This was hell; that was the only explanation; as these so-called orcs crested the horizon into his view, he was shocked. These were no orcs; they were demons. That was the only explanation. Gone was Tarphus's previous demeanor of stoic calm; it was replaced with horrid panic. He knew that he had no chance.

Explosions rocked the very ground he stood on. The hulking monstrosities that made a mockery of the orcs he knew charged at the line. He saw them as they took round after round, still charging, screaming that guttural and horrible scream of theirs. “WAAAAAAH!”

Tarphus turned and ran like a coward. He ran as fast as his legs could carry him, then he felt pain in the back of his knee; he fell to the ground as a booming voice echoed across the battlefield. "This sorry excuse for a Guardsman thought that the Orcs were the thing to fear. That is the greatest insult I have witnessed. Know him and witness how his cowardice rewarded him."

A revving sound barked to life, and Tarphus felt pain shoot across his back; he looked down and saw that he was separated from his legs. He cried out in pain, trying to stuff his organs back into his body. He could not move his legs, he felt cold creep into his body, and each second felt like an eternity of agony and pain until text entered his vision.

You Died.

Tarphus, now standing, was in shock at the pain that suddenly vanished. He reached down and grabbed at his midsection, panting heavily. He ignored that horrible sound, he pushed away from the rolling thunder that was in his ears, he then curled into a ball and started crying.

He whispered, "Why? What is going on? What am I going to do?" So on and so forth, the orcs came, people around him died, he saw as a boy, no older than fourteen collapsed at his feet, half his face pulverized. It was then that he heard footsteps; no, it was more felt as each step shook the ground.

Tarphus looked up and saw an 'orc.' It grabbed his neck and hosted him up to look into his eyes. Tarphus looked into those fierce and disgusting eyes. The orc applied pressure, ever so slowly, he felt his windpipe get crushed. Tarphus then felt his heart quicken its pace; he tried to avoid that accursed gaze, it looked at him bored.

He felt rage like he had never felt before as he witnessed the thing's boredom at his visage. How dare it. It was mocking him. The hatred ate at him, obscuring reason from his disturbed mind; he bit the hand that held him clawed at it, screaming in utter rage, bitterly biting back his despair.

Tarphus could no longer see straight; as the orcs hand continued to squeeze, his sight turned red. Until it simply clenched its fist, thus destroying his throat and causing his head to pop off and roll to the ground.

You Died

“WAAAAH!” He snapped at that awful sound. He charged into the fray against those giant bastards, stabbing, rolling, ducking. He was butchered again and again greeted with those same words, woken by that horrible battle cry. After so long of this, he just stopped. He then looked around him. He saw boys, literally boys, some not even fourteen years old, and yet unlike him, they kept their calm and fired. Their aiming was horrible, most only hitting by dumb luck instead of skill.

Tarphus died watching those brave soldiers. The next time he started shooting alongside these boys and girls, he poured his rage and fear into every shot. He died again and again, alongside those brave soldiers. They were so courageous, though they flinched whenever that war cry bellowed; they fired into the mass each and every time.

However, only he was forced to relive this experience. The experience of facing these horrors, again and again, he could only die. It did not matter if he fled, nor did it matter if he threw down his weapon. The orcs would butcher him if he cried, and the commissar would execute him should he run, so he fought.

It was then that he started to learn, truly learn, his shots were not accurate, not in the slightest, but he grew every time he fired the weapon in his hands. He corrected the heavy munitions of what he recalled as an auto gun bolted into his shoulder. Bruising him, he died as an orc closed in on him as he did not account for the recoil chopping into his shoulder and out from his pelvis.

He learned from each death, now he fought tooth and nail, not for himself, each time Tarphus fled or cried; those were the times he fought for himself. Every time he fought for himself, he died horribly, but now, he shoved his fellow soldiers away to save them from those explosive rocks called grenades.

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He tried to save as many as possible. Still, there were so many people, and Tarphus was only one person, so he focused on protecting the children around him. Apparently, he was a squad leader. He oversaw ten souls, though he did not know them; Tarphus swore that he would get them out of this alive, as they were mere children. However, he kept on asking himself if he could do it.

