Chapter 114:
"Wake up, James!"
The sharp voice of Andrew, his best friend and squadmate, tore through James's dream. In his sleep-addled state, James blinked groggily, the remnants of an unremarkable dream fading as reality came rushing back. The dim lighting of the tent cast long shadows across the rugged canvas walls, and the faint hum of generators outside reminded him exactly where he was, a temporary camp in the middle of nowhere.
"What's going on?" James mumbled, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. His standard-issue Nu-7 fatigues were crumpled beneath him, and the weight of exhaustion still pressed heavily on his shoulders.
Andrew was already fully suited, his expression a mixture of urgency and confusion. "MacLean's called for an emergency assembly. The entire Nu-7," he said, his tone low but pressing.
That woke James up faster than a pot of black coffee. The commander of MTF Nu-7, Hammer Down, didn't just summon the entire battalion unless something big was happening. Something very big.
James threw off his blanket, adrenaline starting to kick in. "Did he say why?"
Andrew shook his head. "No clue. But you know the drill. Get up, fast."
James nodded, already pulling on his gear. Whatever was happening, he had the distinct feeling this wasn't going to be just another routine deployment.
James stepped outside, falling in step beside Andrew, who was waiting with an impatient expression. The camp was alive with a flurry of activity, operators and support staff rushing to and fro with hurried efficiency. The air buzzed with tension, the kind that came before a major operation. Floodlights cast stark white beams across the camp, illuminating the rows of armored vehicles and supply crates being hastily loaded.
The two made their way toward a large group of Nu-7 operators clustered near the central command post. At the center of the formation stood a captain, his uniform crisp and his expression unreadable. James recognized him immediately, Captain Huang, the leader of the 1st infantry Company of Nu-7 "Hammer Down"
As James and Andrew approached, an operator peeled off from the group and strode toward them. His armband identified him as a sergeant.
"Sergeant," James and Andrew greeted in unison, snapping quick salutes.
The sergeant returned the gesture, his sharp eyes scanning them briefly before nodding to James. "Corporal White, your team's been waiting. You're the last to arrive," he said in a clipped tone. Turning to a nearby officer, a lieutenant, he added, "Sir, my squad is now complete."
The lieutenant, standing with hands behind his back, acknowledged the sergeant with a curt nod before addressing Captain Huang. "Captain, the second platoon is accounted for and ready."
Huang's gaze swept across the gathered operators. His voice, calm but commanding, carried effortlessly over the group. "Good. Listen closely, this operation is critical, and failure is not an option. Let's begin the briefing."
The crowd straightened, the air thick with anticipation as Huang prepared to deliver the orders that could change everything.
Captain Huang unfolded a large map, spreading it across a makeshift table and pointing to various marked locations as he addressed the gathered operators. His voice was steady and authoritative.
"Commander MacLean has ordered our first company to advance south of Area-19. Our objective is to secure the surrounding villages and clear a path for the second and third companies, who will be accompanied by the armored platoon. Overwatch Command has authorized Protocol 'Titan's Hammer,' and reinforcements are en route from Area-14. Expect heavy support, this will be a coordinated operation."
He paused, gesturing to another part of the map. "An AC-130 Gunship designated 'Death Lord,' from Eta-5 'Bomber Jaeger,' will provide aerial cover. Now, let me break down what to expect. The most common hostile you'll encounter are standard combatants, basic fighters armed with swords and shields. However, the real threats are the Type Blues, some Type Greens and the local wildlife, which is far deadlier than anything on Earth. Be vigilant. Underestimating either could get you killed."
As Huang continued to outline strategies and contingencies, James felt a light tap against his ribs. He glanced to his side, where Andrew stood with a sheepish grin.
"Uh, hey," Andrew whispered. "What's 'Titan's Hammer' again?"
James closed his eyes briefly and pinched the bridge of his nose, suppressing a groan. With a deliberate motion, he smacked his own forehead before turning to his friend.
"Idiot," he muttered under his breath. "As your team leader and corporal, I'm technically supposed to reprimand you for not knowing this."
Andrew chuckled nervously, holding his hands up. "C'mon, give me a break."
James exhaled sharply, then leaned closer to explain. "It's when every reserve unit and all subordinate units of Nu-7 are mobilized. It temporarily boosts Nu-7's active ranks from 1,000 personnel to 10,000. That doesn't even include support staff, communications officers, engineers, and all the other auxiliary teams."
Andrew blinked, then gave a low whistle. "That's… a lot."
"No kidding," James replied, shaking his head. "Try to keep up next time, would you?"
Andrew grinned in response, clearly unbothered.
