The blue sky that was supposed to be filled with peace and tranquility, was now covered with dark clouds that blocks the sunlight.
Plains, hills, forests, or any kind of ecosystems that spread throughout the world are almost wiped out, the same with humanity's artificial creations.
The cities that housed millions if not tens of millions were now a shadow of their former glory, as buildings were destroyed, houses were flattened and millions were lost, ever adding to the total casualties ranging from billions.
Under the dark clouds that covered the sky, columns of soldiers were seen marching despite the harsh weather they were currently experiencing.
They marched as ashes fall and thunders seemingly mocked them in the far distance. Tens of thousands marched, not knowing what the future holds for them.
They were not the usual twenty-first century soldiers – though they resemble one. This column of soldiers, or rather a ragtag of broken, sick, and starving mass of people were the remnants of the seventeenth corps of the UFE. They were conposed of various ethnicity from Europe, who are mainly composed of French, Polish, and German.
They were all covered with heavy clothing head to toe, in order to be not covered in radioactive ash. Some have gas masks while the others were left with unclean rags in order to at least filter the unclean air they breathe.
They continued marching while some carried the injured and sick that were too weak to march on their own.
Yet despite all that, they kept marching. After all, no matter how small the chance for salvation is, they still must try.
Even though they literally lost everything they hold dear, they must keep marching. They don't want the deaths of their loved ones and comrades to be meaningless, hence they tried to keep pushing forward, not for themselves, but to those who were not here with them.
They saw their comrades whom they fought countless battles with, die in the side of road, either succumbing to radiation or starvation. One by one they fell, giving them the peace they longed for. In death, they shall finally rest.
No matter how skilled, powerful, and experienced you are, it's all the same. Radiation and illness would get you no matter what.
Erich sighed as he tried to fix his jammed rifle. He was marching with his men; except he was one of the few that were marching the front of the column.
He was clad with clothes and rags in order to prevent nuclear ash, frostbite, infections, and radiation into harming him. His face was equipped with a gas mask, which was barely operational.
He was Erich Gunther, a German Lieutenant General in the Seventeenth army corps of the UFE that has sixty-seven thousand soldiers throughout the war. Though their numbers currently were reduced to a pitiful size, barely even reaching the size of a division.
To call him tired was an understatement since he felt exhaustion at every corner of his body. He grunted as he felt overwhelming pain whenever he moves – since his previous wounds were still not yet healed.
After all, they barely have medical supplies to at least heal their injured and tired bodies. Their situation was also dire as food and water were scarce and they were running out of them, making each one of them, reliant on scavenging parties.
But it was never enough as some of their scavenging parties never returned because of ambushes, making the procurement of resources and supplies harder than it should be.
Mutants, ghouls, and bandits also tried to kill them in their retreat from Russia, making their morale at its lowest.
Erich thought that they should just give up and rest in some city out there, but he just can't. No matter how dim the light was, they must keep pushing forward.
A man then called him out of his thoughts as he slung his rifle on his back.
"Erich!" Shouted the man as he drew closer to him.
The man was also clad with clothes and rags in order to prevent frostbite and infections harming his already torn and tired body. He also has a broken gas mask in his face, which was barely operational.
"What do you want Jean?" Erich asked in a raspy voice.
He was Jean Mercier, a French Major General that commanded a division in their corps.
"Were dropping like flies out here. We barely have gas masks for everyone, and we barely have food for a week. The same with medicines and supplies, I reckon we would only last for a couple of weeks." Jean said grimly as he rubbed both his hands for warmth.
"Why don't we just settle in some destroyed city out there, I reckon even the government can't help us right now." Jean continued.
Erich kind of agreed with him. The government may very well be destroyed, leaving them with no help whatsoever.
But despite that, they still must try.
Erich sighed as he tries to cover his assault rifle with clothing and rags to prevent it from being damaged by the ash and slung it on his back.
"You know that if we stop right now, then it's all over. Even if chances are at an all-time low, we still must try." Erich replied.
Jean groaned as he doubted Erich.
"Come on Jean, have you completely lost faith in me?" Erich asked as he tapped him on the back.
Jean thought for a moment as he stopped marching and faced him. Jean's eyes were not visible, but he knew that he was looking at his eyes.
"No, it's not that I lost faith, I'm just… I'm just thinking about everything you know. If there's a small chance we're saved, what then? Can we really live like human beings after all of this?" Jean asked with his voice almost at the breaking point.
Erich was silent as he can't come up with a reply, yet Jean wasn't finished yet.