What felt like days passed as he died over and over. He learned what to do when a grenade landed near his group. As they ducked for cover, he leaped at it, committing the time to memory so that he could move his allies. They were just new recruits, so their actions were not as well drilled; some even shot themselves. Again, Tarphus made a note of their mistakes, then corrected it on the next life.

He went from shooting wildly with the auto gun on fully automatic, to uncontrolled bursts, then from there to controlled bursts, as he learned that ammo is not unlimited. He knew how to reload and, from there, to reload efficiently. All while dying over and over again, then he saw something happen. The orcs stopped coming over that blasted hill. There were none in his sight. He took a second to look over his charges.

They were alive, but they were wounded. Tarphus had the medic behind the others to help his soldiers; the medic was brave; he went over to other squads to help patch them up. Tarphus smiled at his troops; they started to talk about their parents' jobs were, they joked and laughed. These were the same troops that were green to combat.

Not to say Tarphus was any different; however, he had infinite lives these children did not. They trashed each other with such vitality, he joined in. Tarphus did this because he saw it; he had seen it multiple times, they were breaking. He needed to keep their spirits up; he told them that drinks were on him for a night if they all made it out alive. He smiled as they cheered; the bastard with that horrible sword came to him. He saluted a serious face meeting the old and grizzled commander.

"We are to stay on this line for another of the orc charges, as you are one of the only groups that have not taken casualties. Therefore, you will be one of the last as we pull out the wounded to the second line. This was the decision from high, congratulations squad captain, for you get to serve the Emperor by allowing the mortar to grow and make sure that those damn orcs die in His name." The man is old, his hair is greying, and his voice raspy. However, the commanding tone was sharp. The artillery could not block out this man's commandeering voice.

Tarphus could feel the experience that oozed out of this man; he had lived through many battles; his uniform was pristine and well taken care of. Tarphus could not help respecting this man; he had seen him almost die for these children. He saw him fight until he was torn limb from limb.

This was a person he could follow. If it was not because this person cut him in half, this version has not. Finally, Tarphus made his decision, "Alright, sir, we will be the bulwark, get those boys home." The man nodded. He seemed to be looking for something in Tarhpus's eyes, then he let out a snort, his face still a frown, but he appeared less tense than before.

"Really, that is it? No bitching, no complaining? You will just do it?" Tarphus smiled. He looked at his troops. "We got out fine, a few scrapes and bruises, but nothing major. I saw some of the boys south of our position. I know how badly wounded they are, so get them out of here, sir; we will hold until the second wave, like a thorn we will hold."

Tarphus then recognized the insignia emblazoned on this man. He was a commissar, but that did not matter right now; it was those troops that had laid down their lives for a few precious seconds. He was saddened that he could not repay them, but he could buy time for their wounded battle brothers to get to safety.

The commissar nodded coldly, turned on his heel, and left, leaving him to break the news to the troops. He did promptly, and as honestly as he could, they bitched and moaned of how he was trying to get them killed. But, first, he told them his reasoning, then pointed them to see the wounded, opened bellies, severed arms. It was horrifying to see; they quieted down as the situation became crystal clear.

Then he told them that he was willing to change them out of this position with some that wanted to avenge their brothers or sisters in arms. One did leave screaming at his fellow soldiers, trying to get them to see "How futile this is."

Tarphus walked up to him and punched him in the face, "If I was not concerned that there were not that many people to transport the wounded, I would have strangled you." The others became quiet, looking at their squad leader, the sergeant was tending to another squad, so it fell to Tarphus.

He then took the soldier to the side; in a harsh voice, he simply said. "You were risking morale; they believed that they could pull through, with their battle buddies at their back." Tarphus pushed the private, "You and your big mouth almost shattered that belief. I have half my mind telling me to kill you right now d-"

The private almost screamed at him, "But it is hopeless, and you threw us into the grinder! For what so that you could play the hero? Do our lives mean so lit- Ugh!?" This interruption earned the private a punch to the jaw. "If they did not see you as a fellow battle buddy, I would kill you right now, but that would hurt morale, as they would see not one but two butchers here amongst them. So, leave now with your life but know that you are no longer welcome in my squad. If I see you again, Emperor, protect you because I will kill you."

Tarphus stopped choking the trooper and turned to gather the troops leaving the 'coward' to help the wounded.