We charge across the No Man’s Land as bullets and men fall around us.  A company of soldiers led by none other than myself. On my lips, a war cry and in my hands, a sword and the crackling orb of magic. I see the enemy faces, their glares of hate and anger. I let the spell loose and I watched as lightning soars from my hand. With my eyes, I see the spiderweb of blinding white energy smash into an enemy soldier. For a second he convulses and in the next, he explodes. 

The grenades he was carrying had detonated. His body is torn apart by the blast, as are his comrades around him. The pressure of the shockwave throws me back as my Mana Shield blocks the shrapnel. I am thrown into the ground and from there, I see it.

A beautiful night sky. The only beauty in sight of this war-torn hell-scape. “It’s beautiful.” I think to myself as I watch the streaks of red and orange fly high above me. Artillery shells, soaring off into the distance to rain death and destruction on the unlucky. 

I hear rhythmic fire of a machine gun go off. I shift my head, turning to look at it. I watch as tracer rounds fly out of the cylindrical barrel like embers jumping from the flame. Then, all of a sudden, a streak of orange smashes into the machine gun nest, putting an end to its symphony of death with the roar of an explosion.

The acrid stench of metal and burning flesh fill the air. The fire rages and the constant rhythm of the machine gun is replaced with the chaotic pops and cracks of ammunition cooking off. The sounds of battle continue to rage on around me. Men fall and shells detonate before I remember where I am, and most importantly, who I am. I feel the hilt of my sword still in my hand and grasp it tight. 

I rise to my feet and dash into the trench. I would have stayed there, admiring the beauty of the night but to do so would be my death. Snipers prowl and soldiers trade shots in No Man’s Land. I leap into the trench, vaulting over the wooden parapet and landing on my feet. The blood-soaked mud squelches under my feet as the stench of death fills my nostrils.

 I am now face to face with dirty soldiers clad in grey clothing and brown webbing containing their tools of war. They are my soldiers. What was once a two hundred of the finest men and women of the Empire, now stand only a fraction. 

In their hands are Rifle Spears. Four-foot-long halberd-like instruments of death and destruction with a 7.62mm gun at the end and beneath it, a halberd’s blade. The barrel runs a quarter way through the weapon with the charging handle located a quarter from the stock. Below the handle is a pistol grip with the trigger. A magazine containing 15 rounds juts out from the side at the very center. 

I am given looks of wonder, awe, but I also see horror. I look at the men around me and I see looks of grim determination. More than one of them however, have the looks of cowardice. The shivers of fright, the tears of weakness and for some, the distant look of madness and apathy. They anger me. They are supposed to be the finest warriors of the Empire! They are the bulwark against terror, yet they feel fear? I step towards one, a young man who can’t be more than eighteen. He stiffens as his look of horror deepens in his face. My grip tightens around the hilt of my sword, intent on making an example of him. As I raise the blade, the look of anger and my intent etched on my face, a rough hand grabs my shoulder.

I am stopped. My trusted friend Captain Hans stops me. He shakes his head and whispers “It’s not worth it. Battle will redeem them.” I sigh deeply as I turn to the men in my command. “Radio man!” I shout out. “Bring the radio man here!” The men erupt in motion as they pass the message back. A minute later, a young soldier with a large blocky piece of equipment on his back runs up to me. He couldn’t be older than 19. “Sir, Private Braun reporting, sir!” I nod at him. “Contact command! 312th are requesting for new orders! We have captured Trench 323 with moderate casualties! Attack is successful!”

I look at the men, still staring at me. “What are you standing around for! Back to positions!” I cry out and the men obey, scrambling back to their places and trading fire with the enemy. I look over the parapets and I see a land full of craters and pieces of the dead. I spot a mud-crusted officer’s cap just beyond the wooden barricades. It was my hat. An officer’s cap with a black visor at the front, lined with gold-colored thread and at the center is the Imperial Symbol of the Northern Waffelian Empire, nestled in between two laurels. 

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

I must not show fear. Their morale will waver if I do. Yet I feel the sweat drip from my pores as the adrenaline rush dies down. I feel the thumping of my heart and the pit at my stomach. I am all too aware of the cooling blood in the trench. Enemy soldiers from our previous attack lie around us. The men haven’t had the time to remove the bodies. Those same bodies could very well be myself. Or it could be Captain Hans. Or the young private Braun, who has now dropped radio and is hunched over it, scribbling in paper.

