It was the year 2433 when the North Koreans discovered power. Not just any power, the ultimate power. It was made of all of the elements in the world, mixed together, Water. Fire. Earth. Air. Metal. Electricity. Phenomena. Energy. Light. Darkness. Life. And Death, all made into an energy, it was to special to lose. Irreplaceable, as the scientists who had looked at it had said. It was a source of power so valuable, it was kept in a top-secret laboratory on the outskirts of Pyongyang, guarded, and kept in a glass tube, being watched and examined twenty-four-seven. But in 2439, the power went missing, or as the North Koreans said, was stolen. The North Koreans were shocked. Their ultimate source of energy. Stolen. Gone. No one in the whole, entire world knew of this. So how had it been stolen?

The North Koreans had immediately accused the South Koreans, them being their closest neighbor. The North Koreans attacked without warning, right in the heart of the capital, Seoul. Seoul, the place where the most people lived. Millions died. Millions surrendered and were taken. Ever since, they have been at war. Most of the South Koreans were captured and taken to the dungeons. Both the countries were shattered. Wrecked, and in ruins. After the attack on Seoul, Kim Jong-sun ordered his soldiers into the surrounding areas, and soon, the rest of the country. The South Koreans weren't unprepared. So they fought back. The countries have fought for over 32 years, dragging the rest of the globe into it, and still, in 2471, the North Koreans have still not let it go.

Kim Ryeowook, a sixteen year old boy, was not new to war. Born in the heart of it, Kim Ryeowook was born in 2455 21st June. He was born in Incheon, a surrounding suburb of Seoul. But Incheon was lucky, skipping the suburb as part of Seoul itself, and passing it off. But now, in 2471, the new leader of North Korea, Kim Jong-shik, finally discovered the truth of Incheon, and the North Koreans were out for blood. 

Ryeowook knew all about war. He knew how to use an array of weapons. And was taught how to turn even the simplest items, everyday items, into devastating items of war. He was called the Eternal Maknae, although, if you looked deep enough, in his eyes you could see the desperate look of freedom.

On the 28th of March, 2471, the North Koreans struck, invading the city, and for fifteen grueling days, there was massacre, pure bloodshed. Ryeowook escaped, his mother pushing him out the door along with his younger sister, aged twelve, and some supplies, safely packed in a single rucksack, his father already dead, killed by the heartless soldiers.

They managed to get halfway to the borderline, before his little sister, Hei-ryung, had turned back for their mother, telling Ryeowook if he made it, he was to live a life fit for the all of them. His mother, his father, Hei-ryung, and, last but not least, himself. Ryeowook watched his younger sister run off into the war zone, the billowing clouds of dust and smoke obscuring her body quickly. Ryeowook could just see her brown hair, whipping in the wind. Hei-ryung, his little sister, the last of his family, gone.

Finally realizing he was standing in the middle of a full-frontal war zone, he started heading to the borderline again, straight to Seoul. The used-to-be capital, now abandoned. The empty city would give him cover. Shelter. Somewhere he could be safe. Somewhere to escape to. 

Ryeowook promised to fulfill his sister's last wish. He kept pushing himself to go. Run. Run. Run. Get to the finish, and never turn back. That was a line from his sister, she probably got it from a game of some sort, but it was that very line being the thing that urged him on right now. The borderline in his sight. Run. Run. Run. Keep going.

He ran through the ruined city, his home town destroyed before his very eyes, his friends he'd never see again. The city of Incheon, the city of 'Wise River'. Now a pile of destroyed buildings, and rubble. The tears started to cascade down his face, the extra dust and smoke not helping one bit. The tears reminded him of a river, and a river reminded him of his home. 

But Ryeowook ran anyways, his legs hurt and his eyes stung. He wailed. His desperate cry swallowed by the sound of the raging storm of bullet shells and shrapnel. 

Ryeowook couldn't breathe. The ground slapping under his well-worn shoes. The wind rushing through his hair. He just wanted to get away from it all. His heart pounded against his rib cage and he jumped. Just as the last and final bomb hit his home town of Incheon.

Run. Run. Run.

Ryeowook's legs burned, but his brain demanded him to go on, no matter how hard he wanted to stop. No matter how hard he wished to join his family, he couldn't. He had to fufill his sister's final wish, for him to live for the all of them. He got up, slowly rising to his feet, he started to run again.

Get to the finish line, and never turn back.

So Ryeowook ran on, panting as sweat trickled down his face, mingling with the tears. He ran on. And on. And on. Along the highway, to Seoul. 

And he's still running now.

This is no ordinary story; it's much more than that.

It's the story of the life of twelve boys.

This is the life in a war zone.

This is the story of the last and fifteenth cycle.

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Okay... Wow... Just checking back on some old work... Teehee...

This is friggin horrible...

But it's the best I got.

And I remember being really proud of it when I first wrote it...

So I'll respect that and keep it...

God, am I talking to myself???

Whatever, don't mind me, please enjoy~