INTRO SONG: Kono Sekai e Moeru

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There was severe coughing coming from the attic as Max's father came down the ladder with a pair of browning old boxes stacked one upon the other. Max reached out to help his father while his mother 'tut tutted' behind him due to the sheer amount of dust gently spreading downward like a cloud from the ceiling.

"I will go get the vacuum", his mother declared, "And Hermann dear, you better dust yourself outside, NOW! Or else I am throwing both the clothes and you into the washing machine!"

"Maaax. Your mother is bullying me!", his father complained to which Max only chuckled in reply.

Grumbling, Hermann went outside to do as he was told while Max used a wet cloth to wipe the dust off the boxes. He had seen these boxes as a kid playing upstairs in the attic with his cousins but he had never known they contained the entire life story of his grandfather in them. Lifting one lid off slowly, the first thing that greeted his eyes was an old black and white photo of a group of men obviously in German military uniforms from the 2nd world war. They were lounging around a dead campfire in a rough circle next to a tank, and from the looks of it, was undergoing repairs by its crew. Flipping the photo to the back, the unmistakable handwriting of his grandfather can be seen.

> Quote:'25. Juni 1943. Sommers. Russland' <25 June 1943. Summer. Russia>

> 'Nahkampfspange in Gold'

Piquing his interest, he returned back to the front of the photo to look for the familiar face of his grandfather, however the only person who caught his eye was that of a beautiful smiling man wrapping one arm around one of the dusty figures while he had the other hand over his left breast pocket, fingers grasping on a long horizontal looking medal which was tugged forward from his chest. Something about the man and the way he acted, made Max blink repeatedly in disbelief.

"Unbelievable, isn't it?", His mother said over his shoulder as Max turned at her voice.

"Mother… surely, this can't be…"

"It sure is. THAT is Gerhard von Natzmer. I believe he was 22 years of age at the time", his mother smiled as she continued, "I remembered when your father first introduced me to him. Even at his advancing age, he emitted a charm that drew women to him like wild maddened bears to honey. Your poor grandmother had a hard time keeping them away from him", she laughed.

"Almost exactly like your father", she stuck her tongue out at Hermann who finally returned to the study room.

"Huh? What? What did I do?"

"Exactly! You didn’t do anything!", she harrumphed.

When Hermann's eyes alighted upon the old photograph, he suddenly grinned as he stood next to Max. "I don’t suppose you know what it means to get one of those medals do you, Max?"

Max could only shake his head as his father then offered him another question.

"Out of the 20 million men who served in the Wehrmacht how many do you think was awarded this particular medal?"

Thinking briefly, Max roughly posited, "40,000?"

"Well if you were thinking of the Bronze version then you are close. This medal is awarded for exactly what it is named for. Close combat. 15+ battles for Bronze. 25+ battles for Silver. 50+ battles for Gold."

Hermann smiled as he traced the medal on the photographed fondly before he continued, "Only 631 such medals were ever awarded. It was more highly prized than even a Ritterkreuz which, by the way, was also awarded to him and should be around this box somewhere. But as I was saying, YOUR grandfather had survived 73 battles of brutal hand to hand combat. "

"Which means", suddenly wrapping his arms around his son's neck, and knuckling him roughly on the head, "he is one tough bastard".

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Gerhard woke up fitfully from his sleep, the dream was as always ebbing away before he can catch hold of it only for him to see that dawn was barely rising over the cloudless horizon. The sound of snoring could be heard all around him as he quietly got up to stretch sore muscles caused from the rough cold ground, nodding once at the sentry who was freezing silently hidden up the foliage of a tree, before making his way closer to the campfire. Already the Denarion was up and about, a rank akin to Unterfeldwebel as Gerhard understood it and as such a man who was supposedly extremely capable. Stifling a yawn, he sat down opposite the Denarion and reached out for the ladle to scoop out some of the simmering soup that one of the men had prepared the night before.

The unit including Gerhard consisted only of 12 men, and though he was a special case, as he was applying for apprenticeship with a knight, technically he had to follow the commands of the Denarion until they had arrived at their destination. However considering the severity of the reports they were receiving from villages they had passed as they marched their way along the road, it seemed madness that only a single squad was being sent to reinforce the rapidly deteriorating situation. But that was all the capital could spare hugely due to the fact that a sizeable portion of the military had joined a punitive force led by a temporary knight named Darius. To which every single Orc across the border was exploiting Rosenheim's lack of manpower whilst human bandits were adding to the growing chaos in the countryside.

