The sky bled as the world sung in the roar of endless battle.
The air stank of burning flames and blood.
The trench walls oozed mud as fireballs screamed overhead.
Schneizel stared, mouth agape, as the VR headset's pulse of light faded, blasting him into another world.
"You! Are you new!?" A woman slammed into him, driving them both down.
They ducked beneath the trench as the world exploded.
"Yes!? Why!?" Another explosion shook the earth beneath them.
She grabbed his hand, shoving a pendant into it—its center pulsing with light.
"Name's Angel. Here—magic core. Barrier, heal, fireball inside" A round of gunfire then erupted from above the trenches. She threw a stone. Schneizel caught it as she stood. "Put the stone in the hole—then want it. Barrier, heal, fireball—just want it."
"Captain! They're charging!" A terrified scream took her attention before she ran. "Don't die!"
"Wait! What the fuck!?"
"For the Motherland!" A man jumped into the trench with him. "Die Aurician scum!"
"Wait! Wait! Wait! Can someone give me context?" Schneizel raised his hand as the man stopped.
"Wait, are you new?" The man stopped, axe high up in the air.
"Yes?" Peeked with trepidation.
"Ha! Spawning in the middle of a losing siege. That sucks." The man offered his hand.
"What do I do?" He grabbed it with a smile.
"Just try and kill anyone with a different uniform that's been working out for me."
A pillar of fire screeched above them before it landed at the man.
He exploded, blood splattering across Schneizel's face—his limp hand still clenched in Schneizel's.
He stared at the arm still attached to him. This is a game right?
The smell of iron assaulted him as the warmth of blood dripped on his face.
This is way too real to be a game. What kind of war-sim did he get himself into?
How did he even get here?
"Fucking move! Newbie! PTSD later." Angel grabbed him by the collar, dragging him with her.
"That dude just died!"
"He isn't dead. He'll be back in a minute. Then you're the one doing the dying."
Another barrage of fireballs screeched across the sky.
"Use your barrier! Newbie!" Angel threw him over the trenches and dashed.
Schneizel ran awkwardly, "Wait!"
Another explosion erupted by his side and he jumped.
Hundreds more ran past him as the barrage howled ever closer.
"Pendant, fuck pendant." He grabbed the pendant and roared, "BARRIER!"
A barrier shimmered around him as his world drowned in fire.
Schneizel touched his face, heart pounding, breath coming in ragged gasps.
Blood. Heat. Smoke. The stink of death.
This is a game, right?
He looked down at the pendant, still glowing faintly in his hand.
A wild grin tugged at his mouth.
Holy shit... that was fun.
"Oi! Newbie you alive?" Angel dragged him back with a grin plastered on his face.
"That was fucking awesome." He muttered, still in shock.
She stared at him, weirded out before shrugging. "Good you're up then."
He sat up, "Wait, where am I?"
"Caldenheim. You spawned right in the middle of a siege."
She turned at the enemy lines, "Looks like they're regrouping. Though so we have time."
"So… context?" Schneizel raised an eyebrow.
"Did you do any research at all before going into the game?"
"Nope, not at all. I was invited, downloaded the game and just went in raw."
"That sounds excessively stupid." She sighed and dragged her hand down her face. "Okay, when you spawn, you're assigned to a squad. You got put in mine. I relay commands from my elected officers."
"Elected?"
"Yeah. Like, democracy. Our squad voted for me. I voted for my officer. They voted for theirs."
"So it's a chain? All the way to the top?"
"Yep."
"That sounds wildly corruptible."
"Why do you think we're losing right now?"
"Because we're in a cohesive retreat? And backup is en route?"
"No, because our marshal hates our general and we're left to pick up the pieces."
"That's rough."
The sky screeched in response as hundreds of fireballs blotted out the sky.
The smell of ozone simmering in the air.
Angel stared at it and looked down at her pendant. "I don't have enough mana, you?"
Schneizel stared at his pendant and saw the light fade. "Nope."
"Well, shit." Angel cursed as they both ducked under cover.
The ground trembled again as the shouts roared from the enemy lines.
"Do you have a weapon?" He asked.
She tossed him a shovel, "Here, always have a shovel."
