CH 1: The disappearance of an Empire

--oOo--

It's 1939, the renowned Valkyrien Empire set its sights on the northern territories, driven by an ambition to unify the entire continent of Astarte a land steeped in centuries of warfare and conflict. This ancient continent had been scarred by endless battles, its history marked by the rise and fall of nations, and the Empire sought to bring it all under one banner.

--oOo--

--date, September 7 1939. Night--

--18km from the battlefield between Valkyries forces and their adversaries--

It was dark... The cold air gnawed at the faces of the soldiers, carrying the acrid stench of gunpowder mixed with the faint, metallic tang of blood. Eighteen kilometers from the main battlefield, an artillery officer paced back and forth in the freezing night, his grey uniform blending with the dim landscape. His boots crunched against the frost-covered ground as he clutched a comms, a small communication device buzzing with static, his only lifeline to the chaos unraveling on the front lines beyond the horizon.

"We need artillery support, now!!" a desperate voice crackled through the device, barely audible over the distant thunder of gunfire and explosions.

The officer exhaled, his breath clouding in the icy air. He pressed the comms closer to his ear, his face hardening into a grim mask of focus. "Send me the coordinates," he replied, his voice calm but laced with urgency.

A pause. Then, the voice on the other end spat out a string of numbers and letters-enemy positions. The officer quickly memorized them, his mind working with practiced precision. He stowed the manacom inside his coat and turned sharply on his heel, his voice cutting through the cold night like a whip.

"Coordinates received! Ready the howitzers!" he shouted, his command reverberating across the snow-dusted field.

The artillery crews, veterans of countless battles, moved with the precise coordination of a well-oiled machine. With efficient, deliberate movements, they loaded the massive, shells into the yawning mouths of the howitzers. These shells were not mere explosives- they had the power to tear through the earth, ripping apart both terrain and enemy forces in their wake.

The crew signaled their readiness one by one, the howitzers now poised like steel beasts ready to unleash their destructive fury. The officer raised his hand, eyes fixed on the distant battlefield, where war raged unseen under the night sky. He waited for the perfect moment, then brought his hand down in a swift, decisive gesture.

"Fire!"

The howitzers roared to life, their barrels glowing with a fiery orange hue as the shells were hurled into the sky. The ground trembled with the force of their release, and for a brief moment, it seemed as though the very air held its breath.

--oOo--

--date, September 7 1939. Late Night--

--The Northern Front, the front lines--

The artillery shells screamed through the dark sky, their descent punctuated by a growing, ominous whistle that rose to a deafening crescendo. When they hit, the earth groaned beneath the impact, and the battlefield exploded into chaos. Flames erupted from the ground, fire and shrapnel tearing through anything in their path, transforming the landscape into a hellish wasteland.

The trees, once tall and proud, were shattered and broken-mere skeletal remains that swayed under the force of the blasts. The ground, once firm and frozen, was churned into a nightmarish mixture of mud, blood, and debris. Trenches, dug deep by desperate hands, were obliterated, now nothing more than shallow graves for the unlucky soldiers caught in the bombardment.

Amid the inferno of battle-gunfire crackling like lightning, the screams of the wounded and dying mingling with the thunder of artillery-a lone Valkyrein soldier crouched in a crater, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He was cut off from his squad, stranded in the chaos, surrounded only by the bodies of fallen comrades and the oppressive cold surroundings.

His grey uniform, once crisp and orderly, was now soaked through with mud and blood, clinging to his skin. His fingers, nearly numb from the cold, clutched his sniper rifle tightly, the metal biting into his palms as he squinted over the lip of the crater. His trained eyes scanned the devastation, ever watchful for enemy movement.

Through the smoke and darkness, he spotted a figure-the unmistakable outline of an enemy soldier, likely from Warsaw, one of Colista's staunch allies. The enemy was firing blindly into the trenches, unaware that a crosshair was already trained on his silhouette.

