The Beginning
Bulgaria... A sacred land.
Majestic mountains, endless plains, crystal springs, and rivers of diamonds.
A sacred land that has nurtured great tsars, mighty warriors, noble men and women.
It was in this land, in the capital of this sacred country—Tarnovo—where our hero was born.
Though glorious, the Kingdom of Bulgaria stood at the brink of dark and trying times. The social and economic state of the Balkans was dire, and the cause was the great clash between Islam and Christianity. The Ottoman Empire continued its relentless expansion, seizing more and more of the Balkan territories, while Bulgaria remained fractured and divided.
One year before the death of Tsar Ivan Alexander, a child was born in the city of Tarnovo to the noble Petkov bloodline, led by the stern and battle-hardened Petko Mechostravni. The boy, named Boro by his father Plamyan, was born into a lineage of great men. He had an older brother named Konstantin, just three years his senior. Yet the two brothers were anything but alike.
Konstantin was cold and distant, and he harbored a quiet resentment toward Boro, who seemed to draw more of their grandfather Petko's attention. Though Boro was wilder and more reckless, Petko saw something of himself in the boy—something no one else could see. As time passed, Konstantin's heart grew bitter. But the reason wasn't Boro. According to Petko, it stemmed from a single moment in his childhood.
One afternoon, Plamyan took his sons on a walk along the outskirts of Tarnovo. There, a Bogomil preacher was speaking to a crowd of ignorant and gullible folk, claiming that the Devil was equal to God, and that all things material were the Devil's creation. Boro, just five years old, understood little of what was said. But eight-year-old Konstantin heard it differently—and that moment marked the beginning of his loss of faith in God.
When Plamyan learned of this, he told Mechostravni, furious beyond words. Without hesitation, Petko gathered his warband and led a massacre of over seven hundred members of the Bogomil sect. To him, they were traitors to the Christian faith.
Betrayed
Years passed, and times grew ever darker—until the worst day came upon the people. The Second Bulgarian Empire was falling. The scene defied description.
Boro, now twenty-six years old, witnessed the sorrowful collapse. In those moments, which he believed might be his last, he watched everything that had been built over centuries crumble into ruin—all because of one thing: betrayal.
And not by just anyone, but by his own brother.
Konstantin had treacherously aided the Turks in their invasion. Because of him, countless cities were burned and pillaged. There was nothing more to be done—everyone was dead. Boro now stood defending a single house on the outskirts of the city, the last shelter he shared with his grandfather.
Petko turned to the young warrior and said:
— "My boy... I've lived a hundred years. There's no need to protect me now. My time has come. God gave me a good life—now it's your turn to live. But promise me this: keep your faith, and avenge what your brother has done."
Then Petko closed his eyes, tears running down his cheeks, and passed away in peace—because he knew Boro would keep his word.
Boro buried his grandfather in a hidden place, far from the eyes of the Turks. It was the last duty he fulfilled before leaving the fallen kingdom behind.
He had a mad idea—to go after his brother.
After gathering his belongings, Boro set out.
At midnight, the moon cast its pale glow over the city. Shadows of guards moved through alleyways like ghosts haunting the streets. The rivers of blood had begun to dry, and through this ghostly silence, a young man walked with purpose—to fulfill his vow.
He fought his way through the night, rousing the entire city with the clamor of battle. He killed every man who stood in his way. In his eyes burned a fire that could not be extinguished.
After six relentless hours of combat, he realized he was surrounded.
The sun had just begun to rise.
Then he heard a voice—Konstantin's—calling from the shadows:
— "Borcho… I didn't expect you to come so soon."
Konstantin stepped forward and ordered the others to leave them alone.
Konstantin:
— "Brother, I'll give you a chance. Leave the empire now, and no one will touch you. Just walk away without a fight."
Boro:
— "I'll be brief… very brief."
Konstantin:
— "Ahhh… hahaha, please…"
Boro:
— "Shhhh… Silence. You're weak. Dishonorable. A traitor! LISTEN TO ME! You betrayed me, you betrayed God, you betrayed our people, and you turned your back on the man who gave everything for you—who gave you his knowledge while our father was at war with the very ones you let in so easily!"
Konstantin:
— "Brother, go—and don't come back. If you return, I will kill you myself."
Boro:
— "Good… Better to be dead when I return to take my revenge."
The conversation ended.
The gauntlet had been thrown.
And the betrayal… had never felt colder.
Boro left the country unchallenged—as if by some miracle.