Despair.
As the tent was violently swept by an unknown force, the lights in the eyes of Alonso Laan—doused by a towering shadow. The umbra swallowed the forsaken land, and everything in its grounds.
The horror in Alonso's face could not be hidden in the surgical mask he was wearing. Staring at its silhouette felt as if gazing at his death—a figure anyone would recognize; a form, devoide of hope.
What's it doing here?! Alonso scrambled for answers—no, but explanations didn't matter at that moment.
His heart beating faster than ever before, I should run. I want to run! Wait—there's no way to outrun it! But still...
His left leg recieved the desperation first, then his hip turned against the clock, followed by his right leg.
The soldiers also started scramming. No destination in mind—just as far away far is.
Alonso kept going until he escaped death's cast. His medical gown drenched in blood—but not his. Nor were they blood spilled by the current event. The stains in his white garment came from injured soldiers, whom he was treating since the night before.
It is not even a part of this war! He struggled—For it was a war only meant for humans to wolf each other. Exhausted, but he kept going.
Then suddenly, everyone heard it. An eerie hiss echoed throughout the tarnished field. The sound of mitos leaking!
Plaugsh! Hwochklgsh!!!
Quickly followed by screams of pure inextinguishable pain. The injured soldiers who couldn't run, and the nurses who didn't give up on them—met their sealed fate in embers.
I can hear it. The scrambling screams, and crisp of crackling flames.
I can smell it! Flesh burning, and blood boiling—Alonso's hope sunk in, beyond salvage.
While it continued its assault—burning, crushing, and devouring. Soldiers with given names—one after another turned into numbers. Just totalling the casualties; 12... 48... 73... 122...
The number of deaths can only rise. Not just soldiers, but other medical volunteers were dragged in the pool. And eventually, the camp was in ruins.
Scattered bones and flesh,
In a sea of flames.
Eroding blood transgress,
In crimson puddles.
…
Alonso hid inside a hollow tree, observing his duty. He was treating a fallen soldier he had picked up. He could only turn to responsibility, for he didn't know what to do.
Perhaps, there was something in the distance. While pressuring the wound, he stared there—about a thousand yards away.
He could still hear them, screaming. Maybe it was still going, or the cries just lingered in the air.
There was no chance our enemy would attack here. And it in fact wasn't an enemy, nothing but a force of nature—unmatched in destruction! The regret in Alonso's mind started to fade as he accepted. Fear turned into resent, as the incident neared it's end.
How fate play its tricks to the unfortunate...
…
Death.
Soldiers in horseback—a cavalry approached the scene. Sent for reinforcement, but they already knew that it was too late. Dark smoke rising peacefully like rivers of soot in the sky, and the deafening silence gave it obviously. And so, they marched.
Reaching the place, what greeted them is only one thing—a grotesque painting of a barren land, ruins in flames, thick black smoke in the air, and distorted bodies of men called heroes. Simply nothing was unrecognizable. And it is all framed by a contrasting lush green forrest.
And in the distance, a tree stood still—scorched...
What a tragedy, "29 years, and it seems that I know nothing..." The marshal said in disbelief.
Horseshoes sounded to his left, "Marschall Hausser! Johann have checked multiple times, there was no signs of any living human mitos. We estimate five hundred fifty and more are dead. And no equipment is salvageable."
"Not only that, but injured soldiers are constantly being sent back from the western front. The next recovery camp is nowhere near, so—" Johann the sorcerer added before being cut off by Hausser.
"They have to be sent back to the front, to recieve what little treatment they have there... We're in a pinch, It will take at least a month to build another fully operating camp." Constructing the camp is the easy part, with the lack of medics—looking for medical volunteers will be a challenge after this.
The marshal sighed tiredly, then he took off his helmet. His men followed, closing their eyes.
Johann started a ritual, hoping all soul would cross.
…
Detachment.
I can see nothing, not even darkness... I can hear nothing, not even silence. I can't taste, smell, or feel anything! Not even my own body?! I can't speak nor move, Am I even breathing?! Am I dead?! How am I thinking?!... Will I now spend eternity... In nothing? Alonso cried out, alone.
Who's that?! Immediately he followed it up with, How come I can hear someone else?! What the hell is happening?! How come you're in my mind?!...
...
Answer me! Where the hell are we?! His sanity slipping away...
What sanity?! Don't tell me...
Who are you?!
You can hear me?
Yeah, loud and clear!
Interesting...
Who are you? And do you know where are we?!
Who I am won't matter, yet. What's more important is that you're dead.
I see... So are you death, or god?
How hopeless. You've forsaken so much that hearing of your own death is what had calmed you. But fear nothing for thiI'm not scared. How can I be scared when I feel nothing?
Cutting me off will have consequences against you. But were you not afraid that you will spend an eternity here?
…
I guess I'll be here forever then. Mind telling me who you are? I'm Alonso Laan, if we're gonna be roommates, it's best to be in good terms don't you think?
…
Hey! Don't leave me alone here you bas—
... I'm sorry. I'm sorry cutting you off, so please... don't leave me alone... by myself....
Don't you worry, you won't stay 'here' for long.
You kind of pressured 'here' in there huh? Where are... we... exac... tly? And so, Alonso fell asleep in his dream.
And let's pretend that didn't happen, shall we?