Harris Carron pulled the trigger of his bolt-action rifle, half wishing that he had been issued one of the new assault rifles instead of his buddy, Morton Cole. That worthy had sprayed all of his bullets in less than three seconds and had probably not hit the charging daemons more than a couple of times. There he was, a few cubits away, fumbling with his magazines.

Harris snorted in annoyance, even as his hands trembled and barely suppressed fear. The campaign to liberate the highlands had barely begun, and already, the forward positions were under assault. The entrenching tool, a shovel by any other name, was discarded next to him, and the ditch he’d been digging was barely knee-deep. Not that he thought it would do much good, since the daemons didn’t shoot bullets.

Hisss! Splat!

Then again, the gobs of acid were certainly much worse.

His target, a big fat red monkey, was just a hundred cubits away, and thankfully was fat enough that hitting it was easy. Hurting it was a much different proposition. He pulled the trigger again and again. The bullets struck his target but did little other than poke holes into its skin. But as the bullets continued to hit, whatever protection the monkey had seemed to fade and every bullet that hit after caused it to roar in both pain and anger.

Finally, when the beast was merely a dozen cubits from their position, and just when Harris was about to break and run, someone managed to shoot it between its eyes. The thing dropped straight down, and skidded to a halt.

Harris whipped his rifle to aim at another ape, but let out a gasp of relief when there were none left. The ape’s body lay on the mud, steam rising from its varied wounds. There were two other apes downed. One was almost at the line, while another was much farther back. Three apes, and it took a company of men, a hundred cubits clearance, and nearly a hundred shots from each man.

“That’s got, em, you think?” Morton growled, sounding like he was chewing a mouthful of cud.

“It’s down, innit?” Harris grumbled. “Not touching that thing.”

“Well, somebody’s got to make sure it's not breathing,” Morton continued.

“Private Cole! Make sure it’s dead!” The company commander, Lieutenant Archibald Daniels said. Lieutenant Dan, as he insisted on being called, pointed at Harris just as he started chuckling. “You too, Private Carron.”

“Yes, sir,” Harris said dully.

When they came close to the fallen ape, Harris noticed that its chest was rising and falling slowly. Well, aside from the fact that it wasn’t dust yet, that was more than enough evidence that the thing still lived. They’d been briefed, of course, but they didn’t say how long it took for the beasts to disintegrate.

Without another word, he raised his rifle, aimed it at the ape’s head, though he kept at least three cubits back, and unloaded the entire magazine.

He flinched when he heard the same sounds coming from two other points, and a quick glance told him his compatriots were also finishing off the other two apes. The one he shot at gave a rattling cough, then released a long wheeze. Then, parts of its fur started to flake off into dust and he assumed that was when the thing turned to ashes. The process seemed long and drawn out, however.

The two of them returned to their campsite. They were supposed to turn it into an outpost, but Harris felt that the position was too exposed. They were just off the main road, next to a small hill. The hilltop should include a watchpost, which would skyline it for kilocubits around. Then again, their foes weren’t soldiers armed with guns, but monstrous beasts that were tougher than tanks.

“Never in all my years in the army did I think we’ll campaign here in the motherland,” Morton grumbled. “You’re lucky to be young.”

Harris rolled his eyes, “Yeah, by a few minutes.”

The two of them had been born in the same neighbourhood, and they both enlisted in the same army recruitment office. Just before the war started, actually, so all the years Morton’d spent in the army amounted to less than one.

He chuckled and said, “Sure, ruin the melodrama.” His mirth quickly eclipsed, and he added, “Those buggers are tough. A couple more attacking and it would have reached us.”

“We’re not too close to the highlands,” Harris said, “and all we’ll get are the dregs getting through.”

“Well, I hope only the dregs get through at all. Here’s to the vanguard.”

The 3rd Engineering Company got back to work, clearing a plot of land and readying it to build fortifications. The General Staff’s overall strategy was to contain, then slowly eliminate the daemons, and as far as the grunts knew, they’d be in the sticks for quite some time.

A couple of days passed by, and the outpost grew to look more like a proper camp than a bivouac area. Sacks filled with dirt and sand formed walls around machine gun nests. Those should mow down the daemons, but Harris didn’t know how long they’d last. Munitions had been delivered to the camp, and stored. Those weren’t just for them but also for the rest of the battle group.

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The next day, a strange group was escorted into the camp. Theirs served as a way stop, too. It was a bunch of hardy-looking men, and strangely enough, women. Their uniforms were definitely not Karcellian, and their weapons looked more like toys than actual guns. He did recognize the blokes escorting them, though. Karcellian mages.

He unconsciously formed a ward sign with his fingers. Mages! He grew up with his mum telling him stories of those bogeys who meddled with the laws of creation and thought themselves gods.

But the mage didn’t look arrogant at all. If anything, he thought the lad was fresh out of the schoolyard, especially with how enthusiastic he was. The odd group numbered an even twenty, with about half looking like foreign soldiers and the other half looking like a mix between school teens and…

He frowned at the sight.