Nevertheless, they were making good time and to Gerhard's surprise he had also gained a new stat during the journey. In the initial few hours after they had set forth from Serabourg, Gerhard had begun humming as he usually does, which sounded so catchy that the fresh faced recruits in the unit grew interested and asked to learn the tune. Before long, he had taught them the German lyrics and they sang as they marched for hours on end and by the 7th day a message bar popped open for Gerhard.

*Tring!

New Stat: Singing

A talented singer that brings forth hidden depths of strength and courage from within oneself and allies. Easier to win a girl's heart.

Improves when you sing or compose a song.

Different songs may yield different benefits.

This caused Gerhard to raise an eyebrow in amusement though it didn’t curb his singing in the slightest. The march towards the frontier was more akin to a leisurely stroll in comparison to the pace that was demanded when he was a Soldate der deutschen Armee to which he found he could sing all he want and the men around him responded in kind. It was such a strange feeling, the sense of camaraderie he felt with these NPCs, who didn't even speak the same mother tongue as him and yet here they were laughing, joking and insulting each other with the familiarity of old comrades as the camp started to rouse awake.

But the mood became subdued as they approached the next village, with clear signs of battle damage everywhere. The roof of one house was caved in and smoke could still be seen rising from the ashes within whilst there were bodies of the villagers splayed haphazardly like broken dolls everywhere. The bodies already had flies swarming around them. The scene was so disconcertingly familiar to Gerhard that he felt bile rising in his throat, feeling almost like he was standing on the fields of the Eastern Front once again, where he passed the handiwork of German divisions that had long raced ahead towards Moscow. War was never pretty but the vile things that some of his compatriots did left a bad aftertaste in his mouth… though years later he would find himself in the same position.

The unit continued its march towards the centre of the village to which Gerhard felt that they should have sent scouts ahead but since he had no authority whatsoever, like a good former soldier he kept his mouth firmly shut. That didn’t mean he would be any less vigilant though as he kept his eyes constantly scanning the surroundings from the rear of the unit where he was stationed. Already the extensive destruction was forcing the unit to bunch up closer than he liked, that Gerhard intuitively tugged on the armour of the man in front to slow down and keep pace with him instead. The recruit looked extremely keyed up because of the situation but Gerhard just grinned and made a rude gesture to which the lad chuckled as his tension eased.

When they reached their objective a well located in a wide opened public square, the Denarion halted the column and after a cursory glance at his surroundings, signalled for the men to be at ease. However a weird smell was being emitted from the well and an alarmingly bad feeling was beginning to creep up along Gerhard's spine, so much so that before the man in front could yelp, Gerhard grabbed the soldier and literally threw him back into the rubble filled lane and promptly joined him. The rest of the unit could only look back askance at his behaviour, before the reason for it became quite apparent: a single fire arrow arching up into the air before pitching perfectly into the well. The Denarion and the men who had crowded around the well were instantly incinerated, as a cone of fire burst upward from within the opening of the well before the shock wave knocked the others to the ground. The ground rippled outwards from the epicentre before collapsing back inwards dragging a few more unlucky souls into its fiery depth as Gerhard exhaled all the breath from his body so as to not have his eardrums burst from the pressure.

When the explosion ran its course, all that could be heard were screams and cries of pain everywhere. Through the black hazy smoke a rain of arrows falling amongst the prone men of the unit could be seen. For a flickering moment, to Gerhard's eyes the scene became superimposed with that of the Siege of Stalingrad, where an entire German Army was destroyed in 5 months of gruelling combat, before reality reasserted itself and he stood up amidst the crossfire of arrows and ran into the maelstrom.

"Männer! Get up! Move, damn it!", Gerhard cried as he sprinted from one man to the other, checking to see if they were alright.

The raw recruits were either stunned or too frightened to move and Gerhard knew that they were going to be annihilated if he didn't do something drastic quickly. Dragging one limp body back into cover, he yelled to the cowering recruit who was unhurt due to Gerhard's actions before, "Look after him!", and then he took off into the direction of the buildings surrounding the square.

