Rebuilding Terra

The wind roared like a wild beast between heaven and earth. Ozma took a deep breath, which seemed to carry endless heaviness and entanglement. His brows were slightly furrowed, and all kinds of complicated emotions kept rolling in his heart. He walked slowly towards Kazan with heavy steps as if filled with lead. In the distance, the dilapidated cave stood quietly between heaven and earth like an old man who had experienced vicissitudes of life. The walls of the cave were covered with mottled marks, as if silently telling the baptism of countless wars and storms that had been experienced.

Kazan stood motionless in front of the cave, the armor he was wearing still gleaming with a cold metallic light in the dim light. Every scratch and dent on the armor was a medal of honor left by him in fierce battles. He held the heavy battle axe tightly in his hand, and the axe blade emitted a chilling cold light in the wind, as if he could cut off everything in the world with just a slight swing.

In his eyes, doubts were like diffuse mist, and vigilance was like an indestructible wall. Once, they were brothers who shared life and death, fought side by side in countless thrilling battles, and jointly guarded this land full of mystery and fantasy. They supported each other in the bloody storm, gave each other strength in darkness and despair, and faced countless powerful enemies together. However, the wheel of fate turned mercilessly, and now, they were like two chess pieces teased by fate, unexpectedly standing on opposite sides.

Ozma finally came to Kazan, his eyes fixed on Kazan's face that was too familiar to be more familiar. Every contour and every subtle expression on that face had been with him for countless days and nights, and they had experienced the ups and downs together. But at this moment, he still didn't want to believe that this brother who had depended on him for life and death would betray the demon king.

He slowly opened his mouth, his voice trembling slightly in the wind, every word seemed to carry endless helplessness and heartache, his face was full of struggle and pain: "Kazan, I don't want to be your enemy, but if you want to rebel, then we can only fight each other." His voice was like fallen leaves blown away by the wind, floating in the empty sky and earth, with deep struggle and pain.

Kazan's eyes widened with disbelief, his mouth slightly opened, as if he wanted to refute loudly. His eyes were like two burning flames, full of anger and confusion. His voice was like a huge bell, reverberating violently in the air, and every note was full of strong emotion: "Nonsense, Ozma, you are my best friend, how can you believe this." His voice seemed to break through the sky, breaking this absurd misunderstanding, and his face was full of anger at being wronged and disappointment in Ozma's distrust.

Ozma took a deep breath, trying to suppress the surging emotions in his heart, trying to keep himself calm. He slowly spoke again and continued to persuade: "In this case, you come back with me, and we will explain the whole story to the demon king. I believe the demon king will believe you." His eyes were full of expectations, and that expectation was like a bright star. His expression was extremely sincere. He hoped that Kazan could listen to his advice and work together to resolve this tangled misunderstanding.

However, Kazan frowned slightly, and the wrinkles seemed like the marks of time and the marks of the tangled heart. He pondered for a moment, and in this moment, countless thoughts rolled in his mind like a surging tide. He secretly pondered the attitude of the demon king and the possible consequences he might face. Finally, he realized that something was wrong.

He raised his head, his eyes met Ozma's again, and he said slowly: "I have a large army and have made great achievements, but I am afraid that this poses a threat to the rule of the Demon King. If I go back, I will surely die." His voice was low and powerful, and every word seemed to carry a deep helplessness, like a sigh as if a huge rock was pressing down on his heart. His face revealed a trace of bitterness and helplessness about the situation.

Ozma was stunned. He had never expected Kazan to have such an idea. His mind was blank for a moment, and then countless thoughts came to his mind. He tried to persuade Kazan again, and he said anxiously: "No, Kazan, we will face it together and we will definitely be able to solve it." But Kazan shook his head firmly, and the shaking of his head seemed to be an insurmountable barrier. He firmly stated that he would not go back, and his eyes revealed his determination and disagreement with Ozma's naive idea.

The peace talks failed, and the atmosphere between the two men suddenly became tense, as if the air had solidified into substance. They stared at each other, their eyes filled with complex and indescribable emotions. There was the brotherhood of the past, the helplessness and struggle of today, the misunderstanding of each other, and the unwillingness to accept fate. The wind seemed to have sensed this tense atmosphere and blew even harder. The howling wind made their clothes rustle, as if it was also sighing for their fate.

Finally, the two had to fight with swords in this irreconcilable contradiction and misunderstanding. Ozma waved the staff in his hand, and the staff seemed to be endowed with mysterious power. The staff flashed with mysterious light, and the magic power was like a smart ribbon interweaving in the air. His eyes were focused and firm, but his heart was full of helplessness and reluctance. Kazan held the battle axe tightly, and the battle axe streaked through the air with dazzling light, which was like lightning, rushing towards Ozma with incomparable power. The flame of battle burned in his eyes, but also hid a trace of pain for the fratricide.

They fought fiercely on the battlefield, and every move was full of strength and skill. Ozma cast a fire spell, and the flames burned fiercely in the air, as if to devour everything. The flames were like ferocious beasts, pouncing on Kazan with bared fangs and claws. There was a trace of determination on his face, although he didn't want to hurt Kazan in his heart.

Kazan was not afraid. He split the flames with his battle axe, which was like a sharp blade, splitting the flames in two. He continued to rush forward, his steps firm and powerful. Their figures crossed on the battlefield, as fast as lightning, as if two lightning bolts were colliding fiercely, emitting bursts of dazzling light.

Just as the two were fighting, a demon army suddenly appeared like a ghost. They moved quickly, and their footsteps sounded like thunder on the ground. The army quickly surrounded them. The leader rode on a tall warhorse, looking majestic. He shouted: "The demon king has ordered that Ozma and Kazan are plotting a rebellion. Capture them." His voice was majestic and cold, like ice, exuding a chilling atmosphere in the air.

Ozma's eyes widened, his heart filled with shock. He couldn't believe his ears, and he shouted, "Wait, there must be some misunderstanding." His voice echoed in the wind, with anxiety and unwillingness. He tried to rush over to find the leader to explain, but the demon soldiers were like a solid wall, quickly stopping him. His face was full of anxiety and anger at the truth being covered up.

Kazan, who was bound by his hands and feet, suddenly laughed, his laughter full of helplessness and ridicule. He looked at Ozma in bewilderment and said slowly, "Don't you understand yet, my friend?" There was a hint of bitterness and disappointment in his voice. His face showed an expression of seeing through everything, as if he had expected all this.

After the two were escorted back to Beijing, the grassland that had witnessed their friendship and battles seemed to have lost its former vitality. The demon king ordered the grassland to be renamed, and from then on it was called the Betrayer Plain.

The grassland that was once green and full of life now seems to be shrouded in a layer of haze. The wind still blows on the grassland, but the sound of the wind seems to carry endless sighs and sorrows. Every blade of grass and every flower seems to be silently telling this regrettable story. The name "Betrayer Plain" is like a heavy yoke, pressing on the hearts of everyone who knows their story, and also on this land that was once full of hope and glory.