By: A Confused Yet Decorated Nuradeen

Eclesiar, Day 199 — It was the third day of my service. I was still figuring out how to equip a helmet properly without wearing it backward. Suddenly, at around 3:30 AM Malaysian time, while most warriors were asleep (or grinding XP in other games), I received an order from my commander.

“Attack Suez… but make sure to LOSE the battle.”



That was it. No clarification. No footnotes. Just a classic ‘win by losing’ strategy. As an obedient Saudi patriot and slightly sleepy soldier, I didn’t ask questions. I suited up.

Round 3 Begins:



Fueled by teh tarik and blind faith, I charged into Suez like a Salamander Space Marine on a mission. I unleashed damage like Rambo with WiFi. My pew-pews echoed through the empty battlefield, or at least, they echoed in my head. According to witnesses, the battle sounded more like a squirrel chewing bubble wrap.

Only after a few glorious minutes of solo combat did I realize...
Saudi Arabia was winning.
I was Saudi Arabia.
I was not supposed to win.
Cue the tactical retreat.



I sprinted across the digital no-man’s-land, jumped over imaginary barbed wire, and dove into the Egypt trench like a true double agent. I started pew-pewing at my former comrades, who didn’t exist because surprise, I was still the only one fighting in the war.

As the round came to an end:
I was out of ammo, starving, and questioning my nationality.
But then… I looked at the stats.
I was the top damage dealer on both sides.
That’s right. Nuradeen of Arabia AND Nuradeen of Egypt.
I was about to be double decorated.

Enter aduch.
From the shadows of the Saudi trench appeared another warrior. He rained damage like John Wick in a budget cosplay. He overtook me as the Saudi Hero.
My dreams of Battle Hero x2 began to fade…

But then, like a true gentleman of war, he stopped.
He stopped just short of overtaking me on the Egyptian side.
Whether out of mercy, respect, or sheer confusion — I will never know.
But that act saved my Battle Hero medal.

I salute you, aduch.
A plaque will be installed in my virtual bedroom that reads:

"Here stood the man who could have stolen both my medals, but only took one. May his pew-pews forever echo in our hearts."

50 years from now…
I’ll be sitting on a holographic rocking chair, sipping space-teh tarik, surrounded by my grandchildren. One of them will ask:

> “Grandpapa Nuradeen, what were you like when you were a baby?”

I’ll take a long pause, look off into the digital sunset, and say:

> “When I was just three days old… I became a Battle Hero.”

Mic drop. Trench closed. Pew pew.