Huang abruptly cut off his briefing and snapped, "Hey, you two, shut it. This is a briefing, not a chatroom."
The sharp rebuke silenced James and Andrew instantly. They exchanged sheepish glances, only to receive icy glares from their sergeant and lieutenant. With all eyes now on Captain Huang, he continued as if nothing had happened.
"The second platoon will take point," Huang said, his tone cold and commanding. "You've all been issued universal translation devices developed by the eggheads in the research department. These auto-translation AIs link directly to your helmets, enabling real-time communication with the locals of this world. While the translations may not be perfect, they'll be sufficient for field operations."
He paused, letting the information sink in, then scanned the crowd with a steely gaze. "Follow standard engagement protocols. Observe first. Engage only in self-defense or under direct orders. Understood?"
The resounding response was immediate. "Yes, sir!"
Huang nodded, satisfied. "Good. Make sure you're all equipped with the heavy gear. We're going to teach these so-called mages exactly how we cast bullets."
A wave of subdued murmurs rippled through the operators. James felt the weight of the moment settle over him. Huang's confidence was infectious, but James couldn't shake the sense that they were stepping into something far bigger than anyone fully understood.
"Squad leaders," Huang barked, "double-check your teams' readiness. We move out at twenty. Dismissed!"
The group broke apart like a well-oiled machine, every operator moving with purpose. James and Andrew joined their squad near a line of armored transports, where their sergeant awaited, clipboard in hand.
"Corporal White," the sergeant called sharply. "Report."
James stepped forward, snapping a salute. "Second platoon, fourth squad, Fireteam Charlie fully accounted for, Sergeant."
The sergeant nodded, his expression impassive. "Good. Make sure everyone has their gear in order. No excuses."
"Yes, Sergeant," James replied. He turned to his team, a mix of 3 seasoned operators and fresh faces. Andrew stood off to the side, his usual grin replaced by an expression of focus.
"Alright, you heard the captain," James said. "Check your weapons, gear, and comms. No one lags behind. We move as one."
As the squad began final preparations, Andrew sidled up to James, his voice low. "You think this mission's going to be as straightforward as they're making it sound?"
James frowned, his eyes scanning the organized chaos of the camp. "When is it ever?" He slung his rifle over his shoulder, his grip tightening instinctively. "Just stay sharp. We're heading into the unknown, and the unknown has a habit of hitting back hard."
Andrew gave a solemn nod. The mood was heavy as the squad loaded into their transport, engines rumbling to life. The convoy soon began rolling out, a line of steel and firepower carving its way through the otherworldly terrain.
---
An hour later, James sat inside the rumbling M2 Bradley, going over squad details with Sergeant Garrick, the squad leader, and Corporal Garcia, leader of Fireteam Bravo. The vehicle's interior was cramped, filled with the faint hum of engines and the metallic clatter of gear being adjusted. A holographic map flickered on a portable device between them as they discussed their strategy.
Garrick, his voice low but firm, pointed to the map with a gloved hand. "The lieutenant has designated us as the recon squad. That means we're the first to encounter any threats, so stay sharp. We'll take point through this forest here," he said, tracing a line along the dense green area marked on the map. "The convoy will halt here," he continued, tapping a spot one kilometer north of the first village. "Our second platoon's mission is to scout and secure the village."
He paused, scanning the faces of his team. "Our squad's role is to move to high ground on the northern edge of the village. From there, we'll provide overwatch for the first, second, and third squads as they breach the perimeter."
James leaned in, studying the map as Garrick went on. "White, your team is authorized to deploy anti-materiel rifles to support the operation. Once you're in position, Fireteam Alpha and Bravo will hand over their snipers to your team for added coverage. Take out any threats before they get close to the main squads. Understood?"
"Yes, sir," James and Garcia replied in unison, their tones steady and confident. Around them, the rest of the squad listened intently, nodding in silent acknowledgment of the plan.
Before more could be said, the captain's voice came over the comms, clear and authoritative. "Convoy halt. We've reached the drop point. All squads, disembark and secure the perimeter."
Garrick wasted no time. "You heard the captain," he said, standing and grabbing the release handle of the rear hatch. The metallic clunk of the hatch unlocking was followed by the rush of cold, fresh air as it swung open.
"Move out! Stay close, stay sharp," Garrick ordered, stepping down onto the soft, uneven ground, his rifle at the ready. One by one, the squad followed, their boots crunching against dirt and scattered leaves as they fanned out into a tactical formation.
James was the second to exit, gripping his rifle tightly. As his boots hit the ground, he scanned the surrounding forest. The area was eerily quiet, the only sounds being the distant hum of engines from the convoy and the rustling of leaves in the breeze.