"We lost everything! Everything we fucking cared was gone!" Jean shouted as his voice starts to shake.
"We did everything we can do damn it! We fought in a war we don't want to, losing our fucking humanity in the process! And now, everything we did, every sacrifice that was done, it all became meaningless…"
Erich listened as his friend broke and sobbed quietly.
All of them, lost everything they had. Their families, lovers, wealth, future and humanity were lost, giving them no purpose in living and surviving.
But Erich knew that wasn't the case. He grabbed Jean's shoulder as he comforted him.
"It wasn't meaningless. Just because we haven't found the meaning of all their deaths and sacrifices, that doesn't mean that they were all meaningless. As long as we live, we can still find and give purpose for all of their sacrifices."
Jean looked at Erich for a second as he digested his words before nodding.
They then entered a city devoid of any life, in which they saw broken and tall skyscrapers that looked like tombstones. They also saw flattened and destroyed houses that were barely recognizable while they marched, making most of Erich's men lose hope in returning to their homes.
He then looked at the sky as overwhelming dread and regret filled his mind. It was filled with dark clouds, obstructing the sunlight their world desperately needed.
He looked at the dark cloudy skies with longing in his eyes as he shed a tear.
I'm sorry, it seems like I failed…
He thought as he suppressed his tears and cries.
The war should have ended months earlier after their huge offensive. Yet just because of a man's ego, the world as they knew it, became a barren wasteland barely able to keep life from being extinguished.
He balled his fist as he tried to suppress his hatred and anger towards their leaders.
The Russian State tried to negotiate with them with their prewar borders in the middle stages of the war.
Of course, their government refused which was understandable. Who would want to return with their pre-war borders and just call it a day? All the lives wasted on that war would be meaningless if they were to accept it.
Yet as time passed on and as the last stages of the war were drawing near, their government's terms became more unreasonable to the point that they won't accept nothing but an unconditional surrender.
After all, in the government's eyes, Russia won't launch every nuke they have against them and start a nuclear holocaust. The Russian-Ukraine War that started at twenty-twenty two was their justification, as Russia warned the West numerous times that they will be forced to use WMDs if they were put to shove, but they didn't.
Erich's thought then dissipated as they then reached a huge road in which Erich saw something, making him stop. His soldiers also followed suit as they can't believe what they were seeing.
They came across a medieval army armed with swords, spears and shields. The medieval army also stopped as they saw Erich's men.
The medieval army composed of knights and cavalry in the front, while some weird looking men with dark blue robes with a staff in hand was at the very back.
To say that Erich and his men was confused, was an understatement.
Were they finally going insane? Did the radiation finally get on their brain? Most of them asked themselves in confusion as they tried to rationalize their situation.
Yet before they can come up with a logical conclusion, the medieval army charged at them as their cavalry lead the attack.
With quick reflexes, Erich unslung his rifle and let out a quick burst of fire. His men followed suit as they also returned fire.
Sounds of shots reverberated across the whole city as they massacred quite a lot of cavalrymen in the first minute of the engagement.
Shouts of men were heard as Erich's men put lead to the charging enemy.
The hundreds of cavalries that charged them became a dozen in which at least three managed to reach their position.
They rampaged for a couple of seconds before being silenced by Erich's men.
Their knights also charged while the cavalries were massacred in front of their eyes.
Either it was because of foolishness or bravery, Erich and his men couldn't care less as they kept firing to the unknown medieval army.
Erich's men fired as they retreated, while the knights draw closer from their position. Other soldiers prepared for melee combat as they hold their weapons, preparing to break, cut, or pierce the enemy.
They dealt huge casualties among the medieval army, but they still kept charging while men in robes at the back and rears used spell like projectiles to harm Erich's soldiers.
Erich saw magic like spells varying from different elements and composition head towards them as the enemies' mages rained magic upon them.
Some hit them, giving them dozens of casualties. His men were electrocuted, burned, impaled, and blown away as the knights finally got close to them.
What followed suite, devolved into a messy and brutal melee combat. Heads were smashed, limbs were cut off, guts flew, and blood were spilled as both sides battled for supremacy.
Erich's men fought with issued shovels, makeshift bats, damaged pipes, and rusted blades, but they fought as years of experience crept on their body once again.
Yet despite the medieval army's expertise and proficiency in close quarter combat, they were being outclassed and outmatched by Erich's men.
After all, they were the veterans of the biggest and most brutal war in humanity's history. Armed with shovel that has razor like edges in its sides, Erich ran and heads towards the presumed enemy general that has the most expensive and grandiose armor and equipment among the other knights.
