Few months later
The battlefield had become unbearable. No one could have imagined the Kuznetskozhyans unleashing such terrifying weapons of mass destruction. Every day, our frontline base endured countless air raids. Sometimes they even dropped chemical bombs or napalm into the trenches. The number of soldiers killed in direct combat couldn't compare to those lost under relentless artillery fire. The barrages rained down not only on the front but also on our supply lines, crippling reinforcements.
Water and rations were drastically reduced. Some units had nothing to eat, forcing men to gnaw on enemy flesh, drink sewage water, or rummage through garbage. As if that weren't enough, the Kuznetskozhyans deployed rocket artillery convoys, making the destruction of our defenses even easier.
I sat in a trench, waiting for the bombardment to pass. Beside me were comrades of the once-renowned "Freedom Kuznetskozhyan" group:
Captain Dimitri, a former Kuznetskozhyan special forces soldier who had defected.
Victor, a quiet young man whose skills rivaled those of a veteran. Tall, with cropped hair and blue eyes.
Augusta, the team's liaison, smaller than the rest, with light brown hair.
Mikhail, an ordinary soldier and my old classmate. Black hair, black eyes.
Quite the coincidence, wasn't it?
Captain Dimitri emerged from the command tent and addressed us gravely:
"All right, listen up. We've received orders to attack. This one's going to be tough — our artillery has run dry. Ilaina, Klaus, you two go ahead and scout the enemy's positions. The rest of us will follow."
"Yes, sir."
Our position was poor. We were camped on flat, open fields, while the enemy hid hundreds of meters away inside tall buildings. An assault was nearly impossible. Altirustzkan command sent scouts like us forward to locate enemy positions, call in airstrikes, and use our bodies to secure strongpoints. With this strategy, we had taken some ground but at the cost of countless lives.
"This mission shouldn't be too hard, right, Klaus?"
"Yeah. Just stay behind me, Ilaina. I'll signal if anything happens."
We slung our Mark-18 and AK-12 rifles over our shoulders, ready for a half-day march. Dimitri and the others took their supporting positions. Our job was simple — rush forward, flush the Kuznetskozhyans out, and mark them for artillery. Simple… and suicidal.
Climbing out of the trench, I stared at the land before us. One word described it: death. I smeared mud across my face, took a deep breath, and charged into the thick mist, clutching Ilaina's hand as she followed. In the distance, shattered skyscrapers loomed. We crept low, moving from crater to crater, drenched in mud and rain.
After about 500 meters, we collapsed beside a burned-out T-72-80 tank. Lucky — usually men didn't make it this far. Many fell within the first hundred meters.
"Still far… at least two kilometers to go. If I so much as peek out now, I'll be shot."
"Klaus, do you have water? I'm dying of thirst."
I pulled a canteen from my pack and handed it to her. "Here."
As Ilaina drank, I picked up a Kuznetskozhyan helmet from the ground and raised it above the crater, hoping to draw sniper fire. Nothing. Silence. Too silent. Growing careless, I pressed on. Suddenly, Dimitri's voice crackled over the radio:
"Klaus, Ilaina, everything still all right?"
"Nothing yet. No snipers, no movement. They haven't noticed us. Any luck on your end?"
"Negative. Keep advancing."
We moved forward. Ilaina soon stumbled across heaps of corpses from both sides. They lay scattered, some already decomposing, crawling with flies and maggots. The stench was unbearable.
"Christ… so many bodies."
"Scouts before us. I heard nearly 800 men were killed here last week alone."
"Then there must be twenty-four thousand bodies in this sector."
"Wouldn't surprise me. The commanders burn through men faster than bread in an oven."
Through dead, scorched trees came a familiar sound — Ilyushin-25 Lagot strike aircraft. They had wiped out twelve elite battalions in a single day. Ilaina dove into a crater; I rolled into one nearby, radioing Dimitri:
"Dimitri, Lagots inbound — five to seven of them. Call air defense, now."
"Understood. Just finish your mission."
Hours later, we finally neared enemy positions. Barely two to three kilometers separated us from the buildings ahead — well within sniper range. I unfolded a map, muttering:
"Still no Kuznetskozhyans… They're hiding too well. Guess I'll have to use this."
Ilaina noticed my exhaustion and offered: "Rest. Let me handle it."
She pulled an old drone from her pack and flew it toward the enemy lines. Strangely, nothing happened. Normally, our UAVs were shot down within minutes. But this time — silence.
"It's like they vanished…"
"Dimitri, still nothing. Request permission to advance toward the highway. Over."
"Go. Our UAV will cover you."