The forest felt alive, yet unnervingly still, as if watching them.
The voice of Sergeant Garrick came through the radio, calm and authoritative: "Fourth Squad, move out. Alpha Team on point, Bravo to the right flank, Charlie, you're our overwatch on the left. Maintain spacing, stay sharp, and watch your sectors. No unnecessary chatter. Let's move."
James tapped his helmet twice to acknowledge the order and turned to his team. Charlie Team, consisting of James as team leader and three operators, Miller, Hayes, and Andrew, moved into a staggered formation. Their movements were practiced and deliberate, boots brushing softly against the forest floor.
Ahead, Alpha Team, led by Garrick, took the point. Bravo Team, under Garcia, peeled off to the right, keeping close to the tree line as they secured the squad's flank. Each team maintained radio discipline, the only sounds being the occasional crackle of a transmission and the hum of Death Lord, the AC-130 Gunship providing overwatch from the skies above.
The forest was dense, with towering pines and thick underbrush making visibility difficult. The canopy allowed only faint beams of sunlight to filter through, casting fragmented shadows that played tricks on the eye. The eerie stillness was interrupted only by the crunch of leaves underfoot or the distant rustling of the wind through the trees.
James swept his rifle in slow arcs, his eyes scanning for any sign of movement. His fireteam mirrored his actions, each covering their designated sector.
"All teams, report status," Garrick's voice cut through the radio.
Garcia responded first. "Bravo here. Right flank clear, no signs of contact."
James keyed his mic. "Charlie reporting. Left flank secure. No movement detected. Proceeding as planned."
Garrick acknowledged with a sharp, "Copy. All teams, keep moving."
As the squad pushed deeper, James couldn't shake the feeling that they were being watched. He stopped momentarily, holding up a fist to signal his team to halt. Hayes moved up beside him, whispering.
"Something wrong, Corporal?"
James didn't answer immediately, focusing on a patch of thick foliage about 50 meters ahead. After a moment, he shook his head. "Nothing yet. Let's keep it tight."
The team resumed their march, but the unease lingered.
Suddenly, a voice from the Gunship crew came through the comms, professional and steady.
"Ground units, this is Death Lord. We're maintaining overwatch position at 5,000 feet. Current scans show no immediate hostiles, but thermal imaging indicates faint heat signatures further ahead. Could be wildlife. Proceed with caution."
Garrick responded. "Acknowledged, Death Lord. Keep us posted if those signatures move. Fourth Squad out."
James exchanged a glance with Miller, who gave a small shrug. "Wildlife or not, this place feels off," Miller muttered, barely audible.
A sudden rustling to the right brought the entire squad to a halt. Weapons snapped to the ready, barrels trained on the source of the sound.
"Bravo, report," Garrick demanded.
Garcia's voice came through, hushed but composed. "Contact in the brush, two o'clock. Movement erratic. No clear visual yet."
James keyed his mic. "Charlie standing by for support."
After a tense pause, Garcia's voice returned. "False alarm. Just a kind of strange deer. Bravo moving forward."
Garrick's tone was clipped. "Understood. Let's not waste time. All teams, resume formation and keep eyes sharp. Charlie, stay focused on that left flank."
James exhaled slowly and motioned for his team to continue. The tension had ramped up, but he knew they couldn't afford to lose focus.
After nearly an hour of slow, methodical progress, Garrick's voice came through again. "All teams, halt. We're approaching the objective."
James crouched low, motioning for his team to take cover behind the nearest foliage. From their position, the forest began to thin out, and the outline of wooden structures came into view. Smoke curled lazily from a distant chimney, confirming that the village was inhabited.
"This is Death Lord," the Gunship crew reported. "We have visual on structures approximately 600 meters ahead. No thermal signatures of hostiles for the moment, but civilian activity confirmed. Proceed with caution."
Garrick keyed his mic. "Copy that, Death Lord. Fourth Squad, hold position and observe. Charlie, get me eyes on the northern approach. Bravo, cover the right. Alpha will take point if we move in."
James nodded and turned to his team. "You heard him. Hayes, Miller, find a vantage point. Andrew, you're with me, let's set up on the ridgeline and provide overwatch. Move."
The team moved swiftly but silently, taking positions that offered clear views of the village. James peered through his scope, taking in the scene below.
The village looked primitive but orderly, with small wooden houses and dirt roads. A group of villagers moved between the structures, their movements calm and unhurried.
Garrick's voice broke through the comms. "All teams, hold positions and standby. Lieutenant Barkov, Fourth Squad is in place. Awaiting your orders."