He then met two knights blocking his way. Erich then heads towards the knight on his right, swinging his shovel right in his neck, cutting through his upper torso.
The knight stopped and watched in horror as he saw his comrade die, in which Erich capitalized on as he spun his body, getting the shovel out of his victim, in which he then swung and cut the other knight's head.
He then continued heading towards the enemy general that was still on horseback while a fireball flew past him, hitting a soldier behind him.
The soldier screamed behind him as he burned, yet he continued running towards his objective, mourning comes later he thought. Screams and calls for help were heard across the battlefield as each side battled without any reservation for human life whatsoever.
Erich ran as he toss his shovel in his left hand and grabbed his fifty-caliber handgun with his right hand.
A knight then came charging at Erich and he fired, making the knight's head explode and splatter brain matter across the ground.
He then saw a soldier struggling as the knight's sword almost reached his neck, in which Erich helped and killed the knight off.
He ran a couple more yards while killing more knights. With his blood drenched shovel, he swung horizontally as he plunged his shovel against another knight's neck, making it spurt blood.
The enemy's general saw him and the battle that was unfolding. Scared and surprised, he tried to scream orders of retreat as he realized that they were losing, but his head was then blown off by Erich's handgun before he could even shout them.
The enemies looked at the lifeless body of their general with dread and fear.
They began to falter as few ran, leaving the others to fend for themselves. One knight started fleeing, followed by a dozen, and then all hell came loose.
The army ran as they couldn't find the courage to continue fighting against Erich's army.
Yet Erich and the others won't let them retreat as he ordered his forces to pursuit and neutralize them.
"Don't let the bastards escape! Catch them in a pincer attack!" Erich barked as his forces then split in to three groups, each commanded by his division commanders.
Erich led the attack in the first group, with Jean and his men following behind him.
They were winning Erich thought, but something really bothered him. Who were they fighting? Why did they attack them? Where did they come from?
What the hell is going on!?
Erich asked in his mind as he ran and chased after the retreating army.
The knights and mages ran while the soldiers slaughtered them without any mercy.
He reckoned that their ammunition would become completely non-existent if the battle lasted much longer.
Their enemies ran as they relentlessly chased and killed them off, giving them no rest nor break whatsoever.
Miłosz Gorski, a Polish division commander lifts his assault rifle and began unloading lead onto the enemy.
He was currently leading the third attack group against the medieval army.
The knights fell like flies as Miłosz's men relentlessly killed and chased them despite the occasional jamming of their weapons.
Its even a miracle their firearms still worked as months of neglect rendered most of their weapons broken. They were barely any tools that could maintain the effectiveness of their weapons, making them rely on what resource they can gather that could at least make their weapons still work.
Gunshots reverberated across the battlefield as they silenced the enemies cries, pleads, and screams without mercy nor reservation for any human life.
Then a huge shadow loomed over them, making Miłosz and his men look up.
They watched in surprise as a huge red reptile with bat like wings hovered above them, with its huge mouth preparing to attack.
Its red hard scales shimmered despite the lack of sunlight as it then spit a fireball, engulfing four men with flames.
Miłosz smelled burnt flesh as he watched the wyvern with anger as it kill his men.
He should have felt fear and dread, but the only thing he could feel right now was hatred. Hatred for the enemy that dared kill his men.
Maybe if he saw something like it back then, he might have run and never looked back.
But he wasn't the scared and weak boy he was back then, hence he lifted his rifle and fired, while the others soon followed.
Miłosz and his men fired relentlessly unto the wyvern, damaging its abdomen and wings, making the wyvern roar in pain.
He then saw a couple of mages in a far distance chant a weird and undistinguishable language while stretching their staffs towards the wyvern.
The orb in the top of their staffs glowed, while the wyvern was then covered with a blue aura, giving it more protection and endurance.
Their bullets then became useless as the wyvern shrugged it all off with little to no effort, but Miłosz wasn't done yet.
As the wyvern dived into them, Miłosz then unslung his PSRL from his back; put it in his shoulder and looked at the electronic sight. The electronic sight was broken, making him rely on his own initiative and focus.
Their PSRLs was upgraded with precision guided rockets, but with the nuclear holocaust, it rendered most of their electronics unusable.
He aligned the dead sights in his eyes as he focused and looked at the diving wyvern with its mouth still open, preparing for another fireball.
He pulled the trigger, and the rocket flew as it made its way into the wyvern's abdomen. It exploded as its guts rained upon them, in which the wyvern finally fell on the ground lifelessly.