With a sharp exhale, the Valkyrein soldier squeezed the trigger. The rifle bucked against his shoulder with a loud crack, sending a high-velocity round hurtling toward the target. The bullet, guided by both skill and the cruel whims of the wind, veered slightly off course. Instead of striking the enemy's chest, it found the soft flesh of his neck.

With a sickening crunch, the enemy's head was violently ripped from his body, spinning wildly before it hit the ground. The soldier barely had time to process the gruesome sight before he ducked back into the crater, quickly reloading his rifle.

As he slammed a fresh round into the chamber, an artillery shell detonated nearby, the force of the explosion sending a shockwave through the ground. Dirt and debris rained down into the crater. He flinched, realizing just how close he'd come to death. "Damn it," he muttered under his breath, his voice barely audible over the persistent ringing in his ears.

His hands trembled as he reloaded, but he forced himself to remain steady, his focus narrowing on the battlefield once more. Through the thick smoke, he spotted another enemy soldier, this time wearing the desert-patterned uniform of a Colistan fighter. The soldier moved cautiously, unaware that death was once again lurking.

The Valkyrein soldier aimed carefully, taking his time to line up the shot. The enemy ducked just as the sniper was about to pull the trigger, a stroke of luck that saved him. But it wasn't long before another enemy appeared in his sights.

This time, the sniper didn't miss. The shot rang out, the bullet finding its mark in the soldier's chest, collapsing him to the ground as the life drained from his body. The sniper's expression remained cold, unaffected by the kill. It was simply another task in a long, grim list of duties.

Suddenly, another Valkyrein soldier slid into the crater beside him, panting heavily. "This is insane!" the new arrival exclaimed, his voice edged with panic.

"Bloody hell it is" the soldier muttered, his eyes still scanning for more targets.

Before he could line up his next shot, the enemy spotted him. A bullet whizzed past, narrowly missing his head and embedding itself into the frozen ground behind him. "Shit!" he cursed, immediately ducking lower into the crater as dirt and snow sprayed around him.

The sniper pressed himself against the muddy walls, his heart pounding in his chest. His breath came in short, controlled bursts as he tried to steady the adrenaline surging through him. "They probably already have spotted us," he whispered, teeth clenched. "We need to move."

His comrade peeked over the edge of the crater, but just as he did, a bright flash of light illuminated the trench line. A second later, a sharp crack echoed through the air. The sniper barely had time to register the sound before his comrade's head jerked back, blood and bone splattering the crater in a grisly spray. The soldier crumpled to the ground, his face frozen in a mask of shock.

"Ah, fuck!" the sniper shouted, recoiling in horror. He had no time to mourn as another round of fire struck just inches from where he had been. Instinct took over, and he rolled to his side, narrowly avoiding the magic-infused bullet that sizzled through the air, leaving a faint trail of smoke.

"Y'all are gonna pay for that," he growled, his voice thick with anger. But he knew he couldn't stay here. He was pinned, and the enemy knew his position. Every second he remained in the crater increased the odds that he'd be the next body on the ground.

Crawling carefully, he used the scattered debris and bodies around him for cover as he scanned the battlefield for a new vantage point. Through the haze of battle, he saw enemy tanks advancing, their steel hulks grinding the earth beneath them. Enemy infantry followed in their wake, using the tanks as mobile cover as they pressed closer to the Valkyrein lines.

"Geez..." the sniper muttered to himself, realizing the gravity of the situation. His rifle was useless against the armored behemoths rumbling toward their position. He needed to find a weakness, something he could target to stall their advance.

Through the swirling smoke, he spotted an enemy soldier sprinting toward one of the tanks. Quickly adjusting his aim, the sniper focused on the soldier's chest, waiting for the perfect moment. "Bang!" The shot rang out, the bullet cutting through the cold air. The enemy soldier crumpled to the ground, but the tanks showed no sign of stopping.

Then, with a low rumble, the turret of one of the tanks swung toward him, the massive barrel now pointed directly at his crater.

