The skies are cloudless as the sun sat gloriously high in the sky gracing the land with its warm rays, a gentle breeze in the air, the grass and flowers in the field with their vibrant colors and full of life. The picture definition of the limitless possibilities offered in a world yet tainted by the overbearing and moribund decay of a post industrial civilization.
But the world was already tainted by those things, for they are not the products of modernity, but the innate nature of civilization. The most odorous evidence for this is the two ragged masses of men, horses, and all their baggage of incoming death, arrayed across each other. Their commanders with eyes of contempt, whether for the enemy or their own only the gods could tell.
For all that, Roberts, for the first time in a long time, felt something akin to elation. For a brief moment he was transported to another world, as in the one had imagined in all the isekai fic he had read a literal lifetime ago. To what little remained of his logic inside of his mind reacted to that with surprise. After all, it wasn’t much, and almost certainly unnoticeable for him in his previous life.
His previous life. It really wasn’t that long ago, it really wasn’t. If his memories and number counting are roughly correct it was only around 6 months ago when his bland and mundane life back on Earth ended due to his body coming into contact with a speeding truck at 55mph.
What came after, in those short 6 months, was pain, suffering, misery, and bitterness. He knew the military boot camps in the world of his previous life were difficult and brutal, but it was nothing compared to the living hell that he and thousands of other ordinary losers like him were promptly thrown into in this world…
Six months ago…
The first thing after the endless void that Roberts felt with his senses wasn’t from his sight, nor of a sound. Instead it was the dust on his hands and entering his nostrils. As he coughed the rest of his senses started to work again.
There he was, sprawled upon a dusty field, next to many others seemingly just like him. Around their squirming bodies stood a number of men, though dressed in waistcoats, breeches, and boots, their relative uniformity of colors denoted their military nature, as also their posture, which oozes arrogance and disdain as they gazed down as the masses of otherworlders before them.
“You, all of you.” A man who dressed in the robes of some priesthood spoke. “You are here because you have been forsaken. Only through service and suffering can you receive the redemption that your souls crave-”
“Whoa, I’m in another world?!?” A voice interrupted from among the masses of the just spawned outworlders as he stood up. “Where are the cheat powers and the big tidd-”
Before he could even finish his rambling a pair of nearby soldiers grabbed him roughly by the arms and began to drag him away. The incoherent screeching continued all the way up to the gallows, which somehow missed the attention of the isekaied ones before then. Only when the trapdoor was sprung did the screeching stopped, to be replaced by the choking of the soon to be dead.
“You are all already condemned in soul and body.” The pretentious priest continued even as the grisly and grotesque scene played out in the background. “Only through duty and sacrifice can you wash away the sins of your previous existence-”
“Fuck that!” Another isekaied guy shouted in defiance, while a few around him shouted in agreement. “You evil bastards need to die now-”
And just like the previous luckless fool they were also promptly seized by the soldiers, who duly dragged them to the gallows and hung them as well. A few tried to fight back, to little effect as they found out quickly that they have not been imbued with any special powers, and that their scrawny or obese carcasses are no match for any actual confrontation outside of the internet. In the span of a handful of minutes the gallows were filled up with dozens of bodies, and with that the isekaied crowd finally quieted down as the last of the hanged men stopped twitching, out of genuine fear if nothing else.
Shit has just gotten real. They might have been sent to another world, but it’s one that doesn’t obey the laws of isekai. They really are just a mass of regular blokes who are stuck in another world, and moreover a world seemingly a lot less forgiving… clearly they weren’t the first batch to land there, given how nonchalant and seasoned the natives of the world dealt with those who had acted out so far.
“Now that the undesirables have been dealt with,” Another man, this one dressed in some form of military uniform, began to speak, “You are about to enter the service of the glorious army of the Kingdom of Gulaelt. Be thankful of the great privilege bestowed upon you the opportunity to…”
The pompous rambling continued for hours, interrupted with the occasional shouts of defiance from some of the isekais, which were promptly dealt with much like the ones before. By the time the speech ended there were hundreds of corpses lining the palisade as the dead of the gallows were replaced by the soon to be dead. From what Roberts could see a lot of the later ones were acting out simply because they wanted to die. After all, if the dice rolled once, they can roll again… but execution by hanging still looks to be a rather painful way to go out, and most of the rest don’t have the guts to go out like that.