Kicking a door down, Gerhard leapt in and rolled, avoiding a sword swing to his face before righting back up and stabbing the sword into the mob's back.

Critical Hit!

A brief look showed that it was a human, probably one of the bandits plaguing the area but because of the brown clothing and armour he was wearing, Gerhard once again felt like he was transported to a different place and time, the face of a Russian boy soldier he had bayoneted trying to feebly force the blade out. Only the sound of screaming outside brought him back to his senses, and he pulled the blade out of the limp body. The reason why Gerhard could instantly kill the mob was quite simple, his gear and basic training. The gifts given to him by his fan girls were not only attractive; it also boosted up his already formidable stats.

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Racing up the stairs, he found some of the archers firing down unto the street, all in the same brown colour scheme and Gerhard could already feel that he was mentally drifting away. Before it could happen he bulldozed into the centre of the group and swung his sword like a madman. He had always known that he was no longer quite the same man from before the war, that somewhere along the line he had become broken, gone a little crazy. He never went skiing with his family because the snow reminded him too much of Russia, or would always be alert out in parks during a family picnic. Maybe one cannot escape the trauma etched unto your soul, but in the here and now it was interfering with his duties. And that was to save those recruits outside, the fact that they were NPCs mattered not. For Gerhard was once a commanding officer within the Großdeutschland division and he will be damned if he let men die pointlessly under his watch.

And so, Gerhard began to sing, something he never did in reality, in battle, back in World War 2. He sang to focus his mind on the here and now, to see his enemies for who they were, not the brave Russian soldiers of his memories, but vile bandits who had slaughtered an entire village for personal gain. He sang to beat back the Terror of Death, even though in his head he knew that this is only a game, his heart and soul responded by quickening his movements, strength flowing through his limbs just as it did all those years ago, in another place, in another time. When it was over, Gerhard was the only one left standing, splattered in the blood of his enemies but multiple message bubbles began appearing one after the other.

*Ding!

You've leveled up!

You've leveled up!

You've leveled up!

You've leveled up!

Charisma has risen by 3 points (+3 CHR)

Class Change!

You can convert to a secret class Sword Singer. If you accept it, you can learn exclusive skills for the class that are withheld from the primary classes.

Do you want to convert to Sword Singer?

Gerhard just shrugged and replied, "I accept". One class is as good as any is how he truly felt, and another message bubble popped up.

You've levelled up!

Level up:

Sword Mastery[5]

+50% STR

+15% Agility

Skill:

You acquired a new skill, Sword Song

SKILLS WINDOWPassiveForced MarchLv.1 (0%)When singing whilst in an allied group of more than 5, movement speed is increased to all members due to your motivating song

+ 5%Herald of the KingLv.1 (0%)When singing whilst in an allied group of more than 5, your leadership is increased temporarily.

+ 2 minsLord of BattlesLv.1 (0%)When singing whilst in an allied group of more than 5, attack power is increased to all members due to your motivating song. Additional effects on your sword mastery.

+ 5%Sword MasteryLv.5 (78%)Increases attack power and speed for equipping a sword.ActiveSword SongLv.1 (0%)Increases attack speed and critical chance. If leadership higher than opponents, additional effect of 'slowed' is applied on enemies.

Mana consumption: 40 per second

Instead of wasting time reading what he had gained, Gerhard closed the screen, gripped the handle of his sword tightly, before moving into the next building. He had comrades to save.

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6 July, 1942.

Crossing of the Don, Assault on Voronezh City

*Fhwipp* *Fhwipp* *Fhwipp* *Fhwipp*

Bullets constantly flew through the air as the men of the recently rebuilt Großdeutschland, now an entire division of thousands, which were formed from the sixty survivors of the winter battles of 1941, were paddling desperately hard on overcrowded rubber boats towards the opposite shore, where the heavily defended riverbank suburbs of Voronezh awaits. Comprising of poor low huddled homes interspersed with a few towering stone or brick buildings; the entire area was being blanketed by bombardment by German air and artillery support units, plumes of dirt rising up constantly in a never ending stream of intervals that it looked like a fireworks display on the ground. If you can ignore the screams, flying shrapnel and debris that is.

