Author's Note - 24 July, 2020:

This is a repost of the first chapter, with some small edits made throughout (mainly towards the end). I am deeply sorry for not updating, but studying for the LSAT is killing me. I promise to get chapter 2 up soon.

"It appears that you still haven't learned anything."

Mom stared down at me, her gaze peering into my very soul. "I would've thought changing your name and forcing you to be an adventurer would have led you to clean up your act. Now that I see that I was wrong. You took your chance at redemption and threw it away, Mal- Bitch."

That nickname, Bitch. I hated it. I hated the fact that my own mother refused to call me by my real name. I deserved better. To think that my family would take the side of that disgusting shield and the other troglodytes that were summoned with him.

"You know full well that my name is B-"

I tried to correct her, but I was cut off by a figure slapping me across the face. I looked up to see who did it, only to meet the gaze of the shield devil himself. Naofumi, that bastard. Oh, how I wanted to slip my hands out of these manacles and strangle him to death in front of my mother and the other idiotic heroes.

"Let me finish, please. Not only did you refuse to own up to your crimes that were exposed during the trial, but you betrayed each of the heroes that allowed you into their party. You then attempted to spark a revolt to overthrow your own family. I think this is the last straw" My mother continued. I could not believe that mother knew about my actions. Has she had someone follow me for the past few months?

"I should have you put to death many times over for your crimes, but I will give you one last chance, provided that any of the four heroes decide to forgive you and allow you into their parties once more."

My eyes lit up at the mention of forgiveness, as she was giving me a chance to get myself out of this situation. I knew that I had ruined the trust of each of the heroes, but I also knew that this made them weak. This made them easy to manipulate. Maybe I could convince Motoyasu to let me back in his party. After all, he wasn't particularly bright.

I crawled over to Motoyasu, throwing together an expression of remorse. "M-motoyasu!" I pleaded "I-I'll do anything to be allowed back into your party! Please forgive me!" I continued, my eyes welling up with tears.

Motoyasu glanced down at me, as if I was some rat that he almost stepped on. I felt his boot press against my chest as he kicked me away from him. He said nothing, but the sneering expression was a clear enough answer. I then turned to Ren and Itsuki, who grimaced and looked away before I could even let out a single word.

This left me with only one option, joining the party of the man I loathed. "N-naofumi! I'm sorry for all that I have done to you! P-please allow me into your party!"

Naofumi turned towards me, looking down. Unlike the other three heroes, a cheeky smile was plastered across his face, and his eyes were bright. I knew he was enjoying my suffering, but this still took me aback. At first, he said nothing in response to my pleas. Then he started to chuckle, this turning into a full-blown laugh

"Wow, you dare to beg me for forgiveness? After accusing me of rape? After attempting to take those I hold dear away from me? After trying your same tricks on the other three heroes? I would kill you on the spot if I did not find your fake pleading so amusing. Go die, whore."

My blood boiled as his disgusting words flowed out of his mouth. If I were in his position, I would not hesitate to have that fucking bastard flayed alive. That asshole had no right to speak to me, the true princess of Melromarc, like that.

I could not hold back any longer as I started to scream. The other heroes turned as they saw me struggle in my bindings as I tried to lunge at the Shield Hero

"I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU!" I screamed, wrists straining against the iron chains that bound them together. My plans were ruined, but I did not care. I hated him, I hated him with every fiber of my being. I hated the fact that I was powerless, that everyone saw through my plans. I hated the fact that no one understood my motives. I did all of this because I thought it was right, but everyone chose to believe a shield bearing demon from another realm instead of me.

"Well, it appears that none of the Four Heroes wishes to have Mal- bitch in their party. This means that her sentence will be carried out."

Upon hearing my mother's declaration, my wrists slackened, drifting downwards just as my heart sank into my stomach. I did not know what she would do, but knowing my other, the sentence would be cruel.

"M-mama!" I pleaded again. "I-i am your daughter. It's me, Malty! I did what I did to the four heroes because they tried to violate me!" Tears filled my eyes as I continued. "P-please, hear my side of all of this! Y-you'd take the word of your daughter over heroes you don't even know, right?"

