March 10th, 1846.

  Jason's breathing was slow yet rapid, his glossy eyes looking into mine. His hands lifted, trying to hold my arm, yet too weak to even grasp. He wheezed and lifted his chin, breathing air through his mouth.

  And through the pain, he managed to mutter, "Kasey?"

  The guilt only ate at me as I watched Jason, still looking at me for guidance when I had none. For help when I could offer none.

  I couldn't break eye contact. It felt like I was accepting his death if I did. Slowly, Jason dropped his head, his breathing slow, with a soft gasp and wheeze.

  "I'm sorry, Jason... I should've shot faster. I should've known... I thought... I thought you were fine..." I rambled, staring at the ground. My eyes began to grow watery as I clasped Jason's hand in mine.

  His hand was cold, so cold, yet his forehead was burning.

  "Can't you help him?" I told the surgeon, who raised an eyebrow and responded.

  "He's practically paralyzed and now has a fever... what exactly am I supposed to do?"

  "A warm towel! Some... some kind of medicine. Anything!" I pleaded.

  "The towel is on its way, but in case you haven't noticed, it's fairly difficult to make a fire this high up. And medicine? That's risky. If we even have any left." The surgeon then turned away and began to treat another man, a victim of the Ridge.

  I stayed kneeling by Jason's side, whispering apologies for what felt like hours. For so long, my legs were numb, my knees burning, but at least Jason's hand was warm.

  Every breath was a wheeze of agony. His words were gasps, and if he dared move an inch, his whole body would begin to quake.

  Yet even in pain, Jason lifted his hand, pain evident in his eyes, as he placed it on my shoulder and whispered.

  "Hurry."

  His arm fell limp, his head reclining back as he closed his eyes.

  I froze. I swore he had died, but relief washed over me as I saw the slow rise and fall of his chest.

  Then the trumpet sounded. An announcement. I looked down at Jason one more time, and with shaking legs, I pushed myself up, grabbing my rifle. Leaving the medical camp, the cold wind hitting my face, causing all my hair to stand on end. Each regiment was lined up. I quickly joined mine.

  Each regimental Colonel was on a stand addressing their regiment. I joined the circle of men surrounding the colonel as he stepped up. He looked around, scanning us.

  He cleared his throat, raising his chin.

  "Men of the 112th! Good morning!" He addressed us where many colonels had taken out a letter our colonel stood. Prideful yet careful.

  "The Free State of Virgo has this day entered into alliance with the Federal Republic of Navara! The Virginis have declared war upon the Inhuman invading Savages! Henceforth, the forces of Virgo are to be regarded as brothers-in-arms. The first Virginis Marine regiment is to be expected and will help us push back the inhuman threat and protect a free human world! Regiment! Dismissed."

  He stepped down and kicked open a chest filled with newspaper. The minute he stepped away, everyone flooded to the chest, passing newspapers and reading out information.

  I watched yet felt nothing. The Virginis weren't here and won't be for a long time.

  The Sergeant appeared behind me, grabbing my shoulder as he cleared his throat.

  "What's on your mind, Kasey?" The Sergeant asked.

  I shook my head and muttered. "I failed."

  "Failed?" The Sergeant then chuckled and shook his head. "You did better than most men here. You survived the age of despair. You scouted the elves. How have you failed, Kasey?"

  "Jason's dying." I looked down at the snow, my hands on the barrel of my rifle holding the only thing it knows.

  "Mac and eagles died under my command. Listen to me, Kasey, I can't tell you it will go away, but if you dwell on it, those memories will kill you faster than any bullet will. You want to make Jason proud and..fuck even give him a chance at life? You fight here and kill every invader. Jason isn't bedridden because you failed as a leader. He's bedridden because those pointy ear savages invaded us!" The Sergeant grabbed my chin, forcing me to look to the elven camp.

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  And as we observed their camp, we saw the fog lift as the day reached its peak. Banners raised, lines being formed.