Finally, as the officer’s speech finished, the soldiers moved in, truncheons in hand, the glint of sadistic anticipation in their eyes. The iskeaied ones huddled closer as they realized that what’s about to occur…
It seems that their reincarnated lives are going to be rather difficult.
Four months ago…
The end, finally. Roberts thought to himself as he and the others of the newly formed 17th штрафбат/Isekai Regiment marched, or rather trudged and shuffled, out of the mustering grounds.
No, not the end, not even the beginning of the end. Perhaps only the end of the beginning. Yet so many of them didn’t even get to see that. The beatings and the hangings did not stop after that day, if anything those intensified as the mob of generic nobodies were reshaped into a military formation.
Not a good formation by any means. For all bombastic rhetoric talked of how they are to be an important part of the war effort (for what, for who, for why, there was never a straight answer, or any answers at all for that matter: it’s treasonous to voice such questions, and the punishment for treason is death), the reality was certainly not reflected: Most of them are holding spears, some of the less lucky ones holding hastily made war scythes. It wasn’t as if firearms didn't exist, as they had seen arquebuses, mainly in the hands of the guards who shot some of the more dangerous insubordinate trainees during the training period.
As they trudged forth, through the fields of amber grain, the picturesque villages, and soon enough entering the wilderness. It wasn’t a wilderness of forests exactly. Sure, there’s some trees, a lot of them, but not to the point where they block out the view of what’s beyond. It’s almost as if there’s no cover for them, for their shame.
And there’s plenty of shame to go around. After all, the powers that be do not see them as befitting uniforms, or decent clothing at all. All of them are dressed in the rags of what might have been dignified the title of clothing at some point, but that might as well be a literal lifetime ago… as for their bodies, well, everyone became very well acquainted with lice and bedbugs, and all the other features of a world before the invention of modern sanitation, or nutrition, or a lot of other things they had taken for granted before in their previous lives.
Stolen novel; please report.
As the day went on and the march continued people began to drop out, simply falling by the side of the footpath, never to rise away. The still living, closer to death than life themselves, paid little heed. While not strangers, they were still not familiar enough to be much more than that. Many thoughts crossed the minds of the survivors, in the case of Roberts merely a tinge of envy for the dead, as they have gained the sweet release from the suffering of this reincarnated second chance at life.
The suffering, he was surprised that he still had comprehension of the concept, having gotten used to the beatings, the lashings, the starvations, the cold, the heat, and the words that slice through the very soul. How he had desensitized to what would have killed him in his previous life, and had killed countless ones just like him, the most recent of which still lies on the side of the footpath, their broken and malnourished carcasses slim pickings for even the crows and vultures.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity of marching, though someone next to him remarked that it could not have been more than 50 miles, the regiment stopped for the night. As they collapsed onto the ground where they stopped a couple of pack mules, lightly loaded with a few bags each, trotted into the middle of the mess. A few of the junior officers began to open the bags, and hand out the rations.
… or rather throw them, the pitiful lumps of potatoes. Suddenly the seemingly dead became animated again, as if their strings had been pulled. With the speed of the truly desperate they lunged at the objects, and soon a number of fights broke out. It was then that some realized that those lumps were not in fact potatoes, but simply rocks and mud, seasoned with sawdust. Yet with that revelation the fighting over the rations, if anything, intensified, and soon blood flowed freely as the more lucky ones were struck, their souls leaving their wretched bodies.
As for the rest, meat was back on the menu, and soon at least some of them were sated in body, at the small cost of their morality.
During all of that the officers simply watched on with amusement, chuckling at those isekaied ones debasing themselves. At the end of the day, they were just like the peasant levies before them, except even more expendable. After all, the mages have said that the gods will bless them with limitless bodies till the war is won. And bodies are meant to be spent, if nothing else.
For Roberts, he did not partake in the feeding frenzy, having crawled into the bushes as the first heads were being cracked. Once among the vegetation he began munching on whatever leaves and mushrooms within reach, his instincts having decided that death by poisoning is better than death through starvation. However, within a handful of minutes his stomach began to protest violently, and soon after he made a rather humiliating mess. It was just as well that he was far from the only one with the idea, and the consequences of their desperation remained the same.
At length the frenzy fizzed out as the rations were consumed and the exhaustion of the day took over the huddled masses, and soon the wilderness was strewn with the bodies of those in a deep sleep, the sleep of those with nothing left to give, nothing within and nothing without. Thus it was upon the duties of the junior officers to select enough bodies for night guard, which they picked with relish, choosing the unlucky ones with generous beatings from their swagger sticks.
