Beacon Fires, Crimson Soul

There is no System here, no transmigration, and no divine weapon falling from the sky.

There is no “god of war” who never misses a shot and can take on a hundred enemies alone.

This is a story about people of flesh and blood.

They may be deafened by shellfire, have their legs broken in a charge, or be burned until only half a belt remains.

They cannot win the war, or even guarantee they will see tomorrow,

yet amid the steel tide, they hold their ground, every inch of the land paid for in blood and bone.

I dedicate this book to the night skies once lit by the fires of war,

and remember those nameless people we never met, who died in our place.

The red spirit never dies; the land comes first.