Mother silently scoffed as she heard me pleading, rolling her eyes before speaking once more. "Melty is my only daughter, whore. I disowned you after your first round of crimes, now please stop talking to me."

I couldn't believe it. She was actually serious about the whole disowning thing. She decided to ignore the two decades she spent raising me and threw me out like trash. I should've seen this coming. Mother was always a cruel, conniving woman. She always favored Melty over me…

"Now, I think marrying you off to another kingdom would be appropriate, but I know that your tricks work easily on men. Therefore, I propose to send you to...another place"

Another place? What did she mean by that? Did she mean that she would sell me off to a slave market? Since I needed to know, I decided to ask her. "M-mama, where do you wish to send me?"

Mother looked down at me, her gaze of contempt staring into my very soul. "Hell."

I began to scream again, tears flowing down my face as I struggled against my captors. Mother seemed undisturbed by this, simply saying something unintelligible to the heroes. Before I knew it, I saw the shield devil himself moving in to help mother's shadows drag me to my doom…

"Artillery!"

With a loud gasp, my eyes shot open. The scream that woke me up was followed by the sounds of something in the distance. Were they explosions? Thunder? I couldn't tell...and I'm not sure if I wanted to find out.

The booming sounds continued. Most were distant, as if I had just woken to a thunderstorm. However, some of the explosions were far closer, and I could feel my chest tighten as nearby booms kicked up dirt and debris.

I slowly laid back down, hearing the creak of whatever I was on top of as I tried to ignore the sounds. After what felt like hours, but couldn't have been more than a few minutes, the explosions tapered off, with the silence of the room I was in only being broken by the occasional boom in the distance.

I started to sit up again, pulling what I assume was a blanket off of me. As I tossed the blanket aside, I ran the coarse wool through my hands, the patch of fabric rubbing up against them as if it was sandpaper.

What the fuck? Where the fuck am I?

The tight feeling in my chest remained as I shifted my legs off the mattress. Just like the blanket, it was rough and cold, barely softer than a slab of stone. As I slid off of the bed, I felt my feet touch the cold stone floor of the room.

Lifting the rest of my body off of the bed, I started to look around the room, trying to spot something that might give me an idea of where the hell I was. However, the room was pitch black, save for a small slit in the corner. As soon as I had fully left the bed, the air filled with a foul, acidic odor, mixed with the smell of something dead.

As soon as I finished emptying the contents of my last meal onto the stone floor, my heart sank as the realization began to hit me. The tightness in my chest came back, this time with a vengeance. My heart began to race as I imagined the various dire situations I may have found myself in.

Maybe I'm still in Melromarc, mere tens of meters from my room, but sent to the castle dungeons to rot. Maybe I'm in Faubley, the hours burning by as I awaited the lumbering footsteps of some disgusting pig, who fully intended to torture me to death.

I quickly ruled out the first option. There is no way that I could hear explosions deep in the dungeons of any castle. But the second option, oh god…the second option. Sure, mother told me that I was not being married off to the King of Faubley, but since when did I trust her? She lied to me in the past. Hell, she told me when I was a child that I would be taking over the throne when she passed.

And look at how that turned out…

I began to pat myself down, feeling around my body as I realized that my clothes were missing.

Okay, step one was to find something to wear.

Getting onto my hands and knees, I started fumbling around for the blanket that I had discarded moments ago. Within seconds, my fingers wrapped around coarse fabric.

Well, that didn't take very long.

However, something felt different. Although whatever I grabbed was still rough, the sandpaper texture of the "blanket" was missing. I began to feel around whatever I grabbed, noticing that there were large holes on either end of the fabric. I crawled towards the slit to get a better look at what I was grabbing, using the light emanating from it to make out the rough shape of a pair of trousers, as well as some sort of jacket.

I hastily put the jacket and trousers on, cringing a little as the cheap fabric hugged my body. Not only was this outfit uncomfortable, but it was also a size too small. However, it had to do, as it was still far more comfortable than that ratty old blanket.

