Chapter 46: Chapter 44: Eastern Front Pt.5
In the heart of the forest that bordered the Belarus and Russian Nations, an air of tension hung heavy amidst the rustling leaves and whispering winds. Vincent and Dave led their 49 men through the dense trees towards the headquarters of the 3rd Army Group. They had embarked on a perilous journey to seek aid, their faces etched with weariness and determination.
As they finally reached the camp, Augustus, a formidable figure with a glint of recognition in his eyes, greeted them warmly. The officers of the 3rd Army Group clustered around, relieved at reinforcements. Vincent and his men collapsed wearily into the HQ tent, grateful for a moment of respite.
Vincent tore open a packet of rations, his movements slow and deliberate. The taste of the bland food did nothing to quell the heavy burden that weighed on his shoulders. With a heavy sigh, he began to recount the dire situation they faced. The plan they had meticulously crafted was crumbling before their eyes, overshadowed by the relentless advance of the monstrous Restless Ghouls.
Vincent releases a heavy sigh as he began eating his ration. "I don't know how much longer we can hold this line, Dave. This relentless advance… it's like a flood waiting to breach a dam". This earned him a nod from Dave as he drank from his canteen.
Dave narrowed his eyes as he drank another round. "We were expecting resistance, but this? It's not just intense; it's well-coordinated. They anticipate our every move". John nodded as he stared at his ration, trying to understand the events in front of him.
Then they saw Augustus walking towards them. He smiled, knowing that his leader was safe and still in one piece. "Ah, Vincent! Good to see you made it. They provided me with a briefing on your journey. Hard fought, I'm sure?"
Vincent gives him a grave nod. "More than you know. But I'm worried, Augustus. Our plan rests on establishing a firm hold here, and with every day that passes, it cracks further". Dave just shook his head in annoyance.
Augustus face falling slightly to hear that news. "You're telling me the situation is more precarious than we initially assessed?"
Dave shakes his head, knowing that their plan was questionable. "It's true. We thought we could draw them out, but they've rallied their forces—no longer just skirmishes. They're preparing for an all-out offensive".
"Aye" this was the only response that Vincent can give, bewildered etched on his face. After eating, they begin to make their way to the HQ tent to give them news about.
"Sir Vincent, what's the news from the HQ? "Asked the officer #1, and the rest were curious about situations of the Eastern Front.
"These creatures are unlike anything we have faced before." Vincent's voice was grim, his eyes reflecting the weight of leadership. "The 1st and 2nd Army Groups are holding the line in Poland, but confusion has plagued our communications for the past five days."
"What?!"
"Impossible?!"
"THE FUCK?!, WE DIDN'T HEAR THEM?!"
"SINCE WHEN?!"
"HOW THE HELL DID THOSE BASTARDS BYPASS US?"
"OUR COMRADES SHOULD AT LEAST INFORMS US!!"
WHAT TO DO?!!!
As the outrage and confusion erupted, Vincent, Dave and Augustus were looking at each other to see. The event left them all so puzzled that no one knew what to do.
Dave, his second, furrowed his brow in concern. "What are our options, General?" he asked, his voice steady despite the worry that gnawed at his insides.
Vincent's gaze swept over Augustus and the officers of the 3rd Army Group, a flicker of resolve sparking in his eyes. "We have no choice but to retreat," he announced firmly. "We must regroup and establish the second phase of our plan before it's too late."
This cause the officer #3 raised his eyebrows. "Retreat? But sir, the front lines are collapsing, and morale is low. Isn't it too late?Many of them were confused about this odd plan, so they didn't get the gist of their leader.
In a moment of synchronicity, Augustus and Dave mentioned the name "Xenophon Anabasis," drawing parallels to their current predicament. The tale of the ancient Greek general leading his troops back to safety resonated deeply with the group gathered in the forest.
Augustus begins to tell the officers, "Well, it brings to mind Xenophon's Anabasis—a strategic withdrawal to regroup and reposition, even when faced with overwhelming odds". Causing Dave to smirk as he remembers the days where he faces this kind of scenarios before.
"A bit philosophical for the battlefield, don't you think? But Augustus makes a point. A strategic retreat could allow us to reclaim our footing… if we do it wisely". Earning the two commanders nodded in agreement, Vincent let out a smile as he remembers the days where his 'friend' do the same thing.
He really missed him the times where he, John and their 'friend' do some random shits together, before they entered the war that changes everything, including the lives of its inhabitants.