The squad settled into their positions, rifles trained on the village below. The incline had been steep, and their gear weighed heavy, but the vantage point was perfect. From here, James had a clear line of sight over the village and its surroundings.
"Charlie team in position," James reported over the comms, adjusting his sniper rifle's bipod and settling into position. He scanned the area through his scope, noting the layout of the village, a cluster of simple wooden houses surrounding a central square, a well, and a scattering of livestock pens.
"Copy, Charlie," came Garrick's voice. "Hold position and maintain overwatch. Bravo and Alpha will cover your back."
James nodded, though no one could see him. Beside him, Hayes began setting up a spotting scope, while Miller double-checked their ammunition.
"Hayes, call out any movement," James instructed. "Miller, keep the channel clear unless it's urgent."
"Roger that," they replied in unison.
Down below, the rest of the second platoon was advancing toward the village. The first and second squads moved tactically, leapfrogging between cover as they approached the outskirts. Over the radio, James heard Lieutenant Barkov coordinating their movements.
"First squad, take the eastern approach. Second squad, secure the main road. Keep it tight, and watch your corners."
"Copy, moving now," replied a voice James recognized as Sergeant Polk from the first squad.
James watched through his scope as the soldiers moved into position. The villagers had begun to notice the approaching troops, some peering out from windows or stepping hesitantly into the open.
"Corporal, you seeing this?" Hayes whispered.
James adjusted his scope, focusing on a group of villagers gathering near the well. They looked nervous, huddling together and glancing toward the advancing soldiers.
"Yeah, I've got eyes," James said. He keyed his mic. "Lieutenant, looks like we've got civilians congregating near the center of the village. No visible weapons."
"Understood," Barkov replied. "Keep them in sight. First and second squads, keep moving. Don't spook them unless they give you a reason."
The first squad reached the edge of the village, taking up positions behind fences and low walls. They advanced slowly, sweeping each house methodically. Second squad followed, creating a perimeter around the square.
James tracked their progress, shifting his aim between the squads and the villagers.
"Clear on this side," came a report from first squad.
"Main road secured," added second squad.
Everything seemed to be going smoothly. The villagers were compliant, gathering where the soldiers directed them. A few livestock wandered aimlessly, oblivious to the tension in the air.
"Third squad, report," Barkov's voice cut through the comms.
"Still clearing the outer buildings," a soldier replied. "No hostiles so far."
James exhaled slowly, keeping his focus sharp. "Hayes, anything on the perimeter?"
"Negative," Hayes said, scanning through the spotting scope. "Just the locals."
From his elevated position, James could hear snippets of conversation over the open comms. Garrick and Garcia were coordinating their respective teams, ensuring Alpha and Bravo were in position to provide support if needed.
Suddenly, a voice crackled over the radio. "All squads, report."
"First Squad, clear."
"Second Squad, clear."
"Third Squad, clear."
"Fourth Squad clear."
Barkov's voice returned, calm but firm. "Good work. Let's finish this. First and second squads, gather the civilians in the square. Third squad, complete your sweep and regroup at the center. Fourth Squad, maintain overwatch."
James shifted his position slightly, resettling his rifle as he watched the squads converge on the square. The villagers complied, moving hesitantly but without resistance. It seemed, for the moment, that the operation would proceed without incident.
Then, over the open channel, a sudden shout:
"TYPE BLUE!"
Suddenly, a deafening roar of an explosion ripped through the village, shaking the very ground beneath James and his team's position. His eyes widened as three operators from the third squad were hurled out of a house, their bodies slamming into the dirt like ragdolls. Dust and debris filled the air, obscuring the scene momentarily.
"What the hell was that?!" Hayes exclaimed, frantically scanning through his spotting scope.
Before anyone could respond, the shattered remains of the house shifted violently. From within, a massive stone hand erupted through the roof, clutching the edge like some monstrous claw. The roof caved under the pressure, and an immense figure began to rise, its form composed entirely of jagged, ancient stone.
James's heart pounded as the massive golem emerged fully, towering over the surrounding structures. Its glowing, rune-etched chest pulsed with energy, and its hollow, stone eyes scanned the area menacingly.
"Contact!" someone shouted over the comms, panic evident in their voice.
Lieutenant Barkov's voice cut through the chaos, sharp and commanding. "All squads, FIRE AT WILL ON THAT THING!"
Gunfire erupted from every direction as the first, second, and third squads opened up on the golem with everything they had. Tracers lit up the dusk as rounds streaked toward the monstrous entity, slamming into its stone body in bursts of sparks and ricochets.
"It's not working!" came a frantic report. "Rounds are bouncing off!"