As I finished putting on these clothes, a loud bang filled the room as I was blinded by the light outside. As my vision returned to me, my eyes met the visage of a man. He stood at around my height, his face contorted into a scowl. He wore some kind of uniform. Brown boots, black trousers, black jackets, and a black cap. The pants, jacket, and cap had red accents around the seams, some of the accents adorned with various medals. Looking at what I wore, I noticed that I wore a similar uniform, albeit covered in dirt and without the fancy medals that the man staring at me wore.

"W-where am I" I stammered out, trying to register what the actual fuck was going on. I still had no idea of where I was, and now this man had barged into the room I was in. Was he my executioner? Was he my jailer? Or was he someone else entirely?

"Haven't seen the likes of you around here soldier, what is your name?" he asked flatly, completely ignoring my question.

"Malty Melromarc. First Princess and Future Queen." I replied.

The man cocked his head, his already present scowl deepening as he stared at me. What, that was my name and title. Shouldn't I separate myself from these peons? Besides, maybe knowing my royal status could lead to him helping me out.

"Wrong. You're Private Melromarc," he answered, sounding like he was either about to scream at me or start laughing.

I Already hate this disgusting pig. He should know who I am and treat me according to my status.

"As Royalty, I should be addressed as Princess Malty," I replied.

I felt the sting on my left cheek as the man slapped me across the face. "Fuckin' hell you sound like a Bitch! You will be addressed as Private, just like everyone else of your rank here. Understood?"

How fucking dare he call me that?

My blood began to boil as I put my hand on his shoulder, gripping it tightly as I looked into his eyes. "How dare you call me a bitch! Do you not have ears? Did you hear that I am a pri-"

Before I could finish my sentence, the man pulled herself away from my grip, following up with a knee to my stomach, sending me to the ground and knocking the wind out of me. As I tried to get up, he grabbed me by the hair and stared into my eyes.

"You better listen here, kid" He whispered harshly. "I don't give a shit about who or what you are, because you're now a soldier. You're going to accept being called Private, got it? None of this 'Princess Malty' horseshit. You're lucky. I could have you killed for assaulting a commanding officer, and thousands could take your place."

Tears welled in my eyes as I gritted my teeth and tried not to cry. I felt like an animal, one that was kicked around and abused by its owners. I thought back to the trial, to when I was named 'bitch' by the Shield Devil and my vindictive mother. I thought about the humiliation I felt then and now, and the tears began to flow as I stared silently at him.

I could feel the first sobs come out of my mouth as he spoke once more. "Come on...don't be a baby…" he groaned.

What the hell is this place? First, I got tossed into some sort of cell, then I got told that I'm in some sort of army, and now I'm being treated like common trash? Maybe this really is the hell that mother told me about…

I stopped my sobs as he handed me a cap, a pair of wool socks, and some boots similar to the cap and boots he wore. Quickly putting it on, I stifled my sobs as I stared back at the man. Oh, how I wanted to have him killed for this…

"Come on soldier, let's move," he ordered, walking out of the door.

I looked behind me, back into the room that I woke up in. Wooden bunks lined the walls, all of them with the same ugly mattress that I woke up on laying on top. A lantern, shaped like the bulb of some plant, hung from the ceiling. Nothing else was in the room, save for discarded piles of blankets and a pair of soggy, mud-covered boots.

I debated whether I should crawl back into the room and sit on my bunk, just hiding from whatever laid outside. However, the foul odor from earlier quickly dissuaded any thoughts of returning to the room. Slipping on the socks, boots, and cap, I trudged out of the room and into what laid beyond.

The moment I stepped out of the bunkroom, I instantly realized that I was nowhere near home. Some sort of trench stretched out in front of me. It stood about two or three meters high, with patches of rotting wood and loose stone making up the walls of the corridor. The floor, if one could even call it that, was made up of the same half-rotten planks, as well as wet mud.