A little further, we found an abandoned Kuznetskozhyan truck. I climbed into the driver's seat, started the engine.
"Perfect. Kamaz still works. Hop in, Ilaina."
"So, you can drive too, Klaus?"
"Of course. Had to learn — gotta take my wife on rides someday," I joked.
The highway into the city was jammed with destroyed vehicles, reeking of burnt fuel. Clothes and luggage littered the road, remnants of chaos. Sometimes we passed charred corpses and burning wrecks, oil fires still raging. I plowed through what remained of the enemy soldiers, sending them to the graves they deserved.
The city appeared after half an hour. Rusymark, buried under ash storms, its ruins cloaked in dust. The wind carried the debris in spirals down the deserted avenue.
In some districts, soldiers had broken walls to move between houses. Furniture was dragged into streets to form barricades. Trenches, tunnels, supply depots, field hospitals — all carved into the cityscape. Crash courses in soldiering, first aid, propaganda — anything to prepare civilians. Yet it was still far from enough to win this war.
The streets were either empty or choked with bodies and wrecked armor. Abandoned districts were littered with surrender leaflets dropped from planes. Elsewhere, charred metal structures stood like rusted skeletons. Corpses rotted, flesh consumed by worms.
At the city's edge, Ilaina and I came across a deserted supermarket. We decided to check it out, hoping to scavenge something — cigarettes, gum, maybe beer. Anything valuable.
The glass doors were shattered, fragments scattered across the cold white floor. I entered first, AK-12 at the ready, Ilaina close behind, mimicking my movements.
A few months later
The battlefield in these months was unbearably brutal. No one could have imagined that the Kuznetskozhyans would unleash such deadly weapons with such terrifying lethality. The frontline base endured countless air raids every day. Sometimes the enemy even dropped chemical bombs and napalm into the trenches. Deaths from direct combat were dwarfed by the numbers killed by artillery. Those barrages, like torrents of rain, even targeted supply lines, making resupply even harder.
Drinking water and food were cut drastically. Many units had nothing to eat and were forced to gnaw on the flesh of the enemy or drink contaminated water and scavenge through trash bins. The Kuznetskozhyans also deployed rocket artillery convoys, which made demolishing defensive lines much easier.
I sat in the trench, waiting for the shelling to pass. Beside me were members of the once-famous "Freedom Kuznetskozhyan" group:
Captain Dimitri, a former Kuznetskozhyan special forces soldier who had defected.
Victor, a quiet, taciturn young man whose skills matched those of a seasoned veteran. He was fairly tall, with cropped hair and blue eyes.
Augusta, the group's comms operator. She was smaller than the rest and had light brown hair.
Mikhail, an ordinary soldier and an old classmate of mine, with black hair and dark eyes.
Funny how things line up.
Captain Dimitri stepped out toward the command tent and addressed us formally.
"All right, listen up. We've received orders to attack from higher command. This time will be rough — our artillery ammo is nearly exhausted. Ilaina, Klaus, you two go ahead and scout. The rest of us will follow and provide cover."
"Understood, sir."
Our fighting position was at a disadvantage. We were deployed on open, flat fields while the enemy lay a hundred meters away, sheltered in high-rise buildings. An assault was nearly impossible. Altirustzkan command only dared send scouts to the front to probe enemy positions, then call in the Air Force to bomb them and use those scouts' bodies to seize positions. With that tactic we had gained territory, but we also lost many capable soldiers.
"This mission should be easy enough, right Klaus?"
"Yeah. Ilaina, stay behind me. I'll call it out if anything comes up."
We slung our Mark-18 and AK-12 rifle over our shoulders and prepared for a half-day dash. Dimitri and the others took up overwatch positions. Our job was to run forward and do whatever it took to bait the Kuznetskozhyans into revealing themselves, so the artillery could strike. It was a deathtrap — a hail of bullets awaited.
Climbing out of the trench, I stared tensely at the land ahead. One word came to mind: Death. I took a breath, smeared mud across my face, and plunged into the thick mist, gripping Ilaina behind me. In the distance, ruined skyscrapers loomed. We moved bent low, using bomb craters for cover to avoid enemy sight. Mud and rain clung to our torn uniforms.
After about 500 meters, we halted beside a burned-out T-72-80 to rest. Lucky — usually even this far was pushing it; many never made it past a hundred meters.
"Looks like it's still far — two kilometers to go. Tough. If we stick our heads out now we'd get shot."
"Klaus, do you have water? I'm dying of thirst."
I unscrewed the water canteen from my pack and handed it to Ilaina.
