I am still here, guys!

ikanisfish: Thanks for the headsup! You've been here since February so take a break when you need one. And honestly, I'm kind of surprised Kurt is your's and AJ's favorite side character. I didn't think anyone was going to care about him haha

An Eldian's Journal

The Soul of War

Chapter 36: A Lovely Trench

Sergeant Kaslow the Pig chortled after he informed us of his deception. A literal demonic clown was in front of us, minus the face paint. I never wanted to punch a man harder than him. Although, I do say that quite a bit.

Viktor wiggled out of the door, trying to put his pants on, but he ended up face-first on the ground when he tripped on his boot. Kaslow laughed again, so much so that another rat revealed itself to us humans again and watched the maniacal man with a watchful gaze before running to harass other barracks.

Kaslow's chuckles sputtered down like an engine on its final fumes. The bunkmates and I couldn't help but sigh in some deserved annoyance.

"Alright, devils. Hop onto those trucks over there. We are heading to an abandoned set of trenches."

Everyone jogged over to the army vehicles, but something stopped me from doing so. A heavy hand had squeezed on my shoulder. I turned around to see a focused Kaslow. "Steiner, I need to tell you something." His eyes rocked about as if he was looking for something. "You keep an eye on that husenbooglerwooder, you hear? If he ever asks anything of you, you tell me first."

"W-What's wrong, sarge?"

"This is the only time I'll let you question me...Either there is something the higher ups aren't telling me, or this man has forged papers to get here. I don't know what he is here to do..." I was confused as to why Kaslow specifically asked me of all the cadets. Maybe he questioned everyone individually already.

Kaslow continued. "I saw him approaching the barracks here on his own earlier while everyone else was heading to the dining room." His face twinged. "Or Steiner, is there something you aren't telling me? Are you in leagues with him? I know both of you are related to section F."

"Of course not, sarge. I got here underneath Magath's suggestion." The nervousness temporarily burned through my sleepiness.

"Hmph...get on that bus before he sees us."

I got myself on the bus while Kaslow did his best to catch up. We stuffed ourselves inside like teeth in the rows of a mouth. The vehicle hummed its nighttime song while we got in. It was the beautiful sound of engine pistons being kicked in the ass by petrol to get up and do something.

While we went on our way, Kaslow gave us a history lesson underneath the diminishing light. Unfortunately, we had to see his face, but fortunately, it got harder and harder with the increasing gain in the distance from light poles.

"Ok, devils...and Husenboogerburger..." The wall-keeper rose his head from a seat. "...the trenches we are going to were used in an old skirmish Marley had with the mid-east allies a while ago. You all are going to see the real terrain of war...albeit in the darkness."

"Why are we not going during daytime?" The wall keeper refuted.

"It's safer at night." A wrinkle of annoyance flickered on Kaslow's brow along with a glare that lasted more than it should have. Kaslow's schedule of training was far from standard. He made us use rifles on day one, which is quite atypical for average training regimes, and he introduced us to legitimate trenches in the nighttime without even seeing them in the daytime first.

I yawned as a response to the brief history presented. It let out a chain reaction of yawns in the bunkmates. Yawning really is contagious.

"Why did you have to yawn, dammit? You made me yawn." Milo hissed while throwing me side-glances.

"It just happened." Milo was my favorite bully. He was such a simple asshole, bereft of complexity a regular human should have.

When silence had suffocated the air to its fullest potential, we followed a nonexistent path through a forest. Gentle giants in the form of trees ached; they must have been waiting in line to get turned into paper for us humans to use. Despite the aching trees, patterns in the ground grew visible from afar.

One would have thought a giant serpent had slithered in the ground, or maybe it was two different serpents. But it was just the remnants of the horrific dance of venom-filled guns and fanged humans.

A thirty-minute plus drive had come to a close. We pried ourselves out of the army trucks and took in the construction before us. The former battlefield was a wrinkly face sagging due to the steps of soldiers that had become ghosts. The prickly barbed wires were braces for the rows of misshapen teeth that were the trenches. Sandbags surrounded the trenches like dusty lips, and wood planks were the gums.

What an ugly face. The previous day's rain did its best to wash out the dirty mouth of the trench; it failed.

Kaslow led us down the path that lowered into the trenches. The dirt's moisture took in my feet as if it was excited for some fresh flesh to walk upon it again. The no-man's land, the area between the trenches of enemy forces, was littered with barbed wire in the same abundance as grass. There was only so much I could see underneath the darkness, however.