"For the Motherland!" A dozen men jumped into the trench. "Die Aurician scum!"
Schneizel didn't think. He swung.
The soldier's face caved in with a crunch.
Blood sprayed.
Schneizel swung again. Harder.
He wore the pendant and ran forward, shouting, "BARRIER!"
Blood dripped from his smile as he turned to the others.
A grin stretched across his face as something clicked back to place.
He charged.
Another soldier raised his hand—Fire erupted from his palm.
Schneizel's barrier shimmered—then shattered.
He swung again, crushing the man's jaw as he tried to cast.
The soldier raised his hand weakly, in surrender.
Schneizel slammed the shovel down.
Bone crunched. A head caved in.
He stood there, soaked in blood, grinning wider than ever as chaos erupted around him.
A single thought remained in his head, that is to kill everyone with a different uniform.
He charged again, swiping his shovel against a neck.
His shovel buried into it, snapping the man's spine as more enemies rushed against him.
He ripped the pendant as he cast another barrier, charging down another.
Another enemy lunged—he ducked. A shovel missed.
He tackled the attacker into the mud and punched his face in.
Each one with a guttural scream, louder than the last.
He ripped off the pendant and shouted "BARRIER!" again.
Blood painted his face, seeping into his grin.
With a pulse of light. The shield flared.
He was untouchable. He was alive.
God, he had missed this feeling.
The rush. The clarity. The violence.
It gripped him like an old vice—blazing, insatiable, inevitable.
Across him, a squad of enemies emerged from the smoke.
Organized. Prepared.
Their boots crunched against the scorched ground, weapons gleaming, eyes locked on him.
Schneizel didn't flinch.
He hammered his fist against his chest. "C'mon! Who's next!"
The squad hesitated—then parted.
A man stepped forward, unhurried.
Tall, composed, removing his coat like an aristocrat.
"Cast the formation spell," the man said to his unit. "Engulf the flank in fire."
His eyes never left Schneizel. "You," he said, pointing, "I'll deal with myself."
Schneizel's grin split wider. His fingers tightened on the shovel. "Good."
The man stepped forward. "Let's dance."
"BARRIER." A barrier shimmered around him before shattering immediately.
Then a punch slammed into his face.
His head snapped back, body reeling—but his feet didn't move.
He held his ground.
With a snarl, he raised the shovel and brought it down.
The enemy blocked it with his arm.
His eyes locked with his. Cold. Calculating.
Then the man punched. Rib, face, gut.
Each one knocking the wind out of him.
Schneizel roared, kicking him square in the gut.
A grunt. A stumble.
Then the man surged forward, driving Schneizel back—slamming him into the dirt.
Pinned.
With the weight crushing down on him. Hand on his neck.
Schneizel clawed the earth—grabbed a fistful of dust and threw it into the man's eyes.
A wince. A curse.
That was all he needed.
Schneizel surged upward, teeth bared, and slammed his forehead into the man's face.
Bone cracked. Blood sprayed.
He grabbed his head and roared—and did it again.
And again.
Each blow harder. Louder. More feral.
The man sagged. Dazed. Bleeding.
Schneizel didn't hesitate and slammed the shovel down his throat, decapitating the man.
He gripped his shovel in his hand as the men before closed rank
He knew they were preparing for something big.
He ripped the pendant from the man's neck—and the others clutched with it.
"FIRE!"
Magic pulsed.
Flames sparked.
And then—it roared.
An inferno erupted from his hand.
It surged outward—snaking along the trenches, between corpses and mud.
Devouring every enemy in its path.
Screams vanished into the flames.
The smell of burnt flesh wafting across the air.
The trench itself became a furnace.
Schneizel rose from the dirt, face scorched, the flames painting him in gold and crimson.
Behind him, the trench burned like the wrath of a god.
Before him, his allies stood frozen.
Not with fear.
But with Awe.
"Who is that?"
"No fucking way."
"He has my fucking vote."
Then something in his head pinged.
[NOTICE] Ten soldiers have chosen you to lead them. Congratulations Captain.
[NOTICE] Thirty soldiers have chosen you to lead them. Congratulations Lieutenant.
[NOTICE] One hundred soldiers have chosen you to lead them. Congratulations Commander.
Well shit.