Zvinyorwa zvakabatanidzwa

In the cold shadow of the battlefield, Alaric stood—surrounded by the clash of steel, the cries of his soldiers, and the relentless storm of arrows. Each swing of his sword was a desperate bid to hold back the tide, but every step forward was paid for in blood. Men fell beside him, their faces etched with fear and fierce determination, their lives extinguished beneath banners that would soon fade into silence. Alaric fought not just for victory, but for everything he believed in: the hopes of hi