A sense of claustrophobia enveloped me when I reached the floor of the trench. A multitude of soldiers must have crawled through those trenches daily previously like mice chasing the cheese of victory.

Kaslow turned on a flashlight, and the path grew illuminated with the artificial sun.

Kaslow pointed out the anatomy of the trench. The dugout was where high-ranked officers would go into a hollowed-out part of the ground to plan and discuss their missions. Some other dugouts lead to rooms of beds and storage for regular soldiers.

Of course, this got Viktor's attention. He whispered to Kurt and me. "Hey, do you wanna go into the dugout?" The cadets kept walking past us.

"Viktor, nothing good ever happens when you enter an unlit place...especially when the place is the battlefield."

"Come on." Viktor dragged Kurt and me to the dugout entrance. Other cadets shuffled past us. The opening was as tall as an average person and covered with a drab curtain. Kurt murmured, "One of us is gonna get hurt by the end of this."

Viktor gave us some poorly timed sarcasm. "Well, Kurt, you said you wanted to die in a useful way, so sacrifice yourself for us if something falls over our heads."

A lack of light greeted us upon moving the curtain of the dugout. Our trio walked in nonetheless, and Viktor scrambled to pull something from his uniform. He then reached underneath his armband to pull out a box of matches. I was confused by the convenience of the situation, "Why do you have matches?"

"Just in case I need to burn something." Viktor dragged the tip of the match against the unseeable wall, and a faint flame revealed itself. The walls were restrained waves held together in a canvas frame of wooden, square-shaped poles. Crates were littered around like blotches of paint. There was something a tad unusual about it all, though.

The boys' let out reserved "ahhs" for the preserved trench; it accompanied a rustling in the ceiling that I hadn't thought much of that moment. We trod lightly on the floor; the sandstone was silent under our feet. Crates were lined with cans; only incomplete sets, though, since those before us must have taken some cans on their journeys to enjoy the fine cuisine encased in their cylindrical walls.

We continued stepping around gently until one of our stomachs purred in hunger. It was Kurt's. His face liked twitching, and so did his stomach, apparently. Viktor pointed at a can, "You should try one of those, Kurt." As he walked over to a crate and lit another match for lighting, we heard the Wall-keeper throw a few words of warning in the distance past the canvas-like walls.

So did Viktor as he grasped the metal cylinder. "I can't read what this stuff says. It...It doesn't look Marleyan."

The wall-keeper in the distance: "Sergeant, this trench doesn't look...Marleyan. I think we are in the mid-east forces trench."

The rustling in the ceiling grew as we listened in on the officers in the distance.

Kaslow replied with violence I could sense even through the walls of the room. "What are you talking about?"

"I picked up this fez on the ground. Only the mid-east people wear these."

"So what? It's not like any of those guys from that last battle would still be here. They should be dead by now!"

"That's right...but what about their traps?"

A pause ensued. "Hmm... You're right." Another pause followed. "Hey...this isn't a school field trip, dammit! Viktor, Steiner, Circus Monkey, where the hell are you three?!"

Viktor whispered, "Shit." The rustling reached its climax and shut off when an unexpected friend dropped from the ceiling: a rat with a bag. We all shot back to the respective walls behind us.

Kurt asked in a hushed voice. "Did you guys see any tripwires when walking in?"

"Umm..No?" I didn't know what a tripwire was, but I said no on reflex in the situation's tension.

Kurt sighed. "Oh... that's good. That means we won't get blown up then."

The rat squirmed around, looking for a place to go. Viktor's match burned out, and we lost our light. We only had a sound to guide the black. "What do we do now, Kurt?" Viktor asked while he rummaged through something.

"I don't know! You got us in this mess."

"But...you know. You always know!"

"Don't bring that shit up now!" Kurt's shouting was only answered by the rat squeaks. The sounds of it pattering about kept us against the walls since the last thing we needed was rat bites and rabies. Its pattering ceased for a few seconds until it accelerated again, and we heard the largest squeak of them all.

I would like to inform you that you don't have to worry about bombings from the sky. Those are pretty over the top and unnecessary for the situation we faced. Thanks to that pathetic rat, we encountered something more neighborly than a bomb from the sky, something that's trivial in comparison.

I thought there weren't any tripwires, mainly because I didn't know what they were in general.

