Hello, ITalkToSky here.

Here is another chapter. Not dead yet.

Sorry for a long time since the update. I have been reading and listening to a lot of WWII materials. I probably absorbed less than a fraction of it, but that is better than just watching the Strike Witches anime…hopefully.

Discord invite code: NSMHjar

Come over to say hi some time.

00000

"Vyache! Come take a look at this. Seems like something you Russian…Orussian would make."

Disregarding the fundamental ideology behind the governance, Orussian Empire military technology mirrored those of the Russian Red Army down to the aesthetic. Utilitarian to a fault, their firearms were made simple and rugged. This one was just a long thick pipe. Lunaire thought it was just exposed plumbing until he saw the bolt on one end, similar to normal service rifle but ridiculously oversized.

"Alright, give me a second." Lunaire heard a heavy clash as something was thrown into the wheelbarrow appropriated from the one of the houses. "Oh, you found quite the beauty! A sight for sore eyes, a PTRD, big fucking round, seen Neuroi drop with just a single shot from one of these."

"Do you know how to use this?"

"It should be simple enough, you know. Load, point, and shoot. Nothing else to it."

"I see."

Seeing that the bolt was locked, Lunaire lifted it gingerly. It weighted just as he imagined it would. Pulling back the bolt, the large round fell off to the ground. He picked it up.

"This is just a cannon!"

"That is kind of the point."

"Mmm, it will be useful. Where can you find more of these?"

"Look for a satchel or something large enough for a box of those. The gunner and assistant should carry them around. They would not mind." He pulled up one such article from the ground. Inside were cardboard boxes filled with the same rounds.

"Right. But we are getting sidetracked."

"You said you heard someone out here. Are you sure? I am not doubting you or anything, but we are like what, 3 blocks away from we are supposed to be. Your ears might just be playing tricks with you. Let's go back and regroup. It is almost rendezvous time."

"So do you trust my ears, or not."

"You get what I am saying."

"I am rarely wrong about my hearing."

Lunaire emphasized, but it was not really hearing. Mana sense was much more acute, and it informed him of three signatures, one weak and the other very weak, coming from the building in front of them. Not waiting for his Orussian comrade, Lunaire jogged closer.

The moment he stepped on the stair, which creaked mournfully from the abuse of the element, a cry rang out from the second floor.

"Is anyone there? I need help! Anyone!"

No further word was exchanged as the two sprung up the steps. The voice came from a room. Vyache tried to open it but found it lock. He reared his leg back to kick it. It hardly budged.

"Come on, Lunaire, with me."

"Stop, he is opening the door."

The door swung open to reveal a man in Wehrmacht service uniform. The next thing that stood out were a white band with red cross plastered on it. Lunaire glanced over at his shoulder boards. They were blank and had blue, unadorned rim. Lunaire breathed a little easier as there was much less chance of being chewed out.

"Both of you, just…"

Lunaire scrunched his face and almost dodge the bloody hands coming for his shoulder. He would have done so if not for a small measure of respect he felt. The fact that his hands were freshly bloodied, meant he was doing his job.

"We need to get them back to the line. I already dressed them up the best I can. They are going to die if we can't get to the medical service. And…"

"I…"

"Hate to break it to you Sani, but there is no getting back to the line."

"What?"

"The city is lost, and the line had been pushed back so far. You couldn't hear the gunshot anymore, yeah?"

"Y-you, you are wrong. That is impossible. The Neuroi couldn't have taken the entire city that quickly. It has only been a day. T-they only attacked yesterday morning. Oh god…"

Lunaire glanced down at the men on the ground. They laid there completely still. Without even the strength to groan, they would appear dead if not for the rising and falling of their chest. The smell of blood was thick on the air.

They were not going to make it. Lunaire concluded in a flash. Their shirts were cut apart for him to see that their abdomens were completely covered in white bandage. One even had a large steel rod stuck in him. The medic rightly stabilized it without pulling it out. He did tremendous job keeping the two alive for a day.

But without access to the surgeon, it was only a matter of time.

Lunaire knew it. Vyache knew it. Even the medic knew it as he collapsed on his knees. He clutched his face with his bloody hand and whimpered. A young man, barely old enough to attend college, seemingly aged by a decade as he dragged himself next to the grievously wounded man.

"Vyache, where is the field hospital?"

"Way behind the frontline…either they evacuated in time or…"

"Are there no way to treat people on the front line at all?"

"There is the dressing station, but…the doctors?"

"…Which way?"

"There is no way you go all the way there. It is not just a few streets over, but half the damn town!"