The days after passed in much the same way, though as time went on some of the brighter ones became reasonably skilled in the art of forging, while others became skilled in extracting the fruits of labor of the former, and thus an internal and informal hierarchy formed in the dog eating dog world of the isekaied ones…
The present…
… The picturesque moment was smashed by the puff of clouds of the discharge of the cannons, followed by the whizzing of the cannonballs themselves as they flew in the direction they’re being sent. Most of them simply plow themselves into the ground, some bounced a few times, and a select few smashed right into the masses of the regiment, throwing limbs and the screams of the damned in their wakes. In fact, one passed within a few feet of him, almost knocking him to the ground, and leaving precious little of the half dozen men to his left.
As the cannonade went on many in the ranks lost their nerve, breaking from their positions either to flee or to charge. The former were promptly cut down by their cavalry, who took personal affront that the cannon fodder had failed in their one duty. As for the latter, they were quickly killed by the enemy cavalry, who in their role of picking off stragglers were far quicker, professional, and more relevantly merciful in their killings
That seemed to have decided the remainder, who as one began to trudge forward, seeking to do something, anything, besides having to stand there and take the enemy cannon fire. Their officers yelled at them to fall back in formation, even killing a few, but to no avail, and quickly they gave up the endeavor, abandoning the doomed fodder to their fate. The enemy cannons continue their fire, now with a prominent target to focus on, soon to be joined by the fire of arquebuses as they come into range. Sheets of fire and thunder rain down about them while the smoke enveloped them and began to choke the very air. Many were stuck down like ripen grain, while the survivors continued, not seeing any other choice in the heat of the moment, not that there were alternative choices in the first place.
Within the swirling smoke the block formation of the regiment devolved into a blob, and then lost all cohesion altogether as the drummer and flag bearer were cut down by shrapnel and lead balls from the arquebuses. It was the moment the enemy had been waiting for, and just as the sound of fire shifted away momentarily, through the smoke the enemy cuirassiers descended upon them, their sabers finishing what the cannons and arquebuses started.
They never had a chance, most didn’t even have the time to point their spears before their entrails being spilled onto the ground, and few who did only brought a few more seconds before joining their slower counterparts.
The cuirassiers dissipated almost as fast as they appeared, having dealt with the disorganized mob, their attention switched back to the stragglers, hunting down those at a more sedated pace.
The chaos and din of battle raged on for hours after that, during which Roberts simply lied still, having fallen when a horse knocked him over. The body of another luckless fool slamming on top of him was probably the saving throw, and he knew better than to attract attention to himself. He’s still alive, albeit in a lot of pain, but then, it was just more pain to add on the countless recurring pains that he had since being dumped into this godforsaken world.
So much for the glories of combat.
……
As with all good things the symphony of combat had to come to an end, and end it did, as the last rays of the sun cast its rays on a field littered with bodies, the stench of death and power still hung in the air as even the last of the looters had their fill. By some measure of luck no one found Roberts, and as he heard only the unnatural silence of a field vacated of life he gingerly pushed off the body he was hiding under and slowly got up.
As he stood up he saw that he was not alone, for among the masses of dead were also scattered survivors. Friend or foe he could not tell, nor care. Nobody alive had the strength, or will, to care about such trivial matters. For the tired men, there was an air of wordless understanding between them.
Picking up the broken shaft of a spear, he began the long walk back to the encampment.
……
He was far from the only straggler to make it back to the camp, and like the rest of them he received the same fate of a series of beatings before being pushed into another block of men. As he looked at the new faces he noticed that they were slightly less ragged, even a mild sense of familiarity. With a start he realized that it was another group of isekais, much like himself, just arrived a bit too late for the battle. There was an officer on a stand in the front, talking of a glorious victory, that the noble knights have gone back to the capital for a victory, and that they are to relocate the camp by tomorrow.
On the last point Roberts noticed that the direction they were to go would take them back to where they had gone before, a retreat of sorts so to speak. The mumblings of those around him all but confirmed it, as many had noticed the consequences of the supposed victory.
The officer noticed the change in the mood of the assembled before him, and like the rest of his kind he dealt with it the usual way. With the flick of his hands the guard soldiers descended upon the mob of isekais, delivering yet another savage beating.
Such is life in the isekai regiments.