Fury of the Betrayed

The streets burned with the fury of the betrayed. Across the great cities of Europe, once teeming with wealth and influence, the people had finally risen. For years, they had been fed lies—told that war was necessary, that the blood of their sons and daughters was the price of security, that the endless conflict would somehow bring prosperity. But war had brought nothing but ruin. The truth, once obscured by propaganda, now stood bare for all to see: the war had never been about safety or justice. It had been about power, control, and the greed of those who would never set foot on the battlefield.

The warmongers—politicians who lined their pockets with defense contracts, media moguls who spun tales of righteousness to justify slaughter, and corporate elites who thrived in the chaos—had overplayed their hand. They had underestimated the people’s capacity to endure hardship, to suffer, to lose everything—until there was nothing left to fear. And when a man has nothing left to lose, he becomes a force unstoppable.

The riots began as whispers in the dark, voices daring to question the narrative. Then came the marches, the protests, the strikes. When those were met with violence, the people answered in kind. Barricades rose in the streets, government buildings burned, and the police, once loyal enforcers of tyranny, began to desert their posts. The armies, stretched thin across foreign battlefields, could not return home fast enough to quell the tide. Even if they could, many had grown weary of fighting wars that served no cause but their masters’. The illusion of control shattered in a matter of weeks.

The governments fell one by one. The rulers, so assured in their invincibility, found themselves hunted, their palaces stormed by the very people they had dismissed as expendable. Some tried to flee, boarding private jets bound for safe havens. Others sought to plead their case, insisting they had only done what was necessary. None of it mattered. The people had already passed their judgment.

And so, the great powers of Europe crumbled, not by the hands of foreign invaders, but by the rage of those they had deceived. The war machine, built on lies and greed, had finally turned on its masters. What came next was uncertain, but one truth remained: the era of endless war was over, and those who had profited from it would never rise again.