Perhaps realizing what Lunaire was implying, Vyache rounded on him in a flash. His loud voice attracted the attention of the weeping man. He stumbled over his own feet toward Lunaire in his haste. His eyes glimmered with hope.

"You! You said the dressing station. I-I know the way. I can lead the way. We can carry them."

"Out of question, there is no way we are running that gauntlet, especially not while carrying them."

"P-please, I beg you. They are my friends. I-I can't let them die like this. I just can't."

"Listen here Sani, do you think you are the only ones who lost their friends. Huh…"

"Please…"

The medic got his hands on Lunaire's tunic, painting big red splotches on it as his hands squeezed tight. He pled on his knees He begged and begged, not daring to look the magician in the eyes.

"And what are you going to do there anyway? Are you a doctor? Huh? And you think there is any doctor left alive there? It's a fool's errand."

"Please…I beg you."

"You are going to drag them all over there and make them suffer for nothing. Get a grip Sani! You know that well that this is suicide."

Vyache was right.

Without a stretcher, they could only carry them over the shoulder. Not only would it be excruciating for the wounded for hours on end, but this also meant that they had to forgo the roof. Scaling up and down left even the fitter soldiers wheezing by the end with just their kitbag, let alone a person.

Lunaire took a deep breath and looked the Orussian in the eyes.

"Not for me."

"What?"

"Not for me, Vyache…If I can lead the men over here, I can lead them back."

"No, you are insane too."

"You are probably right. I never thought I would ever do this either. Maybe I am just weak to waterworks, huh."

Lunaire chuckled bitterly, resigned. But he felt he had to do this because he knew what Vyache did not.

The wounds, although grievous and mortal, was well within his means to snap away in a blink, figuratively. It required a bit more finesse and time, but his magic could make short work of this much. But he would not.

And that gnawed deep into his bone.

He knew. He needed to lay low and avoid the attention of the megalomaniac "god" that created this thrice damn world just to toy with it. Oh, he knew it.

But it did little to drown out his shame.

Lunaire was not a bleeding heart. He wanted to live his own life and understood the limitation of his own two hands. Despite the tremendous power he wielded as a Youkai magician, he was not a god and could not save everyone. Yet, it was difficult to ignore the plight in front of his eyes, hypocritical as some may call.

"No, I can't let you go. I order you."

Even the chatterbox did not look it or acted like it, but the collar of his coat had a red stripe across it, denoting him as a corporal. Only the other man in the scavenging party matched him in rank. He outranked Lunaire by two level, technically.

But just from the look on his face, he was grasping at straw.

"I am with part of Karlsland Army. I don't answer to you." Lunaire placed his hand firmly on Vyache. He smiled wryly. "This is why I am going to ask of you, not as a soldier but as a comrade in this struggle. Go back to the unit and tell them where I went. Tell them to continue as they were but wait one extra day. If I am not back by that time, go on without me."

"No, you crazy Karlslander. If you are going, I am going with you."

"No, listen Vyache. I don't like tooting my own horn, but I am the best of the best when it comes to finding my way around these alien bastards. You job is to go back and make sure the platoon doesn't move about recklessly without me as their ears. They might not survive the trip back to Schauer."

"That is all the more reason we shouldn't go…"

"Vyache, I will be back. I won't hang them out to dry." Lunaire slapped his shoulders firmly and barked at the medic. "Now then Sani, today I am feeling generous. More than I ever have been in my damn life. So, you better keep up. I carry one. You carry one."

"J-Just shoot…me. I-I can't…I-can't stand the…pain."

"Shut it," Lunaire replied on German. "Listen to the others, nice and quiet."

If this was to be a constant from then on, he was afraid of awakening to black humor. Lunaire enjoyed those once in a while, but this dour place was getting to him.

Speaking of quiet, the other injured was concerned. He did not twitch a finger even when jostled around by his friend. Unlike Lunaire who could rely on his reinforcement spell, the medic fared much worst. His breath was ragged. River of sweat trailed down his red face and matted his grey uniform. But he kept up with Lunaire's brisk pace.

"We stop here."

"Urgh…n-no…no, we must go on. I can…keep going. J-just a little…argh…just a little more…so close."

He would only stop if he dropped dead, Lunaire knew.

Instead of making the turn as medic instructed, Lunaire walked into the wreck storefront right at the corner and laid down the groaning man on his shoulders. He winced in pain and cursed.

As he carried this man, Schmidt as the medic called him, Lunaire discreetly applied a low-level hemostasis spell. The close proximity minimized the signature enough that he deemed acceptable. This man would live. With how much sulfanilamide antibiotic caked over his wound, infection was hardly the issue.