The golem raised one massive arm and brought it down with terrifying speed. The operators below scattered, narrowly avoiding the crushing blow as the ground splintered beneath the impact.
"Garrick!" Barkov's voice boomed through the comms. "Fourth squad, take that thing down NOW!"
James snapped into action, gripping his sniper rifle and repositioning to line up a shot. Beside him, Andrew was already calculating the firing solution, his voice calm despite the chaos below.
"Range: 512 meters. Wind: 3.5 knots northeast. Adjust elevation two clicks. Target center mass."
James adjusted his scope as instructed, steadying his breathing. His finger tightened on the trigger.
"On your mark," Andrew said.
"Mark."
The rifle barked, the recoil slamming into James's shoulder. The anti-materiel round tore through the air and slammed into the golem's chest with a thunderous impact. Stone shards exploded outward as a massive hole appeared in the creature's torso, causing it to stagger back.
"Direct hit," Hayes confirmed, unable to hide his grin.
James allowed himself a small smile, watching the golem falter, only for it to fade immediately as the hole began to close, the stone knitting itself back together.
"What the-" James muttered, his disbelief turning to frustration. "It's regenerating!"
Barkov's voice returned, more measured but no less urgent. "Fourth squad, Command just confirmed it's an invocation golem. Its weak point is a scroll embedded in its head. Destroy the scroll, and the entire construct will collapse."
Garrick's response was immediate. "Understood. White, you heard him. Take the shot."
James exhaled sharply, refocusing through his scope. The golem had recovered its footing and was beginning another attack, swinging its massive arm toward the operators below. The squads scrambled to avoid the blow, firing uselessly at its impenetrable body.
Andrew's voice was steady and precise. "Target the head. Range: 510 meters. Wind: 3.2 knots northeast. Adjust one click down for elevation. You've got one shot at this."
James blocked out everything else, the shouts, the gunfire, even his own pounding heart. His world narrowed to the golem's glowing head in his crosshairs.
"Mark."
James fired. The shot streaked through the air, slamming into the golem's head. For a split second, there was silence. Then the top of the golem's head exploded in a shower of rock and debris, sending chunks of stone raining down. The massive creature froze, its runes dimming, before collapsing in on itself with a deafening crash.
The village square was silent, save for the sound of falling rubble. James pulled back from his scope, exhaling heavily as the adrenaline coursing through him began to subside.
"Direct hit," Andrew confirmed with a nod.
James couldn't help but let out a relieved chuckle. "Good riddance."
Barkov's voice came through the radio, calm but with an undercurrent of urgency. "Fourth squad, well done. All squads, that golem didn't just appear out of nowhere. Find the Type Blue responsible for summoning it."
Before anyone could respond, a new voice cut in. It was the officer from the AC-130, Death Lord. "Death Lord to all ground squads. Two individuals are fleeing the village to the west."
Barkov didn't hesitate. "Acknowledged. Fourth squad, intercept them."
James immediately shifted his rifle, scanning the western edge of the village through his scope. It didn't take long to spot them, a man and a small girl, running frantically through the open field. His breathing slowed as he tracked them, noting their erratic movements. A squad of operators emerged from the buildings behind them, closing in quickly.
Suddenly, the man stopped and spun around, his hands glowing with a fiery aura. In a desperate motion, he hurled a ball of flame toward the advancing operators. The operators dove for cover as the fireball exploded against a nearby wall, scattering debris and smoke.
James swore under his breath. The man was a Type-Blue, no doubt about it. There would be no taking him alive without risking the lives of the operators below.
"Take the shot," Garrick ordered over the radio.
James hesitated, his crosshairs locking onto the man. He could see the fear in the man's eyes, the desperation driving him. But there was no time to dwell on it. James steadied his breathing, inhaling slowly as Andrew called out the firing solution beside him.
"Elevation: two clicks down. Wind: steady. Adjust one degree left. You're good to fire."
James exhaled. "Mark."
The rifle cracked. The anti-materiel round tore through the air, slamming into the man's abdomen with devastating force. His body crumpled mid-step, severed clean in half by the impact.
Through the scope, James saw the little girl stop dead in her tracks, staring in horror as the man's lifeless body collapsed to the ground. She screamed, her voice piercing through the chaos. Tears streamed down her face as she dropped to her knees beside him, shaking him desperately.
The automatic translator in James's helmet crackled to life, converting the girl's anguished cries into cold, clinical English. "Papa… no, please wake up. You promised… you promised we'd go fishing today. Papa, stop pretending… No, no, Papa!!"