"Shit, shit, shit!" The sniper scrambled to his feet, abandoning his position just as the tank fired. The ground where he'd been moments ago exploded, sending a geyser of dirt and fire into the air. The blast threw him off his feet, and he hit the ground hard, skidding through the mud.

As he stood up a bullet seared through his shoulder, and he felt the hot trickle of blood running down his back. "Ah, damn!" he groaned, clutching at the wound. The pain was sharp, a burning ache that threatened to overwhelm him. Blood soaked through his grey uniform, pooling beneath him in the cold mud. He tried to push himself up, but his strength was failing each movement sending another wave of agony through his body.

"Ahh guess that's it for me?" he muttered bitterly under his breath. His vision blurred as the sounds of battle seemed to fade, replaced by a hollow ringing in his ears. The irony wasn't lost on him. After all the lives he had taken, all the battles he had survived, it would end here, in a freezing, desolate crater far from home.

The crack of boots on the frozen ground brought him back to the present. He turned his head, expecting to see an enemy soldier, rifle aimed to finish him off. But instead, he saw a figure moving quickly toward him. A Valkyrein medic, identifiable by the red insignia on his coat, rushed over, his expression grim but focused.

"Don't worry, I've got you," the medic shouted over the din of battle, his voice steady despite the chaos. He crouched down beside the sniper, slipping his arms under his shoulders and dragging him toward the relative safety of the trenches.

The sniper bit down hard on his lip to keep from crying out as his wounded shoulder was jostled. Each movement felt like fire coursing through his veins, but he forced himself to remain silent, focusing on the icy ground beneath him and the distant rumble of artillery.

They had made it halfway to the trench line when the medic suddenly stumbled. His grip tightened on the sniper for a brief moment before it slackened. The sniper turned, his blood running cold as he saw a dark stain spreading across the medic's chest. A bullet had punched clean through him, blood gushing out in thick rivulets.

"No... hell!" the soldier shouted, helplessly as the medic collapsed into the mud, his body limp and lifeless. For a moment, the sniper could only stare, his mind struggling to process what had just happened. He had been saved only to lose the man who had risked his life to help him.

The weight of despair pressed down on him like a physical force. He was alone again, pinned down in the middle of the battlefield, surrounded by the dead and dying, the sounds of war closing in from all sides.

The ground shook with the approach of the enemy tanks, their steel hulks casting long shadows over the churned-up earth. Valkyrein soldiers scrambled to hold their positions, but the enemy was relentless, advancing with brutal efficiency. The sniper could hear the unmistakable grind of treads and the crack of infantry weapons as the enemy forces inched ever closer.

Then, out of nowhere, an explosion rocked the battlefield. The sniper's eyes widened as he watched one of the enemy tanks shudder violently, its armor glowing red-hot as a high-velocity shell punched through its front. Sparks flew as a second round slammed into the turret, sending a plume of fire shooting into the air. The tank exploded in a blinding flash, its metal carcass collapsing into the mud.

For a moment, the sniper blinked in disbelief. Reinforcements?

His question was answered by the deep rumble of engines growing louder in the distance. Through the smoke and haze, he saw them Valkyrein tanks, their massive forms cutting through the battlefield like silent titans. Their sleek, winter-camouflaged armor gleamed faintly in the low light, their cannons roaring to life as they fired on the advancing enemy.

The tide of battle had shifted. Valkyrein forces, emboldened by the arrival of heavy armor, began pushing back. The enemy lines faltered as their infantry were cut down and their tanks destroyed one by one.

But the sniper had no time to celebrate. His strength was fading fast, and his vision was beginning to blur again. He heard the sound of boots approaching once more and braced himself, expecting the worst. But when he looked up, he saw another medic sprinting toward him. This one moved with purpose, his face set in determined grimness.

"Stay with me!" the medic commanded as he reached the soldier, quickly checking the wound. Without hesitation, the medic grabbed him under the arms and started dragging him toward the trench. The sniper clenched his teeth, trying to ignore the searing pain as he was moved through the chaos.