I grimaced with every step I took, feeling the mud underneath seep into the warm boots I was wearing. I couldn't help but think about how bad I would smell after this, what diseases I must get being here. This was a place made for commoners, not people like me.

As I kept walking, I saw soldiers lining the trench, but they looked far different than anything back home. Instead of metal or leather armor, they wore the same black and red uniform that I did. Some wore metal helmets, others wore caps. The weapons also looked starkly different. Instead of swords, bows, and pikes, they carried guns.

I stared at one of the soldiers as I walked by. He was resting in the mud, much like a pig would rest in its sty.

Disgusting...why should I be around these peasants.

In his lap sat a gun. Sure, I had seen soldiers in guns when I went to Faubley that one time, but they had single-shot weapons with small hammers on the side. This weapon was nothing like that. This weapon was partially metal, with an iron rod sticking out of the side near the back. A small iron box protruded from the bottom of the weapon, sticking out like the sores on the peon that held the weapon. The only things that looked similar to Faubley's weapons was that it had a mostly wooden body, and that there was a small, thin metal piece sticking out near the back of the weapon. I remembered that this was the "trigger", at least that's what my sister Melty said it was.

"Come on...let's keep moving." The officer in front of me ordered before continuing his walk through the trench.

I kept trudging through the mud-filled corridor, trying to keep my eyes focused on the officer as it zig-zagged around corners, over and over again. However, trying to focus on the man leading me through the trench was nearly impossible. I couldn't help but notice that the majority of the soldiers had the same gaze plastered onto their faces. Glassy eyes, bags under their lids, and a flat expression. It was as if they were detached from the world. Some were smoking through white sticks in their mouth, and I cringed as their foul breath flowed into my nostrils. Somehow, the stench of what they were smoking overpowered the musty smell of the trench surrounding me...and it was even worse.

As I was following the officer, I felt a hand graze my thigh. Startled, I looked down at whoever touched me, only to be met by the leering gaze of some disgusting pig. Although he looked to be about my age, he was as ugly as any peon back home. The first thing that stuck out to me was his grin. I felt myself getting nauseous as he stared at me with his half-rotten teeth, as scars and mud stains on his face twisted around his disgusting smile.

"What's a fine piece of ass like you doin' here?" he asked, his voice sounding like gravel.

"Wha-"

Dammit! I couldn't say anything back! It's like any sort of witty insult or lie that I could have conjured up had left my brain completely.

I just stared at this disgusting excuse for a soldier, trying to register what the fuck he just said to me.

"Private Melromarc! What the fuck are you doing?"

A voice snapped me out of my trance. It was the officer, ordering me to keep moving. Even though I had only met him five or ten minutes ago, his scowl seemed permanent, as if it was his characteristic expression.

Since his recent threat to have me killed seemed credible, I saw no choice but to follow him. However, something didn't feel right. This was the first time I ignored someone who insulted me. Usually, I'd either say something back or just have them imprisoned, saying they committed a crime that they didn't...or maybe they did. Fuck, did it matter anymore?

I kept walking, doubling down on my attempt to focus on the officer in front of me. I didn't want to have another encounter like I did with that pitiful excuse of a man. Although I had no idea where I was, I still had enough pride to ignore these peasants.

Rounding another corner in the trench, I saw the officer stop in front of a small dugout, where a woman sat under a wooden awning. She wore a similar outfit to the officer, a black uniform with red accents and various pins. The desk in front of her was covered in stacks of papers that stood like towers, a couple of which had to be close to a meter high. Loose papers laid on the ground, many of them dampened by the disgusting mud that filled the trench.

Besides the papers, nothing else sat on the desk, save for a small device resting near her hand. It was made entirely out of metal, with a tube protruding out of the end. A small piece of iron protruded near the handle of the contraption. My curiosity grew as I looked at it. I just had to know what this thing was!

"What's that?" I turned towards the woman, asking quietly.

She glanced at the contraption, before looking back at me, eyes filled with what I assume was contempt.

God, was everyone an asshole here?

She turned towards the officer, shifting in the old, wooden chair that she sat in.