That woman didn’t have ears? Her head was covered with a hat, but it shifted oddly now and then as if something was pushing against it. Her hands were firmly at her sides though. And why were her pants moving? For that matter, why were the women wearing pants? Huh, the girls were taking over men’s fashions. He wasn’t sure if he liked it or not, but the trousers accentuated how their thighs looked. He gulped. Aside from his little sister and mum, he’d never caught a glimpse of a woman’s legs like that before.

He looked at the rest of the strange caravan. There were armoured cars there, and he wondered if the tanks would follow. Oh! Cannons. Three were being wheeled into position, and the other lads were prepping the ground to secure it.

His current duty was as sentry, and he really shouldn’t let himself get distracted. He stared at the lay of the land with his binoculars and swept the field. Nothing so far.

Hmmm. The buzzing sound of insects was loud today. Odd, it was already the Season of the Sylpheed. The buzzers should have all gone to ground by now.

The buzzing sound grew louder and louder. He looked around, but of course, he couldn’t see anything at all. Eventually, the buzzing died down, much to his relief. The rest of the afternoon passed quickly, and the caravan readied to leave.

It happened just as the armoured cars were about to leave, and dusk was upon them. Harris’s sentry schedule was just about done, and he was waiting for his reliever, when out of the ground, the shadows thickened, then drained away, revealing daemon apes by the dozen. They were less than a hundred cubits away, and for the life of him, he couldn’t tell how they managed to get so close!

“Daemons!” He managed to croak out, pushing past his surprise. The electric searchlights flared to life and focused on the beasties. He raised his rifle, took aim, and fired.

His shots were echoed by dozens of others. Bullets flew through the air and slammed into the charging beasts. But none of them faltered. Oh no…

A bright purple streak of something flashed from somewhere close to the entrance, and it slammed into the daemon. The creature roared as the purple light burned into its fur. Another light, this one blue, and a third, green, slammed into the same ape. It carved a hole into its torso, and the daemon fell forward, its body already disintegrating into ashes.

“Wha…”

Harris took the chance to look at where the lights came from. He gaped when he saw it was those foreign soldiers with their toy guns. Or rather, very real weapons that spat out burning lights. The ten of them had taken positions behind the sandbag walls and were shooting deliberately into the fray. They didn’t fire as fast as they could pull the trigger but took the time to aim carefully.

The light streaks were easy to follow with his eyes, and he saw that none of them missed.

Ratattatatatat!

The machine guns roared to life. Contrary to what he expected though, it took focused fire, several seconds worth, before a single ape fell. Unlike the light guns which downed an ape in three or four shots each. He forgot to shoot as he stared at them in fascination.

The rest of that group was arrayed behind the gunners, and half of them were wielding swords and spears.

“What?” He gasped.

Why? Huh? The weapons also had a subtle glow, and when the apes came close, the spear users moved in. The stab was so quick that Harris’ eyes couldn't follow it. One moment, the giant of a man moved a step close, then he retreated and shifted to face another ape. The one that got stabbed, and from how the creature’s hand went up to the middle of its chest, stumbled back, and began to disintegrate. A single stab!

But their weapons mustn’t have enough juice, since after firing several shots, the gunners pulled back and drew…swords? He didn’t notice the weapons at all! One of them did something with the blade, which caused it to open up, then he slotted it into his rifle, as though it were an extra-long bayonet. Then, the blade began to glimmer with light, and the gunners moved to intercept the apes.

“Harris!” Morton’s desperate voice wrenched his fascinated attention away from the light show. His buddy was running towards him, and right behind was one of the apes that managed to get past the walls. Harris aimed and shot, but as before, the bullets deflected away without harming it. Morton wasn’t carrying his rifle. Where in the name of the One Above was his weapon?

Harris shot at the ape desperately, but nothing worked. A moment later, the ape caught hold of Morton’s coat and yanked.

“Aieeee!” His blood-curdling shriek was something Harris knew he would never forget. And the sight of Morton’s head getting bitten off would haunt his nightmares forever.

The rest of his life seemed destined to be short, however, as the creature tossed away Morton’s body and charged towards his watchpost. And in what was apparently going to be his last moments, he wondered why the creature came from within the camp and not outside of it.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

The bullets ricocheted away from the beast. It seemed larger than the others, half again as much.

Click. Click.

Empty. His eyes darted towards his dead friend, and he murmured, “I’ll see you soon…”

Then…

Splat.

Fiery hot blood covered his face and the front of his uniform. But oddly, no pain. He opened his eyes to the sight of the creature’s two halves falling to either side, its body already beginning to disintegrate. Behind it, was a golden angel.

Her blazing golden eyes nearly blinded him, and at the next moment, dozens of golden blades materialised in the air. They darted all over the base camp, and as far as he could see, the apes were torn, sliced, and decapitated.

Harris collapsed to his knees. He bent over and threw up, nauseated and numb. He was alive.