The knights and mages watched in dread and fear as their wyvern died from the monsters that used inhumane and powerful dark magic.
After all, only the dark magic's of old can replicate the amount of destruction they are capable of.
Upon looking at their situation, they then lost all hope and ran away, leaving the others to fend for themselves. The knights and mages ran behind them and stopped as the only chance for salvation dashed away from them.
The soldiers blocked their escape route, with a huge metal like humanoid, taller than most of them stood in front of the soldiers.
All the blood was drained from their body as the metal like humanoid looked at them with its red colored eyes full with hatred and vengeance.
Standing more than seven feet tall, the humanoid was covered with complex part that is made in some kind of metal.
The being carried a big weapon that has a lot of holes in the end, while a long belt with cylindrical metals that came from his back was connected to his weapon.
They gulped and looked behind them. They saw the other soldiers come up with them, as they were caught in a pincer attack.
Faced with death, they try to make a last stand in the middle of the road as at least a couple of thousand bundled up and made a tortoise formation with their shields while some mages were at the middle.
The soldiers covered with blood and flesh slowly walked to them, not even using their staves or their dark magic to massacre them.
"Surrender and you shall live. Fight and you shall perish." Milosz said in a stern tone on a microphone so that it can be heard by the medieval army.
The knights and mages looked at each other in confusion, as they didn't understand Miłosz words.
"Sir, with all due respect, should we really take prisoners?" One of his officers asked.
"Yes, for gathering information." Miłosz said.
"But sir, we barely have food for ourselves, and we can't feed them all." Reasoned the officer.
"Who says we're feeding them?" Milosz asked as the knights and mages slowly drop their weapons and raise their hands.
Kovács Attila, a Hungarian division commander lead his second attack group as they slaughtered thousands upon thousands of knights and mages that were isolated.
He ran despite the agonizing wounds he still has on his body, making him groan at each yard he makes.
His men were also the same as they were battered and weakened because of the diseases, infections, and wounds that pestered their body.
But despite all that, they kept pushing forward. They maybe the shadow of their former selves, but they were still veterans of the Great War.
They may have lost everything, but they still haven't lost their willpower and determination to fight.
They then saw a couple of mages with their hands raised forward while bright sharp shards formed in their hands.
A barrage of bright sharp shards then flew towards his men, impaling a dozen while the others quickly eliminated the threat.
He saw one of his men faces go pale and fall to the ground. He looked at the man with overwhelming guilt and regret since he couldn't save him.
He looked at him and continued running. He doesn't have time to mourn for the men they lost now and the least he can do was grant them victory so that their lives won't be in vain.
And amidst the chaos, a man equipped with a grandiose armor colored black and yellow appeared in their right rear – as he hid inside the rubbles.
He has black hair and white fair skin. His physique wasn't bulky nor skinny, it was just the perfect size and weight for both speed and agility. His spear wasn't like a normal spear as its tip glowed with a bright yellowish aura.
He lunged at the closest soldier with inhumane speed and impaled him with his spear, in which the tip of the spear then created three dragons like lightning that heads towards the others.
The lightning then claimed three lives, in which their burnt bodies fell and some of their body parts became ashes.
You fucker!
Kovács screamed in his mind as he grabbed his fifty Cal handgun and fired it towards him.
The man then swiftly dodged the bullets and head towards another unsuspecting man and swung his spear.
The soldier lost his head and fell, making Kovács much angrier if he wasn't already
His men reacted quickly as a soldier equipped with a PSRL fired his precision guided missile into the enemy.
It was one of their only operational PSRL that has precision guided rockets and modifications that still work.
The man tried to dodge it, yet even his inhumane speed can't outrun a rocket as fast as a sound.
The rocket reached the man and exploded, making the others shout in glee.
Yet the man wasn't dead yet as it only destroyed his left arm and burned the left side of his body.
Limping, he ran and tried to escape but he was then shot in his leg by Kovács, making him lose balance and trip.
Miłosz walked towards him and put his boots into his chest, while the enemy panted heavily.
"You messed with the wrong people fucker." Kovács said as he brought his handgun into his face.
The spear man in hand looked at the end of the barrel of his gun with fear and dread as he knows that the moment it spews a light, he would be dead.
Filled with hatred, he put his finger into the trigger and prepares to kill him, except an officer stopped him.
"Sir!" The officer shouted.
"What? You're trying to stop me?" Miłosz sternly asked as he glared the officer.
He gulped and explained.
