Worlds Worth Fighting For

Chapter One: An odd world

        Across the Multiverse, lies one of the most desolated and violent world called Lax. This world was corrupted by a prolonged conquest between two powerful factions: the Exusees and the Limax.

One, the Exusees, fought for the greater good for the world: it's peoples' hearts were pure and willing, determined to protect Lax. While the other, the Limax, fought only to conquer the whole world to their own domain: to desecrate Lax and maintain evil in the world. Their faces are the worst kind of ugly, as well as their spirits and hearts, more so that they showed no mercy in conquering. 

Since then, Lax was polluted by the spoils of an unholy war, and as it progresses, more and more Exusees have either perished, sided with the Limaxes, or gave away their positions as Warriors. Cowards. 

Daxx, he knew it was coming; the King of the Exusees couldn't hold their faction much longer. Currently, he desperately needed a miracle to push back the Limaxes from conquering their last sector. 

No, from conquering all of Lax. 

The King had lesser battalions, lesser armory, and equipment. He could not initiate another attack since his line of frontline generals were scarce; either deceased or corrupted by Limax leaders. Some unfortunate of them, were not fighting for their world anymore, which resulted in an immense retreat to a nearest Exusee hideout, further away from their "No Mans Land", where their faction could lay low for quite some time.  

As they settled in their new base, Daxx restlessly sat down in his metal stool in the Battle Room. His battle-damaged platinum armor scratching the surface of the stool whilst his one hand lay bruised on the large round table, and the other caressing and stroking his long dirtied blond beard.  Around the room were his last trusted King-Commanders, all dirtied and blooded up by the harsh back-draw. 

Daxx's close and trusted friend, Titus, stood just beside him, with his royal gold and white colored titanium armor that he wore askew, and his leather gloves colored with putrid green Limax blood. He waited for what the King had to say, crossing his battle-damaged crimson arms. All the other King-Commanders stood by, also not sitting down, waited impatiently for the King's orders. This impatient waiting made the deafening silence become too unpleasant for them to be there. Alas, the King spoke.

"Gentlemen, dare I say," sighed Daxx disappointedly. "It has come such a surprise to me, that our frontline defenses have faltered in such an instant." His mudded fingers tapped the surface of the rounded table irritatingly as he said those words. All of a sudden, he clapped his hands together, "What even happened out there?" His voice inclined angrily. 

But none in the room uttered anything.

"I am perplexed." The King of the Exusees retorted. "We have been fighting this unholy civil war for decades on end. And yet, such folly is it that none of my trusted King-Commanders have the guts to report to me." 

Again, no one said a word. It was then that an uncomfortable tension gripped the room hard, as if the whole Battle Room was caught red-handed.

Giving up on letting someone have the floor to speak up, Daxx defeatedly pointed to a certain King-Commander. "You, speak." He commanded sternly.

"My King!" In an instant, the King-Commander spoke up. He stood upright quickly, but nervously, which made his damaged helmet askew, 

"Sire, it is with deep regret, that our frontline infantry wasn't strong enough for a horde of Limaxes to come through our gates. Gatekeepers and infantry did all they could to perceive the contested battle, yet to no avail." 

While the King-Commander spoke, he was eyed by Titus, who had a disapproving stare towards him.

"Liar." Titus sneered under his breath. The reporting King-Commander caught his eye.