  The Sergeant didn't say a word, and I felt a chill run up my spine.

  The Trumpet sounded, the drums began to bang out a desperate rhythm, signaling the enemy.

  "FIX YOUR RANKS!" The colonel yelled out as trumpets on our side echoed between regiments, and company's rushed to their positions.

  I shoved and ran to the wooden wall, lifting my rifle.

  The artillery officer raised his Spontoon, and with the lighting of a fuse, the blast of the cannon echoed, throwing smoke and snow into the air, the cannon itself reeling from the force.

  I watched as inhumans were torn by steel now dead or wounded on the floor. Their ranks descended into panic.

  The wind brought silence that overcame both sides for a brief moment nobody made a move. We listened to the wind howl in our ears, my body trembling yet not from cold.

  The inhuman warhorn pierced through the quiet, and with it, a loud hiss and a large shadow overcame us,

  "ARROWS?"

  "IT'S A WHOLE VOLLEY OF EM TAKE COVER!"

  Dropping down hiding behind the wooden wall covering my head with my arms listening to the wind cutting and the consecutive landings of arrows in that moment I listened to screaming and groaning, cursing, the artillerymen quickly retaliated as I lifted my head flinching from each stray arrow elven forces were being ripped from canister shot.

  "FIX YOUR DAMN RANKS! WE'RE HUMANS AREN'T WE? YOU FIGHT THROUGH LEAD ARROWS AREN'T SHIT TO YOU!" The Captain barked out, walking through our ranks, grabbing my coat, and forcing me to my feet.

  The trumpet sounded once more. A new pattern.

  "FIX YOUR BAYONETS" The order ran down the ranks as we desperately attached it to our rifles.

  Glancing behind me, I saw our regimental colors being held up by a color bearer his face pale as he attempted to look brave.

  "YOU WERE TRAINED FOR THIS! FIRE, CROUCH, RELOAD, AND REPEAT." The Major yelled.

  The elven warhorn sounded.

  The Sergeant marched back and forth behind us as we held our rifles fixed on the enemy. The cannons erupted once more and amidst the fog i saw the elven army charging toward us, canister shot ripped through the charge the entire front row dropping to the floor groans and screams echoing in the frozen wind as blood flew and spattered onto the white snow.

  The Inhumans approached closer, and then the trumpet echoed.

  "FIRE BY RANKS!" I squeezed my rifle trigger, its stock kicking back my shoulder, my ears ringing from the sheer ripping sound of the thousands of rifles in unison.

  The fog completely obscured my view. I crouched down as the second volley cracked open the bullets whizzing overhead as we reloaded our rifles.

  "Kasey! Kasey!" Robert called out as he stumbled toward me, grabbing my arm, his eyes reflecting pure fear.

  "Up!" I yelled and stood up, rifle at the ready now that the smoke had settled. I saw the aftermath of hundreds of corpses lying dead. The white blanket is now a red massacre.

  The elven charge had been reduced to a desperate stumble where many were limping others yelling hysterically. Another artillery wave was unleashed, and the inhumans flew back.

  My rifle cracked with the volley before we crouched once more as trained Robert himself was cracking he looked around frantically before attempting to dash away only to be slammed against the wall by the Sergeant, Saber in hand.

  "YOU DARE RUN!?" The Sergeant accused, his Saber digging into Robert's chest, who frantically shook his head. Finally, the Sergeant let go. Robert slid down the wall, reloading his rifle with trembling hands.

  We fired and dropped like the good soldiers we were expected to be. We opened the trapdoor breech on the rifle, loaded a new bullet cocked the hammer, and fired without pity on the enemy.

  As we rose once rifles aimed at the elves were close. Close enough to see their face now many were absolutely terrified others yelled and swung their weapons but never got close as our volley ripped through their line.

  As we crouched and listened to the other volley, reloading our rifle amidst the chaos of noise, the Captain's voice rang out.

  "HERE THEY ARE! STOP THE RUSH DAMMIT!"