Vincent sighs heavily, holding back frustration. "Wise or not, we don't have a choice. We need to think of our men. If we want a fighting chance, letting them fight on with no hope is worse than updating our objectives. We'll make this work, and we will bring them out safely."
"So, what do we tell them? How do we explain this? Morale is shaky right now as it is!" one of the officers asked, trying to see if there's any solution to this matter.
Smile form across Vincent's face as he leaned forward to face his men. "That's why I'm asking you, the officers, to communicate to our soldiers clearly. They need to understand that this isn't surrender, but a tactical retreat. We're regrouping to strategize and to hit back harder". He mentally shook his head, knowing that despite many of them doubt his leadership, due to the 'connection' he has. John trusted them, so he will trust them as well. They will know soon enough that his skills and leadership were legit as well as known by his two friends.
"It has to inspire hope, else they will feel abandoned. Invoke the legacy of Xenophon and his men—a tale of endurance and resurgence despite dire straits. They took enormous strides against the Assyrians after their retreat, and so can we". Augustus told them to know that they are the key to of this successful operation.
Someone reminded the officers of the 3rd Army Group that they are the key to making this operation successful. They were determined to make it out alive from this hell.
Dave smiles and raises his fist up in the air. "Yes! We can use that to rally the troops. Remind them of our strength and purpose! Every single soldier is a piece of this larger strategy. They need to feel part of the revival!"
The officers smiled and cheered as the morale slowly increasing; they knew that the higher ups had trusted them to pull this off. Vincent smiled as he saw them hyped up to know that they were ready .
"Before we make the operation begin, we need to know what kind of this Ghouls we're facing with and where are we going. " Vincent told them to know what kind of enemy they were facing with and information to know more about it .
Dave begins to tell the radio operator to call the John and the HQ to know that the mission was successful. Vincent asked the officers on where is the corpses of their enemies were . Now they led him to the battlefield. They saw many soldiers still cleaning the battlefield. Vincent saw two trucks carrying the corpse.
"Where did those corpses lead to, Augustus?" Vincent asked, as he and Augustus were watching as the truck leaves until it was out of sight. Soldiers scattered around to clean the battlefield and re arming the traps.
"500 miles that close to the Russian Border, we were talking about burning the corpses, yet I told them to put on hold and wait for you here," Augustus told his superior, as he takes out his canteen and drink it. Augustus looked around and begin to tell him what he was seeing.
"Do you notice that the battlefield goes quite?" Vincent also feels the uneasy silence, he looked around to see any signs, a gut feeling emerges as he tells Augustus to double the watch, Augustus nodded and rely on the order from their soldiers that they are going to double the watch.
After that, he ordered to let the two corpses brought to the HQ tent to examine it by John. Once they reached the tent, Dave told them that they managed to contact the HQ and now they are going to be lay out the information and everything they needed to know…
Once they were inside, they saw Dave preparing the laptop and a camera. As the soldiers cleaning the tables where they placed the two corpses and, they begin to discuss their next move. Vincent was curious about the creatures they were facing.
(Meanwhile)
In the heart of Paris, where the City of Light flickered with an urgency born from shadows, the headquarters buzzed like a hive under siege. Maps sprawled across tables, illuminated by flickering candles and dim screens that cast ghostly light upon worried faces. John stood at the helm, his brow furrowed with concern as he surveyed his beleaguered staff—their eyes glazed with fatigue yet sharp with determination.
A heavy silence enveloped them until a voice cut through like a blade. "Sir," came Camille's voice, steady yet laced with concern. "The 1st and 2nd Army Groups have retreated successfully but are now vulnerable. If we don't act fast…."
John's thoughts spiraled into darkness as he imagined Vincent—his brother—leading his fifty men deep behind enemy lines on the treacherous Russian-Belarus Front. He had not heard from him since they embarked on this perilous mission; it felt like an eternity since Vincent had plunged into that abyss where nightmares thrived.
"Reassess our positions," he commanded, voice steady but taut as a drawn bowstring. "We cannot afford another misstep after our first line fell. The second army group must regroup along the defensive stretch—Poland to Ukraine's western fringes."
The tension in the air crackled like static electricity as murmurs flitted through the room—a mix of fear and resolute courage danced among them. Yet beneath this veneer of bravery lay John's gnawing worry for Vincent, his brother—a soldier lost behind enemy lines on the Russian-Belarus front alongside fifty men who had gone dark since their descent into peril.
