“Bruh, is this shit for real?” Lcpl Grey asked out loud to no one in particular as he and many other marines of the MLG cleared the charred debris that marked what was once the capital of the what's-its name country that they now occupied. It was supposed to be a beautiful city, as pristine and shiny as any in those shitty generic isekai animes that only Oki weebs watched.

Now? To say it’s a field of ruins would imply there’s still something of note standing, Like Grozny after the Chechen wars… not that any of them would understand the comparison. At least some of the city outer walls still stood, charred husks standing sullenly, as if silently judging the gutted sight before them.

It wasn’t their fault, ain't no way. There were no airstrikes, no artillery barrages in the lead up to the entrance to the city. There was simply no need, there was nothing that warrant such application of firepower.

The only notable opposition, if it could be even called such, that they had met on the last bit of rutted road before the city had been some malnourished orphan in rags, holding a broken stick like a sword.

Supposedly anyways. The lead vehicle of the convoy always maintained the narrative that they saw nothing and only felt a slight squishy bump on the road. It was just as well that there were no reporters or civilian photographers around, and combat camera knew the art of discretion.

But that doesn't answer what burned the city down to the bedrock. It still wasn't their fault though.

Well, not really. Dumbass boots couldn't have known better.

Sure, some dipshit might have popped some flares over the outer walls at night at around the 3rd night into the 'siege', supposedly at the request from somewhere or another for some illumination over the hostile location for some reason or another. It didn't make much sense at the time and it made less sense after the ashes settled, which also explained why all the evidence of the chain of orders coincidentally disappeared… if there was even any in the first place.

… Okay, so maybe they did start the fire, and pre modern cities tend to be particularly flammable, but that certainly doesn't explain the massive fireballs that were going off soon after, almost like shitty FX effects or trashy fireworks. It did, however, get the gates open, though the flood of people and animals fleeing for their lives in every direction stirred a lot more chaos and problems than any battle they had fought up to that point.

It was not exactly something that the MLG had rehearsed or even accounted for. For all the talk of entering a premodern country, it did not occur to anyone in a position of decision what that really meant. For all the disdain towards the undeveloped countries back on earth, they were still places in a modern world, where even in the absence of equipment there’s at least some vague notions of institutions.

Something that’s utterly lacking in this other world.

And so they mostly watched as the city burned, the situation before them more akin to that of a mildly interactive cutscene than a mission. What relevant equipment and personnel available were little more than droplets into a furnace, though combat camera was able to nab some stunning photos of hastily pressed CBRN guys in their level A suits spraying water (ineffectively) at some of the buildings near the edge of the city walls.

Even surrounded by fires, every step they took was contested, by those who even deep in their damnation still fought for those who have forsaken them. The old, the infirm, the children, the cripples. Armed with nothing more than sticks and stones they staggered towards the marines even as their homes and everything they had ever known burned around them. No words were unable to dissuade them from their mission, and so force was resorted to. It was not Gray's proudest moment to buttstroke an orphan with his rifle, though he was far from the only one to do so.

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

In the end, the fires simply took their course, and as the last of the embers rose into the skies the sun had risen on an utterly desolate hellscape, a tomb of the vanquished and a mocking monument to the conquerors.

There was little time to dwell on the matter however, and command had immediately tasked out everyone around to clean up the place and aid the survivors.

"It do be like that." Lcpl Vega muttered as he shrugged, having mentally gone on autopilot a while back.

“And here I thought policing calling and field daying is something that only happens back in garrison.” Lcpl Williams remarked as shoved another pile of debris off to the side. The weak attempt at humor did little to lift spirits, which, while not anywhere near bad, was mainly composed of emptiness.

The fight was all but over. They have won. Done all that’s expected of them and then some. Yet here they are, picking up trash and cleaning debris like some pressed ganged working party after a wild barracks party done by some other section (and it is always some other section, fucking comms, a bunch of criminals more like).

Moreover, there was a sense of emptiness, instead of where a sense of pride and accomplishment should have been. Maybe they'll get those after the CO makes a speech about what they have achieved later in the day.

Maybe EA would release a good game without microtransactions. Maybe Jody will stop banging all the dependas while their hubbies are out here, in this nondescript yet melancholy world.

Grey kicked a nearby piece of stone in frustration, frustration at everything: this who war-ish thingy, COC cocking up as usual, this world and all of its stupidity, and himself most of all, responsible for nothing and no ability to do anything about it. By sheer luck, coincidence, or the cruel fate of forces unknown the rock skipped a ways before impacting on a pile of rubble, causing a minor cascade of dirt and debris. As the dust settled a faint cry could be heard.

At first he shuffled towards the sound, breaking into a more rapid walk as he saw the source of the noise: that of a young boy, all but an unrecognizable mass of pulped bones and mashed flesh yet its soul still stubbornly resided within, as if entrapped in that now tomb of torture.

“Call a doc, somebody get medical!” Grey shouted half by rote at words he never really expected to use as he knelt down next to the dying boy, while alternating between fumbling for the contents of his IFAK and getting a tourniquet out, before realizing the futility of any first aid. Instead he took out one of his cantees, still full simply because no one sane would drink from one of those things unless things were really dire. While most of the water simply splashed everywhere a few droplets were able to find their way into the mouth of the boy.

“Ah- ah-” The boy feebly attempted to speak, but understandably was having trouble even breathing.

“It’s fine. Everything’s going to be fine.” Grey lied, with absolutely no confidence in his voice. “Help is on the way.”

“Have- have we won?” The boy asked. Belatedly Grey realized that the boy had been blinded by all of his prior misfortunes. He was ready to give the usual spiel, only at the last second realizing how bad an idea that would be.

“Yes. Yes we have.” Grey lied through gritted teeth. “The demons have been banished.”

“Praise be.” Those last haunting words left the boy’s mouth as he died in the Lcpl’s arms, his last moments the happiest in his short and cruel life.

Grey sat by for a long time, after the corpse had been taken away, lost in his thoughts as those around either respected his need for internal solitude, or simply too busy to deal with yet another basket case.

How many blood soaked lives are behind the ribbons that he and the rest of them will receive? He looked at the still open canteen, and finally took a drink.

The stagnant water within was still as vile as always, but for once he didn’t complain. It’s what he deserves.

It’s what they all deserve. Results for the best of intentions and the noblest of causes.