"I believe that he'll be valuable to us sir in the long run, alive. We can't just kill someone like him with supernatural capabilities." The officer said almost stuttering.
Kovács can't deny that this person right here could be valuable, but he won't just let all those men that died for nothing.
Yet he could prove useful in the long run, maybe as a bargaining chip or an accomplice, he doesn't know, but he's valuable to say the least.
He sighed, in the end rationality and pragmatism won over him.
"Let the others restrain him and get him in a secure position. The others, with me!" Kovács ordered and continued pursuing their enemies.
The medieval army ran away as Kovács and his men gave pursuit. Some surrendered but the others continued fighting until the end.
He couldn't careless, he just wants the whole thing to be over. He reckoned that at least hundreds may have already lost their lives in their side.
Though he's sure that at least tens of thousands have died in the enemies side, making the ratio quite high.
"Sir! Our drones caught sightings of another cavalry battalion and an infantry regiment in the north, just fourteen blocks away. The cavalry is at least three hundred thirty in size while the infantry is at least eight thousand and four hundred!" An officer shouted to Kovács.
Kovács chuckled as he heard the details that escaped in his officer's mouth. It was quite the number, yet Kovács knew it was nothing compared to the Russians.
"Isolate them and cut all streets leading from their main force! I reckon that they must have tried to regroup with their forces but got lost!" Kovács shouted so that the others can relay his orders.
"Did you see any mages?" He asked with seriousness in his tone.
Most of their deaths were from magic like attacks or some supernatural being that has inhumane powers; hence he knew that the elimination of such foes should be prioritized.
"Yes, the best marksmen we have sent were either in their positions now killing most of the mages or…" The officer stopped as he looked at Kovács grimly.
No words were said as Kovács understood what he was trying to say. From time to time, they saw Reapers that was either killing the knights, or was hiding in plain sight, waiting to ambush an unsuspecting individual.
He reckoned that a nest – not that huge as they barely met any Reapers – was nearby out north.
Reapers were genetically modified Deathclaws from America, in which they created it for the purpose of destroying enemy supply lines.
Unlike Deathclaws, Reapers only hunt when it's dark as they barely have any protection against any kinds of firearm.
But in exchange for that, they have inhumane speed, smell, sight, and stealth as they were used for psychological warfare.
Kovács balled his fists as he ran. Reapers were modified to not quickly kill their prey as they were made to inflict as much as pain to its enemies before killing it.
He knew that at least dozens might have gotten lost or got ambushed by Reapers, making him frustrated for his inability to save them.
Why the hell is this happening?
He asked grimly in his mind. The Great War ended months ago, yet there they are, fighting once again.
He steeled his resolve. If he were to kill countless people yet again, then he would do it, for the sake of victory.
Erich panted heavily as they finally reached the cause of this battle.
Standing eighteen meters across, it was in the middle of the road, guarded by at least seven thousand knights with a couple of mages and archers.
Makeshift forts and barricades surrounded the Gate, while the knights raised their shields in order to prepare for a final last stand.
Mages casted their support spells among the knights despite the exhaustion and wounds they suffered.
Erich looked at the Gate and figured that it must be where the medieval army came from.
They then attacked them at all sides as the knights were surrounded.
Streaks of lights and frequent explosions dominated the battlefield as bullets tore flesh, grenades disfigured bodies, and rockets decimated dozens.
The medieval army were hopeless, they knew that it was only a matter of time before they were massacred, yet they chose to stand their ground as they let the others escape.
The cavalry made their final attack as they charged through their deaths. They were, nonetheless, massacred.
They were delusional and arrogant as they thought that this expedition would be another great conquest like their ancestors did centuries ago.
Not only was it a disaster, but they also awakened something far more dangerous than the demons and monsters of old.
Erich's men slowly made their way to the Gate, while some knights and mages hastily ran away and head towards it.
The wounded were left to die, and the brave were left to fend for themselves, making Erich disgusted by such actions.
At least two thousand escaped before Erich's men secured the Gate, yet they were at least Forty thousand dead, lying across the battlefield.
Erich looked at his surroundings as his men gathered their wounded and as they secured their prisoners.
The smell of destruction and death surrounded the battlefield.
Corpses littered the ground, while debris and rubbles covered their surroundings. It was a scene he saw far too frequently in his career and a scene he kind of missed.
Erich balled his fists and finally decided their course of action. Many died today and many would also die in the future.
This could be another chance…
He thought as overwhelming euphoria crept on his body. He smirked as he thanked whoever God or being of great power gave them this opportunity.
"Yes, this could be another chance. Another chance for salvation."