The German assault force was meant to have landed north of the city, where they could reform and attack on foot, however, due to the fast river current, vast proportions of the rubber boats were being swept downriver… into the waiting guns of the Russian shore defence teams. Men were frantically ducking down as low as they could into the rubber dinghies, the occasional shout of pain followed by a gurgling blood filled gasp, or just the silence that comes when your life was ended instantly without you even knowing, was such a common scene on many boats. A few such ships would reach the far bank, leaking from numerous bullet holes… only for there to be no movement, the entire occupants lying dead in a rising pool of their own blood mixing with the water of the Don river.

There was only one area of relative calm on the shore, a beachhead having been established in the face of unrelenting gun and mortar fire from the entrenched Russians, German MG34 teams hosing the windows and any such openings with their machine guns to keep the Ivans heads down. Leaping from his boat that was punctured full of holes, the German soldier ran through the storm of lead, the sand from the riverbank kicking up all around him as he was spotted by the Russians, a bullet managing to score a deep rent in his metal helmet as he veered towards the side, happening to spot what he was looking for.

Diving into a ditch filled with groaning wounded soldiers, he crawled towards a man calmly listening in on the radio, marking locations on his map even as the air around him whistled with flying lead, the terrain they were in not providing even a rudimentary form of cover from enemy fire.

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"Herr Hauptmann! ", the man called out in greeting, before ducking face first into the dirt as the ground next to him puffed up from a passing bullet, "glad to see you are alive!", spitting sand out from his mouth.

"Welcome to the war, Karl", Gerhard waved vaguely in the direction of the enemy, "Feel free to win it for us"

"We are really in the shit, aren't we?!", Karl, his Sergeant laughed.

"…. Karl, we need to move. From what I can decipher from this mess on the radio, we have only managed to land in small pockets. Grab whoever you can find and pull some of the MG teams out of the sand", Gerhard then pointed towards a distant crumbling building, "I will grab some men and see you in there"

"Jawohl, Herr Hauptmann! ", Karl responded with a grin, scurrying backwards on his hands and knees before flipping over to lie on his back, "YOU! YOU! AND YOU!", pointing to several cowering soldiers, "GIVE THE HAUPTMANN A HAND! STOP CRYING YOU GIRL! LOSING A FINGER IS ONLY A FLESH WOUND!", before he then went off to locate the soldiers that his captain required.

By the time he had returned, Karl almost groaned in disbelief as he spotted his Captain and impromptu squad already racing across the open ground, Gerhard's distinctive war cry of "GROßDEUTSCHLAND!", piercing out and cutting through the ambience of war, as he barged into the building, sounds of gunfire erupting from within.

Turning to the men behind him Karl shouted out, "C'MON LADIES!! WE ARE NOT PAID BY THE HOUR! AUF GROßDEUTSCHLAND!  AUF AUF! FOLLOW THE HAUPTMANN!"

With a wild yell, the men chased after the Sergeant into the maelstrom, praying that the bullets would just pass them by… stumbling through into the building, Karl turned back to see a trail of dead comrades …. where obviously prayers had failed them.  Glancing about wildly, he found his Captain swiftly pulling out a bayonet from a Russian soldier… with the face of a youth. Gerhard's face was impassive, however, as Karl stood next to him saying, "They keep just getting younger don't they?"

"…That they do, Karl", Gerhard replied woodenly before asking, "You got the MG crews?"

"Signed, sealed", and thumbing over his shoulders, "and delivered. Excuse the bleeding, though"

"… I will excuse them for ruining their uniforms. Just for today", Gerhard grinned jokingly, although the smile did not reach his eyes, as the horrors of the day did not seemed like it would end anytime soon.

Turning to the machine gun crews, Gerhard called out, "Hoste! Take your gun and set it up over by that window", he pointed, the soldier doing as he was told instantly, flipping down the bipod of his weapon to allow it to sit on the windowsill, whilst his loader feeds the ammunition belt into the breech of the gun.

"Dietl! Tomas! Your crews follow me from behind and set up where the Unterfeldwebel directs!", Gerhard finished.

This left Gerhard with just seven men for his crazed assault… but someone had to do it. Kicking down the door at the back of the building, Gerhard shouted, " GROßDEUTSCHLAND!", and leapt through, bullet holes appearing around the doorframe from enemy fire as the men followed willingly to save their comrades, trapped along the river bank.  

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Ending Song: Gentle Light

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