James felt a lump form in his throat, his hands trembling slightly as he gripped the rifle. His chest tightened painfully, and he clenched his teeth, trying to block out the sound of her sobbing.
Below, Alpha team emerged from the tree line, moving toward the two figures. The operators approached cautiously, weapons ready. The girl was inconsolable, her tiny hands clawing at the lifeless body of the man as if she could will him back to life.
The operators separated her from the corpse. She screamed, struggling against them with all her might, but she was no match for their strength. Her cries echoed in the stillness, a raw, heartbreaking wail that cut through even the cold professionalism of the scene.
James's vision blurred slightly. He blinked quickly, swallowing hard as his throat tightened further. Andrew noticed, placing a firm hand on James's shoulder.
"This kind of thing happens, James," Andrew said quietly. His voice was steady, but there was an unspoken understanding in his tone.
James didn't look at him. "I could've shot him in the leg. He'd still be alive."
Andrew's voice came over the comm, blunt but with an edge of empathy. "You didn't have a choice, James. It was him or our brothers down there. You chose to protect your own."
James didn't respond. His eyes remained locked on the scene below, watching as the operators carried the struggling girl away from her father's body. The weight of his decision settled heavily on his chest, leaving him silent as the world seemed to grow colder around him.
Barkov's voice crackled through the radio, sharp and resolute. "All squads, new orders. A drone has identified a group of over 100 armed individuals approximately 1.5 kilometers south of our position. They are heading toward us. Our orders are to intercept and neutralize them. Second Platoon, regroup south of the village immediately. Execute."
James exhaled slowly, pulling back from his sniper's scope. He glanced at Andrew, who was already packing up their observation equipment with practiced efficiency.
"Looks like we're up again," Andrew muttered, securing the rangefinder in its case.
Before James could respond, Garrick appeared with Alpha Team trailing behind him. His voice was firm, yet calm.
"White, we're moving. Pack it up. Charlie, stay on me. Bravo, regroup at the southern edge with Alpha. Let's go."
James nodded, flipping the safety on his sniper rifle before detaching it from its mount and folding it into its carry position. He slung it across his back and readied his primary weapon, an advanced assault rifle. As he moved, his gaze wandered briefly back to the square where the girl remained kneeling beside her father's lifeless body. Her shoulders heaved as her cries reached his ears, raw and heart-wrenching.
James's grip tightened on his rifle. He let out a slow, measured breath, then turned to follow his team.
As the Fourth Squad moved through the village, the atmosphere grew heavier. Villagers peeked from windows or stood frozen on the dirt paths, their expressions a mix of fear and hatred. James avoided their gazes, focusing on the sound of boots hitting the ground and the quiet orders relayed between team leaders.
Alpha and Bravo squads had already formed up near the southern edge, scanning the tree line. Barkov's voice returned over the comms.
"Second Platoon, confirm readiness."
"First Squad, ready."
"Second Squad, ready."
"Third Squad, ready."
"Fourth Squad, ready," Garrick followed.
James glanced at his teammates to ensure they were prepared.
Barkov continued, his tone crisp. "We'll take up defensive positions here and intercept them in the forest ahead. Fourth Squad, establish firing lines and support the other squads. Death Lord will provide overwatch. Stand by for contact."
Garrick waved the teams into motion. "You heard him. Alpha, to the right. Bravo, left. Charlie, with me in the center. Let's move."
They advanced toward the southern edge of the village, taking positions along a natural rise overlooking a stretch of open terrain bordered by dense forest. The squads moved quickly but methodically, checking for cover and coordinating firing lanes. Andrew set up next to James, deploying the spotting scope.
"Range: 1,480 meters. Crosswind from the west at 3 meters per second," Andrew murmured, relaying the data.
James nodded, adjusting his scope accordingly. His gaze remained fixed on the forest line, scanning for movement.
Suddenly, the radio crackled again. "Death Lord to all ground units, enemy contacts confirmed. Large group approaching the clearing, heavily armed. ETA two minutes."
Garrick's voice cut in. "Copy, Death Lord. Fourth Squad, stay sharp."
Through his scope, James spotted the first signs of movement, figures emerging cautiously from the tree line, weapons gleaming in the sunlight. The sheer number was staggering.
"Contact, 12 o'clock," James reported over the comms. "At least a hundred."
The tension was palpable as the platoon prepared to engage. James adjusted his aim, heart steady as he waited for the order to fire.
---
Eudes marched in formation with his fellow soldiers, the rhythmic crunch of boots on the forest floor mingling with the occasional call of birds and rustling of unseen creatures. The dense woods of Lord Beaubourg's domain enveloped them, the canopy filtering sunlight into fragmented beams that played across the forest floor. His shield was strapped to his left arm, and his sword rested securely in its sheath, a reassuring weight but one he hoped not to draw too hastily.