"Does this woman not even know what a handgun is?"

Of course I don't know what a "handgun" is! Hell, I don't even know where the fuck I am, or what is going on.

"It appears that she doesn't." The officer that I had been following replied.

She glanced at me, before looking down at the various papers on her desk. A distant explosion shook the ground as she did so, the shockwave sending a taller stack tumbling into the mud in front of the dugout.

"Someone help me pick up these goddamn papers!" She yelled, not even a second passing before her mouth opened. A few seconds later, a female soldier rushed in, wearing the same uniform I did while she hastily placed the loose papers back onto the desk. I stood there watching this spectacle, having no idea about what was going on.

As soon as the papers were back on her desk, she turned back to the officer, giving him the same glare that he gave me. "What is her name?" she asked flatly, her tone giving off the same air of annoyance as her voice.

"Private Melromarc."

I instinctually started to correct him, forming the first syllable of "It's Princess Malty." However, I quickly stopped myself, remembering how poorly that went the last time.

The woman peered into one of the paper towers, fumbling with its contents for what felt like forever before finding a piece of paper near the top.

"Ahh...Malty Melromarc," she spoke, slowly nodding towards me. "You're one of those...feudal people."

Feudal people? What the fuck was she even on about? Couldn't they just give me an explanation about what was going on here? Hell, I didn't even know where I was, let alone why I was in some sort of uncomfortable uniform, or what a "handgun" was.

"Says here you're designated as infantry, so you're at least in the right place…" she spoke before I had a chance to ask her anything.

"Infantry? What is that?" I asked, hearing myself speak before I even had the chance to think about what I was going to say to her.

"Basically." She sighed, giving me a look of contempt before picking up a rifle propped up in the corner of the dugout, aiming at a wall and raising the weapon as if she was going to fire it. Before she did, she pulled the iron rod up and back, before shoving it forwards and back into the position it was in before. I noticed that she was using her right hand to hold the trigger and use the rod.

That is going to be a problem…

"Miss…" I spoke up again. "I-i'm left-handed…"

I had to tell her that at least, anything that would make my life easier in whatever shithole I found myself in.

She let out yet another sigh before setting the rifle down. She shuffled over to a much smaller pile of rifles, pulling one out and shoving it into my hands. The first thing I noticed about this weapon is that the bolt was missing, replaced by some kind of large handle that encompassed the trigger, as well as the space immediately behind it.

"This is a Savage 99." the woman spoke again. "It's a lever action rifle, something that a left hander like you shouldn't have any problems using."

I still had no idea what the hell she was talking about, but I might be able to use this

That said, it was much more worn out than the rifle she held before. The metal parts of the weapon were tarnished, marred by discoloration, and the first signs of rust. The wood was also less than pristine, as various scratches and dings ran along the length of the stock as if they were canyons in a vast desert.

My face contorted into a scowl as I looked at the weapon. Why was I given a weapon like this? I'm a princess, so I deserve something that at least looks nice right? Couldn't they just give something like this to some commoner, and then give me something that someone took care of?

"As princess of Melro-"

The officer glared daggers at me before I could even finish my first sentence, and his expression was quickly shared by the woman behind the desk.

"Soldier, I suggest you shut the fuck up. We had this conversation…" the officer said through gritted teeth.

God, I hated that man. I had known him for not even part of a day, and he was already taking up a similar spot to that shielded basted. Oh, how I wanted nothing more than to lock him up and forget about him.

However, my better judgment won out, and I chose not to say anything.

"Anyways…" The woman continued. "You will be a part of F Company, 51st Regiment. If you don't already know, your unit is stationed in this trench line, and given the task of holding off those olive coated bastards with guns like these." She explained, as if the explanation would help me understand what the fuck was going on.

"I-I don't even know how to use that…" I stammered out.

Why couldn't I just use magic? I mean, it would be a lot easier if I could just cast a few Zwelt Hellfires at whoever we were fighting, rather than use the piece of junk that I held in my hands.