  As we rose once more, the elves were close, and many men began to falter, attempting to fall back only to be pushed back into the line.

  We fired once more, a new line of dead near our defenses as the elves came towards us waving their weapons. We were shoved shoulder to shoulder in a tight line, bayonets fixed outwards.

  And when the inhuman army got close we raised our rifles like spears the inhumans now a handful of their initial attack attempted to push through our rifles and in that moment a man who stood to my left side, skull was smashed inward from a Warhammer his brain leaking out his skull, his body slumping on the wooden wall the elves were so desperately now trying to break.

  Steel clashing with steel, orders against orders, blood against blood, these sounds repeated nonstop unique yet all the same. I thrust my bayonet blindly feeling only the wind until the warm spill splashed on my hand a Inhuman Warrior a bayonet now lodged in his chest which continued to pump blood as he tried to pull it out of himself screaming in agony before going limp on my rifle and slowly sliding to the floor.

  Another inhuman met the Captain's revolver, the barrel slamming onto its forehead before its head exploded into a mesh of flesh and bone.

  A horn sounded once more, and I watched the inhumans pull back and begin to run desperately in retreat.

  "FIRE!" The captain ordered, we made haste reloading and firing in quick session watching as inhuman fell one by one like rats to poison.

  Another artillery volley ripped through killing any who remained. And once the few silhouettes remained faded, we heard the loud sounds of the trumpets. A final order.

  "CEASEFIRE!" Echoed throughout the ranks. We lowered our rifles, panting and heaving. I glanced down at my hands, now stained in the blood of various people and things, my rifle missing its wooden color and now stained dark red.

  We pulled off our bayonets, wiping the blood on the snow and sheathing them.

  "Good work, men! Look at the bastards run!" The captain chuckled and wiped his face free of blood. And as I looked at no man's land, all I saw were puddles of blood, corpses so mangled by artillery body parts spread in different areas yet still held together by flesh or intestines, limbs in places they shouldn't be, corpses now freezing in the cold, Holes filled the ground, and amidst the smoke, I saw figures crawling and twitching.

  Thousands were dead on the snow. Many were still crying out in a different language, yet the sound of a man begging for mercy was understandable no matter the tongue.

  Finally, the stiff line broke as Robert slid down the wooden wall, his eyes staring into nowhere. I soon followed.

  Ramon found us soon alongside Clint, who had a faint smile.

  We sat together in silence. The whole army was silent with only the sound of the wind and the dying being heard.

  "B COMPANY! Roll call!" The captain called out and began to list names.

  For the most part, everyone came out fine. We had suffered twenty-three estimated deaths in the company among the wounded. Yet hundreds perhaps thousand elven dead lay. From here, I watched the officers make a toast celebrating the win. Others mocked the dead elves. Yet for hours, I dared not move. I felt like I couldn't.

  Hours passed, and the day was almost night.

  We spent time fixing the barricades and picking up the dead. Many had died from unlucky stabbings or puncture wounds. The medical camp was now flooded as wounded seeking attention fought to see the surgeon.

  We laid the corpses all in one pile, their bodies now blue and frozen stiff.

  The inhuman dead that were close were thrown off the mountain or used for fire.

  The smell of the corpses was horid but it was the only thing we had to stay warm. We stood by the fire watching as skin and cloth melted and fused into one lump of dead.

  And late into the night, the trumpets pattern to be alert sounded. We rose and aimed but watched. Watched as what seemed like leaders argued on the inhuman side. We stood stiff for an hour until a large detachment of the inhuman army retreated. Others stayed.

  "Any idea?" I asked Ramon, who shook his head and muttered.

  "Odd. Looks almost like mutiny. All I know is that there are fewer savages left to deal with."

  I nodded. We stayed in position for ten more minutes until we were allowed to rest.

  And that entire night, all I heard was chattering coming from our officers. Cries from the wounded on both sides and the sound of birds of prey who feast on the dead.