Born into a poor peasant family far from the bustling cities, Eudes had enlisted in the service of House Beaubourg with dreams of providing for his struggling kin. Yet, despite his determination, he had failed to distinguish himself among the ranks. Each day blurred into the next: endless drills, routine patrols, and the occasional skirmish with bandits or rebels. It was a monotonous existence, one that offered little hope of rising above his station. His dreams of knighthood or even a modest elevation in status seemed unattainable.
Everything changed when Lord Beaubourg summoned his troops for an urgent assembly. The news was grim yet electrifying: the capital had been invaded by the Earthlings, a mysterious force unlike any the kingdom had faced. Though the assault had been repelled, the invaders had scattered across the land. The lord's orders were clear, search the domain relentlessly and capture or eliminate the intruders.
For Eudes, this was a beacon of hope. Capturing one of these "Earthlings" would surely elevate his standing, perhaps even grant him a title. He threw himself into the mission with newfound fervor, his determination burning brightly. Yet, days passed with no sign of the invaders, and his hope began to wane, replaced by a gnawing despair.
Then came yesterday's proclamation: a full mobilization of House Beaubourg's forces. Reports indicated that the Earthlings were regrouping and preparing to strike. They were close, too close. The lord had ordered the vanguard, Eudes included, to scout the forest ahead of the main army and locate any sign of the enemy.
Today, Eudes marched with purpose, his heart beating with a mix of fear and excitement. This was the moment he had awaited, a chance to prove himself. His comrades shared his tension, their usual banter replaced by somber silence as they advanced through the undergrowth.
Eudes tightened his grip on his shield, his eyes scanning every shadow and flickering movement in the trees. Somewhere out there, the Earthlings awaited. He only hoped that when the moment came, he would have the courage and skill to meet it.
The soldiers trudged through the dense forest in a loose formation, their footsteps muffled by the soft undergrowth. The midday sun barely penetrated the thick canopy above, casting the group in a dim, greenish light. Eudes kept his shield close, the familiar weight a comfort as his mind wandered to thoughts of home.
A sharp whisper broke the silence.
"Do you think they're really like the stories say?" Benoît, a wiry young soldier with a chipped sword at his side, glanced at the others. "The Earthlings, I mean. Metal beasts, fire that comes from their hands, and weapons that can kill from far away?"
Roland, an older veteran with a scar running down his cheek, scoffed. "Stories always make the enemy sound like demons, lad. It's just to scare us into staying sharp. They bleed like anyone else. We proved that at the capital."
"But they did invade the capital," Benoît pressed, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial tone. "And they fought off the royal guard. That doesn't sound like something normal men could do."
Roland waved a dismissive hand. "The royal guard's overrated. Bunch of nobles playing at soldiers. Give me fifty farmers with spears, and I'll take them down." He chuckled, but it was a dry, humorless sound.
Eudes remained silent, listening as the conversation carried on around him.
"I heard their weapons don't use powder or magic," another soldier, Marc, chimed in. He adjusted the strap of his shield as he spoke. "Just some kind of… force we don't understand. That's why they're so dangerous. They're not bound by the rules of our world."
"Which is why they need to be stopped," said Gérard, a hulking man whose deep voice carried an edge of bitterness. "They came here, uninvited, bringing their chaos and destruction. They think they can take whatever they want because they're more 'advanced.' I'd love to put my blade through one of those arrogant bastards."
The others murmured in agreement, but Eudes felt a flicker of doubt. Gérard's hatred was almost palpable, but Eudes couldn't help but wonder if there was more to the invaders than what they'd been told.
"What about you, Eudes?" Benoît asked, breaking through his thoughts. "What do you think of the Earthlings?"
Eudes hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "I think… they're men, just like us. Maybe they've come from a place so different that they don't see us as equals. Or maybe they're just following orders, like we are."
Roland snorted. "Don't get soft, boy. Men or monsters, it doesn't matter. They're enemies, and they'll kill you if you don't kill them first."
"Maybe," Eudes muttered, though the unease in his chest remained.
The group fell silent for a while, each man lost in his thoughts as they pressed deeper into the forest. It was Benoît who finally spoke again, his voice low and unsteady.
"I don't know about you," he said, glancing over his shoulder at the shadows that seemed to press closer around them, "but I've got a bad feeling about this."
No one replied, but Eudes felt the weight of those words settle over them like a storm cloud.
