The whistling sounds of shells that were piercing through the air before exploding with a loud bang had put Robert into an almost half-conscious state. The deafening rumble from the hits felt like a direct blow to the head with the hammer. Each shook the land, simultaneously scattering the earth together with metal fragments all over the surroundings. The shock wave only increased the effect, making him hug the ground inside the trench. Cursing his big size, Robert tried to push himself in a small deepening, created for such occasion. Unfortunately, he barely could fit. Therefore, he conjured a metal plate to cover himself, absolutely ignoring the possible exposure of his abilities. Rob needed to survive first to meet any consequences. Moreover, other soldiers were not in a position to observe others as most of them were in similar covers.

The trench, despite being an ordinary dugout in the ground, had walls, formed from wooden planks; tens of deepening, similar to Robert’s; and quite a few underground shelters, which hid the biggest part of the company. Rob also tried to get in but was sent away by the lieutenant because of his size. It appeared not that bad as nothing was safe under artillery fire. The constant bombardment was plowing up the area. Not being too powerful and even less precise, it compensated for everything with a sheer number of shells.

Another explosion raged right inside the trench, blowing a part of it together with a few soldiers, who were almost hugging each other. Robert managed to notice only a glimpse of it before the shock wave had reached him, bringing the heat together with projectiles. Made from wood chips, pieces of metal, and flesh, they easily found the gap between the wall and his shield. Still, the piercing pain in his thigh went almost unnoticed as the force had already thrown Rob’s body inside his cover. The loud sound of close hit completely disorientated him for a few seconds, before he finally recovered.

The first thing he heard was a scream. Loud, filled with pain and fear, it made him tremble from the understanding of how vulnerable he was, despite all his super strength and magical ability. One unlucky shell would cross out him from the exitance forever. Rob wouldn’t see it coming. It wouldn’t be a fair fight, where he could lose to a stronger enemy. No, just a random artillery round that would fall right onto him, might end everything in a mere moment.

The following explosion had curtained the scream, instantly overwhelming it by force and volume. It never returned after it. However, Rob turned his attention to his own wound. To his surprise, the remnant of bayonet from the rifle had stuck inside his leg. Blindly searching for the tourniquet, he continued the keep his metal plate, noticing how the explosions had started to move away.

Making a few deep breaths, Robert unsummoned his shield before starting to quickly tie a tourniquet around his injury. Tightened it with all his force, he decisively pulled out the metal fragment. The bandaging took another minute, while he was constantly listening to the explosions and any whistling sounds in an attempt to react in time. Each hit made him shudder as if he were a target, but it still didn’t stop him from patching up himself.

I hope my regeneration will deal with possible blood loss or infection…

Looking around in the muddy ground, Rob thanked his luck that it wasn’t the season of rain right now. Still even without such “icing on the cake”, the scenery of fields without a single intact tree, covered with hundreds of craters, consisted only of the plowed by constant shelling land with the addition of metal fragments and corpses – such scenery made a depressing impression on a whole company on newly recruited soldiers when they first came here.

Unsurprisingly, the captain’s words about immediate sending came true. The lieutenant, the red-haired middle-aged man with pure human, had met him with a simple nod, pointing to the boxes with gear and weapons. The latter was an ordinary bolt-action rifle with five rounded internal magazines and additional bayonet. The helmet was a single piece of protection gear. No bulletproof vests, night vision goggles – the technology here seemed to be around the end of the 19th century.

The mentions of dirigibles or armored trains; the seen edgy trucks with small wheels, directly from the past; Robert even noticed the telegraph – many things confirmed the state of development. On the other hand, it didn’t mean that it was primitive. Quite on the contrary. His backpack, for example, had a lot of stuff in it, starting from a metal flask, deep plate, and spoon, up to shaving accessories of factory-made quality. Rob had gotten a soldier tag, which was created on press right before his eyes after the serviceman manually had put his name on a rotating cylinder. Two hours later they were inside trucks, driving to the battlefield.

Cramped in a tight space, they were almost touching each other’s faces. Somehow, even knowing where they were going didn’t influence the attitude of soldiers. A lot of them sounded overly enthusiastic, arguing about what was the best way to kill the beastmen. Or how long it would take to get to one hundred kills. Or the beauty of the foxy woman according to the gossip.

“The only problem is that they rarely appear in the front,” complained one of the soldiers. His sparse mustache looked like his pride as he was constantly touching them, almost like pointing at them.

“The only REAL problem is that the higher-ups don’t give a fuck about our lives, and not the distance to their nearest hole to put your dick inside. This is a war of politicians! An ordinary people must risk their lives just for them to live in luxury…”

The sudden shout, coming from one of the oldest men in the company with a round fat face and bulging eyes had made everyone silent for a moment, giving him time to continue his speech. However, he didn’t manage to end it as another man interrupted it with a punch. Putting all his strength, he broke the nose of the speaker with a single hit. Not stopping on it, he punched more and more.

“SHUT THE FUCK UP, you, dumbass! My son, his whole family, my grandchildren… everyone was tortured to death by those filthy animals. War of politicians? Fuck no! This is for the sake of our survival. Did you forget that they don’t take prisoners at all?”

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

Stretching his hand, Robert put his palm on the man’s shoulder.

“Stop it. You may kill him, but that will distance you from your goal of revenge. This idiot will not live long, I am sure. Don’t waste your energy on him.”

The man sighed before stepping back. Raising his covered with tears face, he slowly exhaled before silently nodding. After sitting back, he closed his eyes in an attempt to calm down. On the other hand, the fatty started to sob while touching his bloodied face. No one paid attention to him, nobody tried to help as if crossing him out from the circle of the company. It took another minute for soldiers to forget about an event, taking conversations in a different direction. One of the topics was Robert himself.