This time, they made it to the trenches.

The soldier collapsed into the relative safety of the trench, his body shaking from pain and exhaustion. The medic wasted no time, laying him down on a makeshift stretcher before tearing open his coat to assess the wound.

"Hold on soldier," the medic muttered as he began his work. His hands moved swiftly, pulling out bangades and supplies, he began wrapping his injured while the soldier groaned in agony.

"Agh too tight!" The soldier exclaimed,

"Woops sorry bout that," the medic quickly re-adjusting the bandages "there is that alright?" The medic asked.

The soldier nodded the pain was still agonizing, he could feel the sharp pulses from the wound cursing through his body

The medic nodded, his expression softening slightly as he wiped the sweat from his brow. "You'll be alright, but we need to get you out of here. To get some proper treatment."

The soldier nodded weakly, glancing around the trench. Valkyrein soldiers were hunkered down, their faces grim as they prepared for the next wave of enemy assault. The tanks had bought them time, but the enemy was relentless, and it was clear that the fight was far from over.

Suddenly, the ground shook violently as a fresh barrage of artillery shells slammed into the earth nearby. The trench walls shuddered, snow and dirt cascading down as the soldiers braced for the next impact.

"Move, move!" an officer shouted, his voice barely audible over the din of war. "We hold this line until reinforcements arrive!"

The medic helped the soldier to his feet, supporting him as they staggered through the trench. Around them, soldiers frantically reloaded their rifles, readied their magical weapons, and tended to the wounded.

As they moved deeper into the trench, the sniper couldn't help but notice the bodies of fallen comrades, half-buried in the blood-soaked snow. Some lay with their eyes open, staring blankly at the sky, while others were missing limbs or worse. The sight sent a chill down his spine a reminder of the cold, unforgiving reality of war.

Another explosion rocked the trench, and the medic yanked the sniper down just in time as a spray of shrapnel whizzed overhead. They both crouched low, covered in mud, waiting for the barrage to pass.

"We have to keep moving," the medic urged, his voice tight with tension. "The secondary line isn't far. Once we get there, you'll be safe. But we have to go now."

The sniper nodded, pushing through the pain as he stumbled forward. His body screamed in protest, every step sending sharp jolts through his shoulder, but he forced himself to keep moving. He had no other choice.

Through the smoke and chaos, they finally reached the secondary trench, where a group of Valkyrein soldiers were regrouping, preparing for another push. An officer, his face set in a stern frown, waved them over.

"Get him to the rear, now!" the officer barked at the medic. "We'll cover you!"

The medic nodded and began leading the sniper down a narrow path, but before they could take more than a few steps, another explosion tore through the air. The blast knocked the sniper off his feet, slamming him into the ground. He gasped, his vision swimming as he tried to push himself up. The medic was by his side in an instant, pulling him back to his feet, urgency written across his face.

"Come on, we've got to move!" the medic urged, his voice barely audible through the ringing in the sniper's ears.

They stumbled forward, the battlefield a blur of noise, smoke, and death around them. But the sniper knew they couldn't stop. Not now. Not when survival was still within reach.

Finally, they reached the rear lines. The sniper collapsed into the mud, utterly spent. But even as he lay there, breathing heavily, he could still hear the roar of battle. It was far from over, but for now, at least, he had survived.

As the medic worked to stabilize him, the sniper's thoughts drifted, the exhaustion taking hold. He closed his eyes, letting the sounds of war fade into the distance.

--oOo--

--date, September 7 1939. Late at Night--

--Sometime Later--

The sniper winced, sucking in a sharp breath as another wave of pain surged through his side. His fingers gently traced the edges of the bandage wrapped tightly around his torso, the sting of his half-healed wound a constant reminder of his near-death experience.

"Agh, fuck this hurts" he exclaimed, his voice strained as he shifted his position on the second lines of trenches, trying to find a position that didn't aggravate the injury.