"Here, take it."
While waiting for her to recover, I grabbed a Kuznetskozhyan helmet lying on the ground and hoisted it high so enemy snipers might spot it. Yet for a long time there was no response. The air remained deathly still. I let my guard drop a bit and moved deeper into enemy territory. Suddenly Augusta and Dimitri contacted me over the radio.
"Klaus, Ilaina, status? Any trouble?"
"Can't see a thing. No signs of snipers yet. Seems they haven't noticed us. Any intel on your end?"
"No one's shown themselves. Keep moving toward the highway. Over."
After a break, we pushed further in. Along the way Ilaina spotted countless corpses from both sides strewn everywhere. Many had begun to decay, flies and mosquitoes...
At the edge of the city, the two of us stumbled upon a large abandoned supermarket. Ilaina and I decided to go inside, hoping to see if there was anything left worth taking. If we could find something like cigarettes, chewing gum, or beer, that would be perfect—we could even sell it for a good price.
The outer door wasn't locked. The supermarket's reinforced glass had already been shattered, lying in large fragments across the cold, white-tiled floor inside. I quietly stepped forward, AK-12 raised and aimed as if expecting a target, with Ilaina carefully following behind me.
"Take it slow… there might be some of them hiding in here."
"I think you're worrying too much… Besides, this is kind of fun."
I couldn't help but feel that what we were doing was a little childish—after all, there was no way a Kuznetskozhyan soldier would still be lurking here. But in a way, the act itself reignited a spark of life in this otherwise silent, suffocating place that was once so crowded and full of noise.
My eyes scanned every corner, alert for an ambush. Not for a single second did I let my guard down. Step by step, I moved in, with Ilaina gently shadowing me.
The air was heavy and stale, without the slightest coolness—no power, no air conditioning. The stench of spoiled produce clung to the place, a foul odor that made us recoil; whatever was left behind had surely sprouted maggots by now.
Everything inside was chaos. Shelves were overturned, goods scattered everywhere. Most of what had once filled the aisles was gone, leaving only scraps behind—yet even scraps were enough for us to rummage through and pick. While we searched, Ilaina broke the silence:
"Klaus, when do you think headquarters will finally start a counteroffensive?"
I looked at her, paused for a moment, then answered with a serious tone:
"I don't know. Dimitri told me things are still really tough. It'll take a long time before we can counterattack and reclaim those territories. As long as the Kuznetskozhyan tanks are still around, we'll be struggling."
Ilaina sighed."Looks like this is the best situation we can hope for right now. Maybe it's selfish, but… I wish this whole place could just be ours. Everything we'd ever need, all here."
"I feel the same. But in the end, this place will be taken too. You and I—we're just two people our own homeland threw away. All we can do is hide here, under that label."
The words fell out of me with a heavy sigh, meaningless yet weighted. I didn't want to shatter her small dream, but I couldn't ignore the reality either: the military was already failing to provide enough food for the refugees. If supplies were cut off completely, panic would take over. And when that happened, even if the Kuznetskozhyans retreated, people would slaughter each other out of desperation. Human hearts were unpredictable. I had seen it. I had lived it.
My steps slowed, my brows knitting tightly together. Then suddenly, from behind, Ilaina started tossing rolls of toilet paper at me.
"Hey, want to try this silly little game? Take that!"
During the chaos of those early days, most things had been looted—but not these. Of course not; they weren't seen as essentials, so piles of them remained untouched. Laughing, I picked up a box and threw it back at her.
"Take this! Sneaking up on me, huh?"
Grabbing a blanket from the shelf, I ran at her, flung it over her, and we both toppled to the ground. For once, a bit of childish play felt harmless. After all, who knew when we'd die? We hurled toilet paper, tore into pillows stuffed with feathers and foam, and made a mess of everything. Two weary reconnaissance soldiers, usually swallowed by endless darkness and hardship, became carefree children again—laughing, teasing, playing as if it were peacetime.
In that moment, the whole supermarket came alive, glowing with a false but precious sense of joy, lifting us away from the grim reality outside, away from despair. Just a fleeting moment in our lives, but it made us forget everything and sink back into memories of what peace once felt like.
We played until we were breathless, laughing so hard our jaws ached. As afternoon slipped into evening and the world outside grew darker, we began searching again, combing the place for whatever was left to claim.
"Perfect!" Ilaina suddenly shouted.
It turned out she had found something every girl would dream of: a pile of perfumes and jewelry that looked unmistakably expensive. Among them was a pair of cross necklaces worth as much as a villa — I'd seen one like it on TV long ago.