The Sani did not follow, falling to his knee on the street right at the storefront. Lunaire took the injured off his shoulders and laid him in the store as well.

"W-we…we…we have to keep going."

"No, you need to rest."

Frankly, Lunaire was both impressed. This man hauled his unconscious friend halfway across an entire city just for a chance to save his life. And they could be the light at the end of the tunnel. Lunaire sensed a signature in the general direction said to be the dressing station. With any luck, that could be the doctor.

"And more importantly than that, I hear a Neuroi. It will cross this street in a moment. So…unless you fancy you and your friend being turn into chucks of charcoal, I suggest you stay put."

"…"

Even with the weight lifted off his shoulders, he only replied in soft grunt and only barely managed to drag himself into the store. Lunaire drank a gulp from his flask, refilled and sanitized, before passing it over.

"Drink." Lunaire looked away for a second and the medic was giving it to the wounded. "Make sure to leave some for yourself. You won't last long otherwise."

"…Fine."

"Oh also, stay behind the counter. Don't know if it will go down the street or round this corner."

"Understood."

"I will be back."

There was still time before the Neuroi patrol passed. Walking through the door leading deeper in, Lunaire wondered through the four floor buildings. He kept his eyes open for anything useful, but mostly food and ammo. With most of his needs able to be met just by muttering few incantations, Lunaire never had to scrap the barrel just to live before.

The magician came back down, empty handed. Not even a single scrap of morsel. Not even rats. Lunaire would never consider eating them, though he heard accounts of them being eaten during the war.

"So, what is your name?"

"Emil…Kopp."

"Lunaire Vivian Meister."

His half-hearted attempt at conversation fizzled of as quick as it came. Lunaire bet his legs were still killing the poor sod. Without further word, Lunaire sat beside him. The counter was small, so there was on so little space he could sit. Lunaire could find a more comfortable spot further in, but he worried that the medic would decide to do something stupid.

"You going to make it. Alright."

"E-Emil."

"Yeah buddy, just flesh wound."

Emil retrieved a small tin box from his pouch. The glass ampoules clattered as he opened it with his shaken hands. He could barely snap the tip clean. He withdrew the clear liquid with a syringe. Waiting a good while for his hand to stop shaking so much, he managed to inject the content in the end.

It took another good while before the pained groan quietened down.

"Shh, quiet down, here they come."

The medic looked up and Lunaire could see the urge to peek over the counter with his eyes. He could not hear them, and neither could Lunaire. However, the magician could sense them, so he shook his head warningly. Sooner than later, they could hear the telltale whirling, accompanied by ticking of their sharp legs stabbing the ground.

Emil pulled out his service pistol. Lunaire recognized the striking profile of a Luger.

"Don't even thing about it. If we are found, we are dead, even with this."

The magician gestured to the MP-40 slung across his stomach. With grenades, he could take on one, but definitely not this three-piece patrol.

Leaning against the wall, Lunaire let his thoughts roamed. Various spell formula came to mind as he tried to devise any possible method that could have brough him here. He did not expect much though. There was no trail, no hint to go on.

This was not a problem that could be fix in a day or two. The more he thought about this, the more he missed the old comfort, the heated mansion, the great library, and great food.

"Hey…uh…"

"…"

"I just want to say thank you…for coming all this way."

"Don't thank me. I don't even know what I was thinking to agree to this."

"They would have died for sure." Emil, for all intent and purpose, spat. Those defeatist words sounded just as blasphemous as he imagined. He lost the entire platoon he was attached to, except for these two. Just the thought that he would lose them too almost drove him mad.

"…"

Lunaire wanted to tell him not to relax just yet. Schmidt was fine, but the other's fate hung on the balance.

"It's fine. Have you got enough rest yet?"

"We are moving now?"

"Yes, if you are able."

"Let's go then.

00000

And there you go.

Another slow burn for the cooker. Hopefully, you guys like it.

Though there is one thing I have to say. I have decided to dial back the "Lunaire must suffer" part down a bit. I found it quite difficult to write dark stuff without just going overboard and make it edgy cringe. I hate that. So, I will dial it back a notch.

Make no mistake, Lunaire will do something he is going to regret later on. His internal conflict between his commitment to return to Gensokyo and attachment to this world is still on the table.

I have also decided to accelerate the plot a little. Rather than going through each and every event during this partisan action, I would just get the more interesting part and trim out the rest of the unneeded objectives, putting it offscreen or something.

Discord invite code: NSMHjar

Come over to say hi some time.