While unfurling maps and debating strategies in hurried whispers, they were suddenly interrupted by a video feed notification that shimmered to life on one of the monitors. A name appeared that sent a ripple of hope coursing through John's veins: **Vincent**.
"John!" Vincent's face filled the screen; relief washed over him like cool rain after a long drought. "We've made it! We stopped their advance—barely."
The room erupted into hushed cheers before John raised his hand for silence, leaning closer to hear every word from his brother's lips.
"What happened?" he asked urgently.
"We dove headfirst into their second wave," Vincent began breathlessly, recounting tales of chaos mingled with triumph. "We managed to halt their advance long enough to regroup and lie low in an ancient cave system we stumbled upon."
"And you met up with…?" John prompted cautiously.
"The Stranded 3rd Army Group," Vincent replied gravely from the video. "They're holding strong but are battered by waves of those… things." His grin faded slightly; shadows danced across his face as he continued, "But there is something you need to see…"
"Vincent," John pressed harder now, "What have you seen? What do you mean by those things?"
A pause stretched between them like thin ice about to crack underfoot before Vincent finally spoke again—his voice barely above a whisper yet laden with weighty revelation: "Corpses… I wanted you to see them."
As if sensing John's rising apprehension through time and space itself, Vincent shifted focus away from himself with trembling hands heavy with foreboding certainty, Vincent turned his device toward something hidden behind him—a macabre display unveiled against stone walls dripping with moisture and despair. Towards something obscured behind him in shadow—the corpses laid out before him like grim trophies.
John's stomach twisted violently when images crystallized in his mind: bodies twisted grotesquely by death—yet not just any dead; these were remnants of foes long thought vanquished during what was known only as 'the Great War' or perhaps more accurately termed 'The Resource War.' Those who fought valiantly alongside Eron K. Arisato against creatures dubbed 'Restless Ghouls' or 'Drengr,' whom humanity had believed extinguished forever.
These creatures, the ones he had faced in the portal and the city attack years ago, were back from the depths of ancient nightmares.(Author's Note Reference: Chapter 7 the same creatures that attacked the city of Detroit a few years ago when John returned from the portal)
"They've returned…" John whispered hoarsely, dread coiled around him like serpents waiting for prey. But deeper still lay questions—What? How? Why? His minds swirled with questions on how these beings returned once again.
(Meanwhile, back at Vincent's position)
"How is this possible? What are they doing here?" John gasped incredulously from the horror mingling with disbelief swirling within him like storm clouds gathering for battle.
"Brother! What's wrong! Tell me?!" asked loudly as he wanted to know and didn't prepare for the news he will receive.
John clenched his fists tightly until knuckles turned white. "We thought we defeated them," he growled softly from the video as anguish twisted within him like barbed wire coiling tighter with every word spoken aloud.
"What do you mean? Brother...." Vincent asked sharply, eyes narrowing as confusion morphed into clarity tinged with horror. As he soon realized what his brother was trying to implement. "Don't tell me that… they're back?"
"The Drengr have returned," John said gravely, his voice low yet resonant as thunder rolling over distant hills. "The Bane of Humanity itself, and we are not prepared for this darkness."
As memories surged forth like an endless tsunami crashing against fragile shores, John felt himself pulled into a vortex where time folded upon itself. He recalled days drenched in blood during what was known as the Great War—or, more accurately, named by those who survived it: the Resource War. A conflict born not merely from greed but twisted ambition; men fueled by hunger for power and dominion over nature's gifts itself only to awaken ancient horrors long thought vanquished.
Vincent's expression mirrored John's turmoil—anger flickering like embers caught in a storm's breath, grief pooling beneath hardened resolve, confusion draping over them like a shroud woven from past sins. But most potent was that shared hatred for foes who should have remained buried deep within forgotten histories.
The memories crashed upon them like an endless tsunami; flashes from battlefields littered with fallen comrades filled his mind—sights John had tried to suppress for years. His brother-in-arms, Vincent, stood nearby, equally affected yet resolute. Vincent's presence was a grounding force amidst chaos; both men bore scars not merely on their bodies but etched deeply within their souls.
"We killed them! We watched them fall! They should have remained buried! They were slain years ago!" Vincent spats bitterly before anguish clouded over determination in those fierce blue depths that mirrored John's own resolve. Doubt gnawed at him like vermin feasting upon scraps left behind after victory feasts ended too soon.
