First death (2)

But the truth is that reality has not been as sweet as his fantasies, when he entered the Tower of Dreams to begin his military training to learn how to fight and survive all kinds of hellish situations, the only thing waiting for him was hell. He had been called here to serve as a front-line soldier in a war against an invasion of nightmarish creatures.

When he realized his situation, he knew right away that he was going to shit his breakfast in his pants.

He was just an anonymous and unimportant face lost among the legions of soldiers, used as mere cannon fodder and condemned to fight on the front lines of this impossible war far beyond what reason should have allowed, constrained by the influence of mind-control spells as much as by the call of the curse that weighed down on him.

"At least I was a beautiful anonymous face."

Since the barrier that protected the material world from outside influences had weakened, certain dark forces had awakened from their long sleep and had seized the opportunity to come out of the abyss. Fallen or forgotten gods had returned to dominate a world that had forsaken them, while giant servants or degenerate troops of those gods marched again upon this world. In some parts of the world, death itself was no longer a source of deliverance but a scourge, as the dead began to awaken from their eternal sleep to attack the living.

And in the midst of all these events, as if the situation was not bad enough, the Kingdom of Nightmares, the place where the immemorial fears, dreads and terrors of mortals lived, had begun to mix with the material world itself. Overnight, the nightmares that haunted the imagination of mortals had infiltrated the material realm, distorting the texture of reality.

Their nightmares had become real.

"Tsk. This world was seriously fucked up, even a small child would have been able to understand that! So what was the point of calling us?"

But after coming out of the Tower of Dreams, his mind had been indoctrinated and manipulated, they had filled his mind with stories of legendary rescues, heroic fighters, glory, and medals. Well.. even though in his case they didn't have to make a lot of effort for that, because he was pretty stupid and it was the kind of thing he had always wanted to do.

In any case, the war had never seemed so generous and full of promise. They, the Earthlings, were here, and they were going to save this world from destruction!

After all, weren't they born exactly for this kind of destiny? Who could protect the world better than them? And they might even become one of its many lords in thanksgiving for saving it! They were the Chosen Ones! So what did he have to fear? With his stronger physique, telepathic and telekinetic powers, it was going to be a walk in the park.

For the glory of mankind, he was going to be a fucking hero!

But fighting monstrosities wasn't exactly a distinguished career like he had been told. The casualty rate on the first day of battle was catastrophic. There was nothing glorious about seeing men, and more often than not boys, being torn to pieces and dismembered and devoured by horrible monsters, their cries being muffled only by the blood that gushed from their mouths to fill the helmets of their armor.

They were nothing more than mere animals thrown alive into a vicious giant meat grinder, who took pleasure in killing their prey in the worst possible way.

The promises of glory that had long been described to him had consisted mainly in crawling on the ground made muddy by blood and piss and then swimming in the entrails of the broken bodies, trying to remain as silent as possible, hiding under the bodies of unknown soldiers and desperately praying to the Gods that no monster would notice his presence. He had discovered the painful truth: his goal was not as great as saving the world, but it was to survive at all cost.

This war was nothing more than a stupid war of attrition in which no one could see an end. The Alliance of Kingdoms had sent the Earthlings as if their number were infinite to reclaim the lost territories, defend their territories, or explore territories immersed in the cursed mist and nightmare realms.

But their defeats outnumbered their victories, and no matter how many lands were regained or how many places were defended, each victory was only temporary, and at the cost of countless lives - irreplaceable lives - unlike the monsters that fell upon them in almost infinite numbers. Containing the threat was finally all they could hope for, despite the presence and the continuous call of billions of recruits on Earth.

And then one kingdom after another fell.

And them the Earthlings, despite their seemingly infinite numbers had finally ceased to be summoned when old, sick and children were the only humans to appear for invocations. It was clear to everyone that to continue would be a waste of the magical energy reserves of the gods and sorcerers. The reserve of cheap and tame cannon fodder had disappeared.

At the end of the war, the only peaceful places that existed were the ancient cities in the far east of the continent, protected as they were by powerful psychic concealment spells and located in places almost impossible to find. But even these had eventually disappeared one by one.

The last years he spent in the underground city was the most peaceful since his arrival here in Yvelmore. He had relearned to appreciate the pleasures of food and drink, even though the former was often rustic and the latter rare. Contact with other reasoned beings had been a source of pleasure once again. He had even had the opportunity to repeatedly savor the affection and warmth of women's embraces and had managed to spend a few rare nights without his nightmares haunting him.

This peace had almost succeeded in making him forget his painful memories, as well as the threats outside the walls: enemies in infinite numbers, and the dark mists that devour all the lands and oceans of this world.

They had not had any contact for 6 months had with another base or city, all their attempts to make communication through the weak telepathic networks woven by their sorcerers had remained silent, and their rare expeditions to explore territories that had not yet been engulfed by the dark mists had brought only sad news.