Eudes continued to march with the rest of the group, his eyes scanning the dense forest around them. The canopy above cast long shadows, and the occasional rustle of leaves or distant animal cry broke the stillness. He kept his shield firmly in hand, the weight grounding him amidst his racing thoughts. He tried not to think of the Earthlings, but the stories told by the others lingered in his mind.
Suddenly, an earsplitting BAM echoed through the forest. Eudes froze, his grip tightening instinctively on his shield. He turned just in time to see the knight leading their formation slump sideways off his horse, his head reduced to a mist of red and fragments. The lifeless body hit the ground with a sickening thud, blood pooling beneath the ornate armor.
For a moment, there was silence, then chaos erupted.
A sharp, relentless chorus of percussive cracks filled the air, like an endless volley of thunderclaps. Eudes turned his gaze to the front of the formation and saw his comrades dropping one by one. The screams of the dying mingled with the grotesque sound of flesh tearing and armor shattering.
The line ahead of him collapsed in a torrent of carnage, blood spraying in every direction. Limbs flew, bodies convulsed, and those still alive screamed in terror or agony as the unseen attackers cut them down. The dense undergrowth ran red with the blood of his brothers-in-arms.
Eudes felt his knees weaken, and the strength in his legs gave out. He collapsed onto the forest floor, his shield slipping from his hand. Trembling uncontrollably, he curled into himself, squeezing his eyes shut and waiting for the inevitable blow. His breath came in panicked gasps as he prayed to his god for mercy.
But then… silence.
The barrage stopped as suddenly as it had begun. Slowly, painfully, Eudes forced his eyes open. His heart felt like it would burst as he surveyed the carnage around him. The forest floor was littered with the bodies of his comrades, their broken forms lying in a macabre tableau. Blood pooled and mingled with the dirt, forming streams of crimson.
Eudes' stomach heaved, and he vomited violently, the acrid taste burning his throat. His vision blurred with tears as he stared at the nightmare before him, unable to comprehend how it had all happened so quickly.
Then, movement.
From the trees emerged figures, human shapes, but dressed in strange, uniform clothing that seemed to blend perfectly with the forest. Their faces were obscured by helmets and masks, and each carried a sleek black weapon unlike anything Eudes had ever seen.
Terror gripped him anew as the figures advanced toward him, their presence an overwhelming force of dread. He tried to crawl backward, his arms and legs trembling too much to support him.
Three of the figures broke off and approached him directly, their weapons trained on him with unwavering precision. The lead figure stopped a few paces away and shouted something unintelligible: "@2?:&/?38;?&/."
Eudes didn't understand the words, but their tone left no doubt, they were commands. His breathing quickened, his heart pounding so loudly it drowned out his thoughts.
Then, an unfamiliar voice, cold and mechanical, spoke in his language. "Put your hands in the air."
The shock of hearing the words made Eudes drop his shield instantly. He raised his hands shakily, tears streaming down his face. His voice caught in his throat, unable to muster a word of protest or plea.
Two of the figures closed in, gripping his arms with an iron strength. The third stepped forward and seized his sword, examining it briefly before discarding it onto the blood-soaked ground.
Eudes tried to speak, to beg for his life, but before he could utter a sound, one of the figures raised the butt of their weapon and struck him hard across the head.
A blinding flash of pain shot through him, and the world spun wildly. His vision darkened, and his thoughts dissolved into an abyss of nothingness.
Eudes collapsed, his limp body joining the countless others that littered the forest floor. His last conscious thought was a desperate, wordless prayer as darkness claimed him.
---
James stared ahead, his sniper rifle still warm in his hands, faint wisps of smoke curling from the barrel. The scene before him was one of utter devastation. The forest floor was a sea of bodies, blood soaking into the earth beneath them. The massacre was absolute, and James stood amidst it all, his face devoid of any discernible emotion.
Operators from the second company were methodically moving through the aftermath, checking the corpses for signs of life or gathering intelligence from the fallen. Near the edge of the line of bodies, James noticed an unconscious soldier being hauled off by three operators, his limp form dragged like cargo.
Andrew lay prone next to James, his rifle resting against his shoulder. He turned his head toward James, his voice dripping with sarcasm and exhaustion.
"So, killing a father in front of his kid tears you up inside, but wiping out a hundred people in one go doesn't even make you flinch?"
James didn't look at him, his gaze fixed on the aftermath. His voice was flat, almost cold. "I don't regret killing adults. What I regret is when those decisions drag kids into the mess we create."
Andrew exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "Well, we've got two more villages to 'secure' after this. Feels like it's going to be a long week."
James said nothing, his grip tightening slightly on his rifle. The two men lay there in silence, the weight of the carnage pressing down like the humid air around them.