A shiver ran down both John's and Vincent's spine; another memory flooded forth unbidden—the sight of Eron battling beside them against swarms of Drengr clawing hungrily for flesh and dominance over humanity's fragile existence.
The room fell silent as they exchanged glances rife with fear—a fear compounded by memories too vivid to ignore. Each officer felt it: flashes from battles fought under blood-red skies where hope was but a fleeting whisper amidst overwhelming despair.
Suddenly visions flared forth within John and Vincent's mind—faint echoes conjuring images long buried yet vividly alive: Eron standing tall against swathes of darkness at twilight's edge; flames licking upward as foes fell beneath thunderous roars echoing across lands stained red under bloodied skies.
Then realization struck hard enough that it rattled the brother's bones: **This was no accident**—this resurgence bore purpose steeped in vengeance unquenched!
He turned sharply towards his assembled staff, whose faces reflected confusion laced deeply with resolve forged anew under threat, unrelenting still looming ever closer, threatening all they cherished dear!
"Someone is controlling them," John mused aloud as thoughts spiraled chaotically within him like winds howling through tempestuous skies. Who had reawakened such horrors? Who pulled strings cloaked beneath shadows?
"What makes you so sure?" one officer dared inquire hesitantly.
"Because I have seen it before," Vincent interjected vehemently as shards from past encounters sliced through his memories—their laughter shared under starlit skies marred by shadows lurking beyond sightlines until they consumed everything whole again.
His gaze hardened as he met each officer's stare unwaveringly; determination radiated off him like heat waves rising from sun-scorched earth after rainless days spent fighting for survival against relentless tides, pushing back at every turn toward freedom lost too soon.
As Vincent quickly realized what his brother trying to say, when he remembers the story where John spend 5 hours which equivalent 500 years from the portal (Author's Note: Reference: Chapter 1 to Chapter 6 where John left behind to fend off the enemy who were pursuing the party he participated with, the time he entered was a different time I'll explain in the next chapter, let's go back to the story) he asked about the story but, John quickly cut off and addressed the manners in front of them.
"Yes, we must find out who commands these nightmares… finish this once and for all." His words hung heavy between them, laden with promise woven tight alongside fear threading its way into hearts still beating bravely despite uncertainty looming large overhead like storm clouds pregnant with wrathful energy waiting to break free at last!
"What kind of madness is this?" one officer gasped amidst hushed whispers echoing through stone halls laden with history.
"It matters not what madness drives them!" roared Vincent suddenly—his voice fierce enough to rattle shields hung along walls adorned with victories past—but there lay vulnerability beneath bravado's veneer. "We must find out who dares orchestrate this nightmare! Only then can we end it! Before it consumes us all," Vincent continued cautiously.
As his eyes darkened further at an unseen memory creeping into view—the sight of Eron falling beneath waves of enemies yet rising again through sheer willpower alone. At that moment, silent acknowledgment passed between brothers. They had faced oblivion together before; it was time to embrace destiny once more.
"Vincent's right! We must rally every ally we have—we will not allow history's darkest moments to repeat themselves," he declared fiercely, igniting flames flickering within each heart present resonating throughout halls echoing promises made long ago!
Vincent clenched his fists until knuckles whitened with resolve igniting within him—a fire stoked by grief transforming into purpose. "We must discover who has pulled these strings," he declared fiercely, determination gleaming in his eyes like polished steel ready for combat.
As plans took shape amid fervent discussions unfolding over maps strewn across tables littered haphazardly throughout HQ—all marked meticulously detailing enemy positions known only too well—the brothers vowed silently amongst themselves never again would they allow history's cruel repeat play out unchecked!.
A silence fell over both HQs—an unspoken vow binding brothers across distance forged through trials endured alone yet together: they would hunt down this puppeteer lurking behind shadows cast long ago when peace seemed attainable but fleeting—an enemy hidden amidst allies wearing familiar faces masked in deception.
After the midst of the tension, John agreed to Vincent's proposal: a tough call to initiate a full retreat in a last-ditch effort to regroup and set the stage for the second phase of their plan. Though it seemed like an uphill battle, the men knew they had to press on. They dismiss for today , to prepare themselves for the unknown.
The night passed fitfully, the flickering campfire casting dancing shadows on the grim faces of the men. With the first light of dawn, they began to prepare for the arduous journey ahead. Their objective loomed before them, a daunting task that would test their mettle to the core.
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