The medic barely looked up from his supplies, his hands moving with efficient precision as he packed away various instruments and vials. "Of course it does," he replied, his tone dry and flat, as if this were just another routine day. "Your injury is just a scratch compared to the other men I treated."

The sniper's curiosity piqued, despite the gnawing ache in his side. "Scratch?" His voice dropped an octave, a mix of dread and interest coloring his words. "Like what?"

The medic raised an eyebrow, hesitating for a moment as if debating whether to tell him. "You sure you want to know? It's not exactly bedtime story material," he warned, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

"Just tell me," the sniper insisted, though part of him was already regretting his curiosity. He could feel his stomach tightening, bracing for whatever horror she was about to share.

The medic rubbed his chin thoughtfully before leaning in slightly, her voice lowering as if sharing a dark secret. "Alright, don't say I didn't warn you," he muttered. "There was this one time, a soldier came in, holding his intestines in his hands, trying to push them back into his belly-"

Before he could finish, the sniper's face turned a sickly shade of white, and he doubled over, retching violently. His body convulsed, bile rising in his throat as he vomited, the grotesque imagery too much to handle.

"What in the name of all that's holy!!?" he gasped between coughs, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth, his face a mask of shock and revulsion.

The medic chuckled softly, his tone amused but not unsympathetic. "Told ya. Too graphic," he said, resuming his calm demeanor as if discussing such horrors was just another day on the job. "But you did ask."

"You didn't mention it was going to be that gory!" the sniper grumbled as he leaned back against a cold tree, his expression a mix of disbelief and lingering nausea. "Why would you describe it like that?"

"Consider it a distraction from your own pain," the medic replied with a casual shrug, his fingers deftly tying off the last of his bandages. glanced at him with a knowing look. "Trust me, in this line of work, you learn to find humor in the worst places."

The sniper groaned, rubbing his temples as if trying to erase the mental image. "God, I wish I hadn't asked," he muttered.

Around them, the distant rumble of artillery continued, the occasional crack of gunfire reminding them that the war raged on just below their feet. The smoke from the battlefield was visible even from this distance,

The sniper's eyes narrowed as he peered through the skies above, the devastation unfolded far on the horizon. "At least we're out of it for now," he murmured, though there was a bitterness in his tone. He knew better than to trust the fleeting moments of peace.

Suddenly, a rhythmic whup-whup-whup filled the air, growing louder with each passing second. The distinct sound of helicopter blades slicing through the sky cut through the noise of battle, drawing everyone's attention.

The medic stood up, craning his neck as she glanced at the skies above. "Ah, that's the medivac," she said, relief evident in her voice. "Looks like we're finally getting out of here."

The sniper winced as he shifted to his feet, clutching his side where the wound still throbbed with every movement. "About damn time," he muttered, squinting up at the sky to spot the approaching helicopter.

Sure enough, a Valkyrien military helicopter appeared on the horizon, its massive frame gleaming in the dull light of the overcast sky. The sleek, reinforced metal exterior reflected the dying sunlight, and glowing arcane runes etched into its hull faintly shimmered, boosting its flight capabilities.

The helicopter descended rapidly, the wind from its rotors whipping through the trees and stirring up clouds of dust and debris. The sniper raised an arm to shield his eyes, the powerful gusts pushing at his already fatigued body. The aircraft touched down with a heavy thud, the landing gear sinking slightly into the churned earth.

The side door slid open with a metallic scrape, and a soldier inside waved them over urgently. "Let's go! Get in!" he shouted over the deafening roar of the rotor blades.

The medic slung his pack over his shoulder, giving the sniper a quick once-over before nudging him forward. "Come on, soldier. Time to get out of this hellhole."

The sniper limped toward the helicopter, each step sending sharp jolts of pain through his side. His legs felt like lead, exhaustion weighing down every movement. With the medic's help, he managed to climb aboard, settling into one of the seats, his body sagging with relief.

The interior of the helicopter was cramped, the metal walls vibrating with the rhythmic hum of the engines. A few other soldiers were inside, their faces drawn and pale, each bearing their own scars from the battlefield. The air inside was thick with tension, a palpable mix of exhaustion and silent anticipation.