***A FACT***

A tripwire was present the whole time

It did a great job at hiding

The largest squeak of that day came in the form of an explosion. A portion of the ceiling loosened, and the rocks rained onto me. They pushed me back first into the ground, and I entered an alternative form of darkness: the bliss of unconsciousness.

"Heinrich!"

That name floated about while I rested on my mattress of packed sandstone underneath my bedsheet of debris. The name's consonants and vowels wiggled about in the canvas drenched with black ink that was my vision. I fluttered in and out of consciousness, and every time I opened my eyes, the dust would pepper the black canvas. It was like space with stars.

After a few moments, this canvas began to break down. The darkness of my rock-filled cocoon was relieved by the removal of a few rocks from my upper body. My name was called out a few more times by the devils I held dear.

I couldn't see their faces. But I heard their voices.

They continued to push rocks off me, and I fluttered in-between consciousness and unconsciousness. I coughed out the burning dust in my throat as they pulled me out of the pile. They then set me on the floor.

Viktor lit another match, and I could see the faces again, albeit clothed with meandering swirls of dust looking for a place to go.

I asked haphazardly, "Did you guys not get caught in the rubble?"

Viktor responded while looking up at the crumbling ceiling, "Kurt pulled me out from a pile."

Kurt added on, "We'll get caught in some again if we don't get out of here."

The boys' helped me up, and we walked over to the entrance. The rat from earlier had been smothered by the crumbling cake that was the ceiling. The rodent's raspberry jam sprayed in a few directions, which made for some cruel but oh so sweet revenge.

We arrived at the entrance to find it blocked with debris. Viktor cursed, and Kurt gave a constructive idea; the latter said would make for a helpful man during a crisis. "Let's hide in the crates until everyone can find us." Viktor looked like he was about to argue until a rock hit his back, and he bolted towards a crate.

We each found decently sized crates to use but made sure to pull out the cans before hopping inside. When I was in, rubble pounded on the crate like criminals breaking into a home. Thoughts flooded my head as to why we were hiding in crates instead of trying to take down the rubble to get out.

These thoughts kept my mind occupied as we waited for some help to arrive. Fortunately, the sound of the explosion made the help come rather quickly.

Kaslow's yelling knocked on the entrance as I heard rubble get pulled out slowly piece by piece by multiple cadets. Someone shone a flashlight in through the cracks; the artificial sun was a welcoming sight.

Enough rubble was pulled out that the wall-keeper could step over and come in to rescue us. Dust from above greeted him. He first pulled out Kurt and took him through the partially cleared entrance. Viktor was next, and I was last.

The flashlight illuminated the right side of the wall-keeper, and his gaze lingered on me, hiding in the crate longer than it should have.

"Sir?" The word cowered from my mouth. "What are you doing?!" Kaslow called out. The wall-keeper looked to his left and then back at me. He pulled me out from the crate and took me to the entrance.

Me and the boys took in as much oxygen as we could, for our lungs were parched of fresh air. Kurt, especially though since his lungs were the poorest of all thanks to his wonderful asthma. Kaslow, however, didn't give us much time to recuperate.

"What the hell happened in there?!" He yelled.

Viktor answered in-between breaths, "I'm not sure sarge. There was...umm..." Kurt filled in the answer in-between labored breaths as well. "There was no light in there, but we heard a rat on the floor. It may have triggered an invisible tripwire."

The despicable clown gritted his teeth and took out his baton. He bashed Viktor across the face, and the so-called fighter wobbled to the ground. "I'm sure he's the one that dragged you two in...hmph...we spend all this time training you three and you try doing some shit like that?...You know why a tripwire was in there? To kill fools like you."

Kaslow turned his back on us, and the other cadets watched like ghosts, unsure of how to react. He said one more thing. "No matter how you three got here, you are my investments. I don't like things I put time into go to waste."

We all got onto the army vehicle to return to the training camp.

Kurt had a good hunch, though. When he said, "one of us is gonna get hurt by the end of this," he wasn't entirely wrong.

The boys and I were sent to the medical tent, but we were greeted with beds of less than functioning humans upon our arrival. Some were sleeping due to nighttime, but others were gnawing on bandages since their painkillers were running out. The nurse we met a month before then greeted the boys and me by shoving us out of the way and attending to a patient. Her snake-like hair peered around her shoulder, and it slithered about.

The nurse glanced at us from her patient's bed, and it took a few looks before she recognized us.

