heart or soul for more war, usually the old, the very young, the women, and the sick. An old man I could not recognize through the sickening smog from a recent missile drop fell under a piece of rock. Only when the smoke cleared did I see he was my father. I wiped my eyes to be rid of my tears, the DRA would pay for this...I swore, “I swear one day, when I get old enough, I'll join the military and fight you...you monsters!”

Jaera clasped my hand and led me away before I too met my end, he was the only one that meant anything now. He looked me in the eye, “Don't get that look in your eyes, that look says your gonna go get yourself burned to bits in the streets.” I cried again for my mother, who a couple Doom Patrollers took for their sick pleasure. One day, the DRA would pay. They were nothing more than an invading force who had been assaulting the whole region for 7 years. That was half of my life the DRA owed me.

As we ran for cover, smoke blasted in our faces and a ship docked on a decadent building and let out its torrent of demons. The Doom Patrollers were named as such by their victims, no one knew what their real name was. When people equated their appearance with death and loss, the name stuck with them. Rumor had it even their commanders called the unit the “Doom Patrollers”. Jaera and I ran for cover as a grappling hook slashed through the stomach of a few would be soldiers as the owners pulled the hooks back. Even Jaera, who was big for his age, was crying, and there was a loud explosion and i saw unspeakable horror. A group of men were literally blasted apart in all directions as a hideous monster approached.

He was little more than armor, black armor with blue lightning holding the armor together. I had heard much of the evils this one did. He walked over, a single sword striking an attacker that never even made a move. His fighting style seemed as if a dance of death, his hands were flamethrowers that shot boiling white fire. He was the legendary Zeltha V, who walks with Catastrophe.

Zeltha looked at me in the eye as he passed and visibly considered burning both of us. However, apparently he thought better. "Come with me, young man. You have a destiny that must be fulfilled...as a soldier."