Ilaina walked up to me and smiled softly.
"Bend down a little, Klaus."
I obeyed in silence. Ilaina looped her hand around my neck and placed one of the two cross pendants on me.
"Wow, it suits you. Let it be our memento, okay?"
I took the remaining pendant from Ilaina's hand and said, "Alright, then I'll put this on you."
I slid my arms behind Ilaina's neck and fastened it the same way she had for me. The face of the pendant was beautiful — the cross was engraved with intricate patterns, and it was set with some kind of gemstone I didn't know the name of.
"Ilaina, where did you find this set? It looks so luxurious."
"I'm pretty good at that sort of thing," she replied.
…
We headed to the electronics section and emptied it of the phones and accessories we liked. Then we grabbed bags of soft drinks and beer, cigarettes, and food. We had nearly filled the Kamaz with our spoils.
Suddenly, footsteps echoed nearby, drawing closer. I snapped back into combat mode, frantically chambering a round and cocking my weapon; everyone swallowed hard and braced as if for a life-or-death fight. Then a familiar voice called out:
"Klaus! Ilaina! Where are you? It's me — Augusta!"
Luckily, it wasn't Kuznetskozhyans — it was our squad. Mikhail ran over to the Kamaz, laughing loudly.
"Haha, come look — Ilaina and Klaus were planning to clear this place out without sharing a single thing. Is this corruption or what?"
Captain Dimitri stepped out and answered good-naturedly, "No need for that. Just pretend they're on a date — then it's not corruption."
We hadn't long to relax before the roar of jets made us freeze. Looking up, two squadrons of Lagot attack aircraft were alternating runs, carpet-bombing Altirustzkan lines with incendiaries. It seemed they wanted to stop us from taking this place, using it as bait to bleed our manpower dry — a cunning strategy indeed.
That suspicion was confirmed when we found a draft of the Kuznetskozhyan forces' operational plan for the city center. Nobody could believe their eyes — all the time we'd been exposing ourselves out here had been wasted. Dimitri sighed in exasperation.
"Fuck — we've been walking into this trap for over half a year and didn't notice. Unbelievable."
Mikhail did little but complain about the stupidity and stubbornness of the senior officers.
"We should take this to the commanders and wake them up. I told you this was a trap. Seventy thousand troops gone this month. We might all die if this keeps up."
Victor, standing nearby, was just as angry. "Those bastards won't care. Screw it. They just want reinforcements so they can skim everything off the top — nothing good will come of it."
While the others continued cursing the high command, my attention drifted to some cigarette packs on a nearby counter. Curious — I'd never tried smoking — I took the most premium pack and slipped away from the group to a corner. I pulled the pack out from my sleeve.
"Wow, first time trying, huh?" — a bright, familiar voice sounded.
Before I could light it, Ilaina had me caught, stopping me before I could strike a match. Caught red-handed. I turned to her and tried to invite her in.
"Yeah, just trying it — wouldn't want to die without at least trying one of these rare things. You smoking?"
Ilaina flatly refused. "No. Smoking causes disease. Your wife and kids wouldn't want their father addicted to cigarettes."
I smiled and teased her about the other night. "And your kids wouldn't like their mother getting wasted off a few sips of beer and needing a man to escort her back to the room, would they?"
"That doesn't count!" she snapped, flushing, and shoved me away. I stumbled backward — and then I saw something horrific.
"Oh my God! What the hell is that?" I shouted.
At the sound of my scream, Mikhail ran over. Minutes later he fainted from the sheer gore. I had to turn away; it was unbearable. Some sank to their knees and wept — Ilaina among them. No one would have expected Kuznetskozhyan soldiers to have fallen so low. If something made an experienced soldier cry, it had to be monstrous.
I panicked and clamped my hand over Ilaina's eyes to spare her the image.
"Ilaina, close your eyes! Don't look — look at me."
Before us rose a mountain composed entirely of naked women's bodies, a river of blood flowing violently through the silent, cold block. It was more horrific than anything I had ever seen. They had all been raped to death — including children and women. Most of the bodies were mutilated, as if dissected for scientific experiments. We stood frozen. In total, over ninety-six bodies were found that day alone.
Everyone was stunned, color drained from their faces.
"What kind of filth is this? How could they be this cruel…?"
"This is beyond the limit. We need to report this to command."
"They won't care. This is… more barbaric than I imagined."
Many of us couldn't believe our eyes. Why would our fellow Kuznetskozhyan soldiers bring war here and trample the lives of innocent, decent civilians? They were supposed to liberate the oppressed — so why this abomination? Why…?