 I can still smell the acrid stench of the burning machine gun nest, just fifty meters away from me. My palm wraps around the blood red ruby amulet under my shirt. I can’t reach the hat from here, but I must. I must show my men that I have no fear, and neither shall they. I look behind me and see artillery shells flying from miles away. The perfect distraction. I reach deep inside, drawing on my incredible mana pool as the spell-form of a Haste spell forms around my muscles. While I’m not as gifted in magic as my Mage brother Samuel, I can still make use of the Imperial mana pool, standard in the family. I wait for a few, agonizing seconds as the shells slam into the enemy lines. With that as my cue, I leap over the parapet and make a mad dash for my hat, the whitish glow of magic surrounding my body.

No sooner than I reach it, do I hear the tell-tale crack of bullets whizzing by me. I grasp the hat and I make the mad dash back to the trench. I see the looks of awe on my men’s face as I leap down. With practiced calmness, I grasp the hat by its visor, reverse my grip and place it on my head. On the inside, I am trembling with terror. The crack of the bullets, the feel of the mud below me. Did the rain turn the ground to mud? Or did the blood and gore? I can see that Captain Hans doesn’t approve of my stunt. He shakes his head and tells the men to stop gawking. 

The Captain walks over to me and I prepare myself for another lecture. He has been with me since the Academy. We’ve gone through the rigors of school together, we’ve fought against the lightning-fast barbarians of the North and now, we fight once more on the same battlefield. 

“You are a crazy and a stupid bastard, Prince Walter.” he says to me. “That stunt. For your hat?” I smile at him and nod my head. “An officer without his hat is improperly dressed.” He sighs deeply and turns away, looking at the men behind him. “That hat is a target. We’ve got new orders. We’re to advance and take Trench 213, and then Hill 223. The hill’s a kilometer south of us. Trench 213 is just in front of us. It’s a 120 meter run.” 

I nod at him. “How many men do we have left?” I ask. “The 1st platoon took heavy losses. Three survivors.” I grimaced. That means we’ve lost 37 men. “As for the rest, 2nd platoon lost two men, 3rd and 4th both lost 15. We have 91 men left, including ourselves.” 

“We’ve lost half of our men, but Battalion HQ still wants us to push? We’ll be wiped out at this rate.” I look over the men and I see how tired they are. The way they slouch against the trench walls. The blisters on their hands and the cuts and scrapes from shrapnel and razor wire. I suddenly felt guilty and ashamed for how I acted. I nearly cut those men down myself. I suppressed a shiver and stamped down on my emotions as I turned to Captain Hans.

“Captain, here’s the plan. We’ll call in an artillery barrage for a full thirty seconds. On my Imperial authority.” His eyes widen. He knows I don’t like to throw my rank around, but we’ve lost too much. “Then at the final fifteen seconds, we’ll charge out. I’ll conjure up a smoke cloud and with the artillery, we might have a shot at making it out of this alive.” He looks over at Private Braun, who was peeking out of the trench and yells at him. Braun runs over and the Captain begins to give him the orders.

I look at my feet and I see a dead Waffelian soldier. His Rifle Spear clutched in his hands as he lies face down in the trench. The top of his head has been blown right off. What I stepped on was the oozing remains of his grey matter. I barely suppress a gag as bits of brain and blood stick to my boot. I thank the gods that the stench of gunpowder and smoke masked the smell of his rotting brain. I suddenly think to myself, what if I know this man? What if he’s been with me since I was first given this company? I shudder, grateful that he lay face down. It makes it easier to say goodbye. 

I run the plan through my brain as I walk down the trenches. Barrage, smoke, charge. I looked inwards, feeling my mana running through my veins. I have plenty left, but I shouldn’t waste any more. I turn to the captain, about to ask him for the status when he gives me a thumbs up. Thirty seconds later I see the first shells begin to arrive, pounding the enemy lines and churning the ground into a sea of craters and death. 

I draw on my mana and take a deep breath. It’s time to go.