Helmut let out a dry breath—half scoff, half pity.
"Worse. Fire oil burns. This shreds."
He waved them toward the stone wall.
"Place a dummy beside it."
They obeyed. The dummy was set upright beside the wall, awkward and lifeless, like a man waiting for execution.
Helmut pulled the pin and lobbed the grenade with casual precision.
"Take cover."
They scattered. Some ducked behind crates. Others threw themselves to the mud like animals sensing a coming quake.
BOOM.
The explosion was not theatrical—it was brutal. Final. The shockwave slammed into their chests, left ears ringing, lungs seizing. Steel shrapnel screamed through the air like a chorus of demons, embedding itself into stone, splintering wood.
When the dust settled, the dummy was gone. Not damaged—gone. Bits of straw, cloth, and wood were embedded in the stone wall. The closest recruits stared at it, eyes wide, hearts thudding. A few looked down to check they were still whole, relieved they were alive.