"I realize that," she replied matter-of-factly. "I suppose you need some sort of training."

As she finished her sentence, the officer nodded and marched out, beckoning with his hand for me to follow. As we stepped out into the main trench, the officer walked at a brisker pace, one that I struggled to keep up with as I had to hold the rifle in my arms. Before long, we reached a junction in the trench, with one pathway leading to the right. The officer turned down this path, and I followed.

Unlike the mud-filled line that we had traversed, this one was paved with loose stones, and the rotting, wooden walls were replaced with tightly packed dirt. I also noticed the serious lack of soldiers lining it, as well as the fact that it was completely straight. The wet sound of my boots sinking into the mud was replaced by one of me walking over gravel.

Within a few minutes, the officer and I arrived at the end of the path. In front of us sat some sort of metal carriage, a windowed cab attached to the front of it. Black wheels sank into the ground below it, and a low growl emanated from a metal grille at the front.

However, nothing was pulling it. No horse, no person, not even a filolial was in front of its carriage. Did it just drive itself?

"Get in." The officer ordered, pointing towards the back. As soon as I climbed into the metal carriage, I heard one of the cab's doors open as the officer disappeared from view.

I quickly realized that I was the only one in the back of this vehicle. In any other situation, I would have attempted to escape, or at least try to convince those around me to help me out. However, any sort of planning was replaced by the fog of confusion, that is, I had no idea what the hell was going on.

As soon as the iron door closed, the vehicle started thundering down some dirt path. Around me, all I could see were brown and grey craters, as well as the massive gouge in the ground that was the trench behind me. Beyond that laid some sort of hellscape, made up solely of massive craters and the occasional broken piece of wood...or maybe those were supposed to be trees? Large, canvas balloons floated above the brown miasma, held in place by long cords.

Truth be told, I didn't know anymore.

All I wanted to do was cry. I felt helpless, like I was a child left in a crowded marketplace, and my parents had just left me there. At least people would be more friendly and less boorish in a marketplace.

I stared at the ground, not wanting to look at what laid outside anymore. I felt my vision blur as tears filled my eyes. I was too scared to make any noise, lest that asshole officer stops the metal carriage and berate me more.

I didn't deserve to be treated like this. These people should be kissing the very ground I walk on, not treating me like some kind of animal. This is something that a demi deserves, not someone like me.

After what felt like hours, I looked up once more. The trench and the craters were in the distance now, little more than a brown splotch on the horizon. The brown and grey craters around me had been replaced by patchy, yellow-green grass, as well as a wooden fence. Had we entered some sort of pasture?

The carriage abruptly veered to the left, throwing me against the wall as it drove through a gate. As I started to sit back up, I was knocked over once again by the vehicle stopping. The drone of whatever pulled this thing had disappeared, tapering off into a silence.

Cautiously stepping out, I tried to get a good view of where I now was. In the distance, I saw what appeared to be metal plates nailed to trees. These plates stuck out from the ground, evenly spaced from one another. A small sign in a language I couldn't understand was stuck into the ground next to me.

"This is a shooting range soldier. We have to train you a little bit before sending you into combat." The officer spoke, breaking the near silence of the countryside. He motioned for me to follow him once again, and we walked away from the carriage towards a small pit near the range's entrance.

It was essentially a miniature version of the trench I was in earlier, with the same wooden walls and dirt floor. However, it was in much better condition. The ground was mostly dry and even, and the wooden planks were not as rotten as back in the trench. However, something else caught my eye. It was another person. She wore the same uniform I did, the black trousers, jacket, and cap with red accents. Unlike the officer and the woman from earlier, she lacked any extravagant pins on the outfit.

She looked rather familiar, her blond hair is styled in a short bob. Her brownish-purple also felt familiar to me, as if she was someone I knew before I got here. I blinked, thinking that she just resembled someone I knew. However, the resemblance did not go away.

Holy shit, It's Lesty.

Author's Note: This is the beginning of my Rewrite of Over The Top. Although the original story was only three chapters long, I didn't like some of the mechanics or pacing in it.