Alfred looked over the horizons of his country. The iron gates of the mountains that stood strong-- a rifle in hand. Johan, Mich, Hanzel slept peacefully last night, tonight, he hopes his will be just as soothing. From the top of the mountain range, where his headquarters was planted, he watched as tanks and infantry steamrolled upon villages from below. Until the sound of silence was drowned out with artillery and the roar of engines.

Alfred stood his ground as a tank pulled up to the gates. A man propped himself from the tank, "Will you admit defeat?" The man rattled around in his backpocket as he spoke, "This is your final warning."

The young soldier laughed, the odds were impossible. One versus 30 units, can one man do it? Alfred reached into his chest pocket and pulled out a red dice. He lifted it up to the falling sun, and ran his thumb through six white indents on the dice. In one hand, Alfred held his badge -- his pride, his country, his friends.

The man atop the tank became impatient, as he swiped from his backpockets three black dices, "GG, WP." He called out. Alfred's gut twisted as he saw the outcome of the dices, 6, 4, and 4, all high numbers. Alfred shut his eyes and chucked the red dice.

There was a silence. The engines stopped, the infantrymen screaming died out. Alfred lifted an eye open to his dice - - It had rolled to a six. A smirk formed on his face, as he straightened his back towards the army. The hand of God flew down the skies and pulled an enemy solider from the ground.

29 men left. Alfred reached down and picked up his dice. "Defender's advantage."

This wasn't just a war. This was Risk.