“Hey, Ogre, why are you so quiet?”

The question was asked by a cheeky brat, who behaved as if the silence could kill him physically, therefore, he had to fight against it, using all available means. He simultaneously took part in a few conversations, somehow managing to follow them at once. Skinny, with scars over the lips and a gap in teeth, he looked like someone who wanted to cause any reaction, not caring what it would be. Rob even thought that those marks were partly the result of such an attitude.

“Don’t want to make friends just to lose them in a few days.”

It was indeed an honest answer coming for him. Robert wanted to make more connections, but the war wasn’t the best thing to do it. Especially, in the conditions of long-lasting bloodshed, when only a small percentage managed to live until the end. The loss of Monk and Wolf was quite painful, no matter how he wanted to ignore it. The time healed, but not entirely, leaving a mark forever. He was afraid to repeat such an experience. Despite that, he knew it was impossible to isolate himself. So, Rob just wanted to push such situations as further in time as possible.

“Oh, do you think you will survive even your first battle? Crap, you are too huge – you are a perfect target!”

“We will see,” Rob smiled lightly while ignoring the following attempts to tease him. Soon, the brat stopped, switching his attention to a shy guy in glasses. However, he didn’t have the opportunity to enjoy it properly as their trucks suddenly stopped right in the middle of the road.

“Get out! The last part on foot!”

Dropping on the ground from the truck, Robert looked around only to see an empty field. There was an artillery battery near them and quite a few cars seemed to be loaded with shells, but otherwise, it seemed to be empty. The scenery almost didn’t change when they went around the truck. Almost as a single addition was a fortified line, which stretched to the horizon. Dug in the ground, it strengthened by wood and barbered wires. Moreover, Rob soon found out that it was not just one but five lines. Separated by half of a mile, they were made in case of a possible retreat. This assumption was based solely on the absence of what made such lines stay strong – soldiers.

The last one, or better to say, the first was their final destination. That was the moment when the scenery had impacted even the most optimistic youngsters. Especially the state of the company which they were meant to replace. By the best estimates, they had three dozen alive. Over half were wounded. And there was a smell. The heavy scent of corpses, powder, and burned meat seemed to envelop the surroundings. However, the biggest hit to their confidence came from the lieutenant’s command:

“I need five volunteers to move the corpses back to the trucks. Ogre, you are coming by default… No one? Okay, then you, you…”

Pointing the finger, their officer quickly chose “lucky ones”. Robert already discovered that their company was hastily made from the remnants of a new wave of recruits. Trained and even gone through the combat coordination, they had lost their commanders and most fellow soldiers even before coming to the frontlines. The unnoticed dirigible messed up most of the plans, bombarding the train line right at the moment of unloading. The biggest consensus was not the bomb themselves, but a secondary explosion of transported artillery rounds that detonated because of fire. The chain reaction almost annihilated all surroundings.

That was the reason for the hast decision to put an uncoordinated newly formed group to the front. Knowing about the weak spot, the enemy would surely strike it before it was patched up. Or it could be their objective in the first place – to exhaust the defense, to strike the reinforcement before its arrival on the position, thus artificially creating a weak spot by their own hands. However, the Kingdom didn’t have any choice as only to do what was expected in an attempt to stop the enemy. Therefore, they were here – not even knowing the names of each other, with an unknown officer, without proper adjusting to the cruelty of war, meant only to slow down the enemy before real force would be ready. If luckily, to exhaust the enemy’s attack potential themselves to make it easy to do a counterattack. Or at the bare minimum to hold the line, not giving the enemy to penetrate the defense.

Robert quickly understood that, but it somehow avoided being noticed by most of the others. It could be just self-lying in an attempt to keep their cool. Or just the eternal principle of every young and naïve soldier – “Anyone but not me.” He had seen it in the previous realm. However, Rob wasn’t so hypocritical as not to admit that he had the very same thought. It was understandable as everyone wanted to live and just couldn’t imagine their own death. Moreover, their company wasn’t unique in this regard – at least four more were in similar situations according to what he managed to hear here and there.

The shelling started in three hours. The cheeky brat was the first casualty. Instead of immediately jumping inside the trench after hearing the odd whistling sound, he started to search for the source. The explosion wasn’t even near him, but, unluckily, one of the metal fragments had pierced his heart, instantly killing him in the place. His body was still falling when Robert had tried to jump inside the cover only to be thrown away by his own lieutenant. Then the hell broke loose.

Everything will be fine…

The first seconds inside deepening were spent fighting with paralyzing fear. Just a moment ago he was in motion, actively doing something to save his life, but now he had to sit still and resignedly wait for his fate, not having any ability to protect himself. That appeared to be scary. Even terrifying. The exact point of absolute absence in a control of a situation, in which your own life is at stake. All his battle experience paled with that. Superpowers? They were not helpful in the slightest when you were the target of artillery, located several miles away.

And who is the superhero in such cases? The man who, using supernatural abilities, is fighting against random thugs or an ordinary man who has none, except his own willpower, to fight against the threats he can’t even see? The threats are unstoppable in their nature.

Nobody answered the question, but Robert didn’t need it. Shuddering with each explosion, he just waited when everything would be over, trying no think that he could easily die in any second. The scream, the wound, the bandage – everything happened like in a dream. Or, in a nightmare, to be precise. The wake-up was triggered by a distant voice of his commander. Periodically blowing into the whistle, the latter was shouting at the top of his lungs, while running through the trench.

“Get out of covers, take your weapons, and be ready for the enemy’s assault! Hurry up! The beasts are coming! Stand up, fast!”