“We must kill these heretics! Cut off their heads, skewer their skulls and burn their bodies in the pyre!” To his platoon, the commander shouted at the top of his lungs as if his order could have torn those non-believers alive.
This day has been long predicted in the sacred book among his people five thousand years ago. The Farseer has passed the message from the Higher Being to his chosen men and women – “we must spread the true words to the four directions of Earth, like a piece of cloth slowly becoming wet, be it milk of ourselves or blood of our enemies.” They fought the heretics using all sorts of top technology – bone clubs, iron axes, flintlocks, AK47 and now nuclear-powered armaments. Conflicts, battles and wars declared in his name were countless – the faith of humanity could not be wavered.
Looking across the battlefield, the commander spotted his adversary – his counterpart in the enemy, his nemesis in the cult. He was amazed by how the enemy has the finest equipment, and disappointed by how many men and women have fallen for the trick to believe in the evil thoughts propagated by the cult. We must either convert these lost souls to the right path, or cleanse them by wiping them off the surface of Earth. By these deeds, he thought, the world could be once again united.
“Charge!” In an almost raw and primitive roar, he moved his troops to clash with the other.
“BEEEP—–” The meter emitted a warning signal. A man in white lab coat looked up and sighed. He looked grumpy and frustrated, possibly due to long hours of work without any sleep.
“Another negative. When could I get my results and graduate from this bloody school!?” He took a petri dish on top of the meter and washed it under the tap. Two large patches of bacteria, each with different stain, were washed down to the drain and disappeared from his sight. Another culture to grow again, he shrugged.