"You three are the ones that stole my alcohol from a month ago, aren't you?" She looked at us from head to toe, and her expression softened. "W-What happened to you three?"

Thanks to that slightly less stressful moment, the adrenaline I was functioning on was beginning to wear off, and I felt some potential wounds. I could tell Viktor and Kurt were feeling it as well since they started making some sour expressions. It seemed that the event took a while to catch up to us.

She set us down on a few spare beds and started examining us. The scrapes and bruises that I had finally came to my attention, and their pain began to sink. Viktor also appeared to be having some issues, thanks to the baton's blunt force. Kurt was the least damaged of us physically, and the nurse said he could go back to the barracks.

Viktor and I had a sleepover in the medical tent, in separate beds, of course.

After applying a few bandages here and there, the nurse sat at a desk while scanning the room. Viktor and I laid on our backs while looking up at the high point of the tent. There were lamps set up across the tent as always, and their flames licked the edges of the tent.

It was a great setting to fall asleep and skip time, but no. I was wide awake along with Viktor.

The fighter said with an uncomfortably loud volume, "Hey, sorry for almost killing you, Heinrich."

I gave him the silent treatment. There is only so much stupidity that I can swallow. Nonetheless, I got my revenge on him a later month.

Revenge.

I rested my head on my ear and noticed a free bed on my right. A few memories began flashing of Viktor in the internment zone doing his usual deeds. His constant need to fight and his concept of pain making it easier to forget one's own issues were rather bizarre, but in general, he seemed to be that one friend everyone has. Everyone has that one friend that acts out because they are hiding some emotional struggle.

But does anyone have that friend that pours hot liquids on you to teach their philosophy on pain and how you should embrace it?

That's Viktor.

I wanted to be like him then. Of course, I don't want to anymore. Who wants to be like a dead guy? (just in case you needed a reminder.)

I broke the silent treatment and asked quietly, "Viktor, do you remember that one day where you took that candle—" Viktor didn't even acknowledge my question. "—Oh come on, why are you quiet now?"

It took a few more seconds before he looked over and let out a loud, "HUH?" It turned out that baton bash gave his hearing some temporary issues. One of the partially functioning humans in the other beds yelled at us with partial coherency, "Hey!... I'm tryna sleep here..." He winded down and went back to sleep.

With eyes wide awake, I played memories of old. Memories that encased themselves in a veil of fantasy, a romanticization of the only decent moments I had. What else was there to do when you just cheated death?

The morning came along, and the night nurse was replaced by a woman with a maternal demeanor. I guess all the good nurses have shifts during the day, and the leftover ones take the night shifts. A few more showed up, and they went about their duties, fixing up the damaged humans and cracking an occasional joke to put the soldier boys at ease.

One of the nurses came around to check on my wounds. I didn't feel much at first, but when the morning mental honeymoon started to fade, my body remembered that it was supposed to be wounded. My eyes kept darting about the tent until they locked onto something coming through the entrance. It was a partially grown human limping about with confusion dripping off his face.

The armband wasn't grey.

It was a warrior candidate.

"Falco?" I mumbled from my bed. The nurse looking over me, rushed over to the boy that once carried a golden smile. "What's wrong, sweety?"

"I think I twisted my ankle."

"Let's go to that bed over there."

I immediately turned my face away from the approaching warrior candidate. I didn't want him to know that the chewed-up person on the bed next to him was me. The nurse asked Falco what happened that caused the twisted ankle etc., while I kept my head turned away. I got to watch Viktor itch himself as he woke up.

A different nurse came by and asked Viktor and me something with a sneer. "Hey, I didn't see you two yesterday. Did you sign in?" Viktor just groaned in pain. "That's what I thought. What are your names?"

I answered. "Uhh...my name is Kurt."

Viktor's ears must have gone back to normal. "Hey, Heinrich, you're not going retarded now, are you?" I ignored Viktor's poor choice of words and narrowed it down on my name. The nurse continued. "Stop messing around. Tell me your names so I can put them on the record."

We gave our names, and the nurse walked away. I gulped and slowly turned my head along with my pillow towards Falco. His eyes were stitched onto me, and his dark blonde hair slightly moved back in coordination with the surprise on his face. "H-Heinrich?"

"Yes. It's me, Falco."

"Why do you look hurt every time I see you?"

I lowered my lip in expectation of an answer, but none was there to be handed out.