As the helicopter lifted off, the sniper glanced out the window, watching as the war-torn landscape shrank beneath them, the smoke and fire fading into the distance. He closed his eyes briefly, letting the steady thrum of the rotor blades lull him into a sense of temporary calm.

Beside him, the medic finally removed her helmet, revealing a woman with short, dark grey hair. She ran a hand through her disheveled locks, breathing a sigh of relief as she leaned back in her seat. "Ah, that's better," she muttered to herself, placing the helmet on the floor with a soft clatter.

The soldier blinked, surprised. "Well... that's unexpected," he murmured under his breath, though the medic's sharp hearing caught his comment.

She raised an eyebrow, a teasing smirk curling at her lips. "What, didn't expect a woman? Certainly not a man in this role, huh?" She leaned slightly closer, her tone light but playful.

The sniper shifted uncomfortably, holding up a hand in defense. "Woah, woah, just surprised," he stammered. "Didn't mean anything by it."

Her smirk widened as she leaned back, clearly amused by his discomfort. "Relax, I'm just messing with you."

A brief silence fell between them, the helicopter now cutting through the clouds at a steady pace. The medic turned to him after a moment, her tone softening. "So, what's your name, anyway?"

The sniper glanced at her, his expression neutral but guarded. "Grisan," he replied, his voice low and steady.

"Grisan?" she repeated, her curiosity piqued. "Well, Grisan, I'm Kristen," she said, her voice carrying a hint of warmth beneath the exhaustion.

Before their conversation could go any further, a strange sound began to rise over the whine of the rotors. The air outside the helicopter seemed to shift, growing heavy and turbulent. The wind picked up, howling through the trees below, bending their branches violently.

"Eh?" The co-pilot frowned, his hands gripping the controls more tightly as the helicopter started to wobble. "What the hell's going on?"

Grisan's eyes widened as he felt the shift in the air pressure. He could see the winds outside growing stronger, whipping the leaves from the trees below into a violent spiral. "What the bloody hell..?"

"I don't know, but this isn't normal," the co-pilot muttered, his voice rising in confusion. "There wasn't any storm reported in the area!"

The wind roared louder, battering the helicopter with increasing force. The craft shuddered violently as if nature itself was trying to tear it from the sky. The pilot gritted his teeth, struggling to keep the helicopter steady.

"Guys, this doesn't feel right!" The gunner shouted, gripping the machine gun as the helicopter lurched dangerously to one side.

"A storm?!" Kristen shouted, her voice trembling with disbelief.

"There's no storm reported in these areas!" The co-pilot yelled over the growing turbulence, His voice was tence, panic beginning to creep into his usually steady tone. "This isn't normal weather. Something is definitely wrong here!"

Grisan glanced out of the window, watching as the landscape below blurred from the rapid motion of the helicopter. Trees bent and snapped under the unnatural force of the wind, and the sky seemed to darken as if heavy clouds had materialized out of nowhere. His heart raced, but years of military kept his thoughts sharp.

"So then what's causing this!?" Kristen shouted, her eyes wide with worry. She was normally composed, but now she gripped the armrests tightly, knuckles turning white.

The helicopter continues to rock violently, they could hear the winds howl get louder as if responding to Kristen's question. "Fuck!" The pilot cursed as he wrestled with the controls, sweat pouring down his forehead like a fountain. "These winds are too powerful to be natural.. something is trying to kill us here!!"

Suddenly the entire helicopter jolted, sending everyone lurching forward of their seats, Grisan was thrown to a closed door of the side of the helicopter, a sharp pain occurring in his shoulder's not fully healed wound, he gritted his teeth to avoid crying out as he fought the pain.

The helicopter then shudders once more, and grisan was thrown yet again, his head hitting the walls of the chopper knocking him unconscious.

--oOo--

--date, September 7 1939. Late at Night--

cross his mouth, his face a mask of shock and revulsion.