March 9th, 2016 of the Gregorian calendar

Rain poured down while Johnson and the rest of the platoon scouted the area, searching for any hostile forces on the western flank of the company which with the rest of the regiment was headed for hill 542 or known by the locals as Beza hill which had been under constant bombardment for the past few days as it was estimated that a whole army corps was stationed in tunnels and bunkers. He could feel in him his bones that the war was finally coming to a close, that'd he could stop worrying about a wizard zapping him or being butchered by a bunch of roman knock-offs.

Suddenly he felt something squeeze his right angle and before he knew it, he was yanked off his feet and hubg upside down. "Oh shit!" He swore as he tried to free himself. "BARBAROS TRUCIDARE!!!!" A swarm of Saderans popped out of the foliage waiving axes and swords wildly. Johnson had dropped his M4 and couldn't reach it so shaky pulled out his M9 pistol and began shooting at the upside down men charging at him. "Put those fuckers down!" Said Zhao as he sprawled into the direction of the attacks, mowing them down with ease.

Soon the gunfire seized and everyone checked their surroundings for anymore Saderans. "Hey! Get me down, I don't all that blood rushing to my head with be any good." Collins aimed and shot the rope with his rifle, the private luckily was arching in his attempt to untie his foot so he didn't land on his head. "You could've just cut me free you know that sarge?" "Then be more careful, we're lucking it wasn't laced with explosives like the Iraqis did." His commander replied and they continued on.

Three hours later they linked up with another platoon from the 8th at edge of a walled town four klicks from Beza which had been occupied by the local Saderan militia who while not having stomach to fight, had tried to negotiate free passage to Marais in exchange to hand over the town but the Americans refused nothing but unconditional surrender, to make things more difficult the Oprichnina had both the garrison and what civilians as hostage anyways. "Those bastards don't know when to fucking quit." Said the platoon leader to Thompson who listened intently, "Either we barge right in or blow them to bits, both risk civilian casualties. They go them as human shields

Then a soldier called out, "Sir, take a look at this!" The two lieutenants looked at the man. "What is it soldier?" "It appears that the militia and Oprichnina are fighting. You can see for yourself." The enlisted man give the officer binoculars and he let out a chuckle as he watched men with spears clashing while those with muskets fired sporadic and inaccurate fire against each other like middle eastern insurgents. "Well I'll be damned!" He said, "Their doing the hard work for us!" 'One less place to worry about.' Thought Johnson as he pulled out a piece of chewing gum. The town would eventually be under US control with the militia surrendering their weapons and disbanding, it's members returning home. It was clear that the Saderan people were exhausted of war, their morale shattered like their army.

Later at Fort Cluster

He let out a sigh as he ended the call, looking down at the map before him. The Saderans were conducting a fighting retreat to Marais while the men on hill 542 were encircled, the rest conducting rearguard actions to slow the US army's advance. The city of Marais had at least thirty-thousand legionnaires and an unknown amount of Civis Corpus defending the city, the name of the latter translated into english meant literally "Citizen Corps". These were militias formed by the Saderan government in mid-January to quickly send troops to the front but these units were nowhere near the quality of the professional army. The people in the Civis Corpus were a mix of underaged boys, overaged men, slaves, prisoners, veterans, the weak, humanoids, and a small number of women who were given little equipment and even less training. They reminded him of the Volksturm fielded by the Nazis at the end of WW2 against the vengeful Red army that raised Berlin to the ground as the Third Riech crumbled under the weight of the Allies.

Spies gave a picture of a whole new army being created from these militias whom would either defend the capital or continue resistance in the event of defeat. But unlike their German counterparts they had no means of hurting tanks and would simply act as cannon fodder. He genuinely found it sad that these people despite knowing their hopeless situation were still fighting on in a delusional belief that victory would be snatched from the jaws of defeat. This was shown in the final stages of the Dumas campaign where upwards of fifty-thousand Saderans in the southern Dumas refused to surrender despite the road to Sadera being opened, resulting in them being completely obliterated by B-52s that carpet bombed the area indiscriminately until the mountains peaks themselves were scared beyond comprehension.

Mix an insane manpower potential, urban warfare, and fanatical stubbornness with a dash of pride you got a bad situation where a lot of people were going to die needlessly. The first phase of Operation Hercules was the destruction of the Saderan formation in Ugaria using two division sized groups. The first would with heavy air and artillery support chase the Saderans while the second one raced ahead to block their escape route towards Sadera. Once it was done the second phase called for the two forces would merge to encircle the capital from any reinforcements coming from Telta. Finally, the Infantry with armored support would push into the city towards the Imperial palace, home of the Emperor whom they hoped to capture.

It was estimated that it'd take four days to wipe out all resistance in the city but it'd be hard fought. Casualties for the Saderans would be astronomical, many were either brainwashed by propaganda to be deathly afraid of capture or simply didn't want to live in a world where the Empire was defeated. The city roads were not designed to accommodate tanks but the M3s would have little trouble and the Abrams could always blast its way through. But the real issue would be none other then Giselle, the one that got away. She had been the only apostle under Hardy's control to not have been captured and was still at large, her location unknown at the moment. It deeply worried him that she'd unleash absolute hell on the American soldiers and would cause heavy casualties.

But on the bright side, Rondel had officially announced its succession from Sadera to form it's own city state and would be friends with the US. This in turn caused what remained of Saderan resistance in to area to cease, troops previously occupied there could no be sent to other places they were needed. 'I wonder what's other their other then Falmart?' He thought as he prepared to inform the president on the recent events.

Mars 10th, 688 of the Imperial calendar

Woody sat on his bed in his chambers as he could hear the sound of battle raged outside. The enemy had with their chariots marched into the city and had already taken most of it as the Civis Corpus deserted their posts while the Imperial forces made their last stand in the government district. Thankfully his Villa was in the outskirts but it meant it wouldn't be long until they reached him.

'Damn Zorzal!' He thought as he looked to the hand-kanoni in his hand, loaded and the cord lit. His family had been taken by the Oprichnina to gods knows where to possibly be executed or sold to slave traders, extinguishing any reasoning for continued life. The noble's heart ached as his country crumbled, how the Empire was brought to its knees by a force much stronger, that they couldn't dream to beat. "It's all over...the war is lost..." He mournfully as he prepared to commit suicide, the only honorable way to go other then in battle.

He drew the weapon and put the end of the barrel in his mouth and his hand began to shake while tears uncontrollably flowed from his closed eyes. His heart beat went faster and faster and faster while it drowned everything else out in a plea to stop this self termination. 'Come on! Do it! Be a man!' He told himself as his finger began to slowly squeeze. He began to see his life flash before his eyes, all his joy, all his regrets, all the decisions that led to this point. It was know or never!

BANG!!! He successfully pulled the trigger and his head exploded with earth shattering pain as the ball went through. It took a few seconds to realize that he actually wasn't dead, rather he lay on his bed without the ability to move whatsoever. His blood formed a pool around his head and pieces of his flesh were sprayed on the wall behind him or that's what he assumed. His teeth had shattered from the shockwave and his body involuntarily spasmed. He tried to cry out for help but nothing came out, plus he wouldn't have heard himself anyway as the new ringing in his ears were deafening.

At the very least, he had prevented his capture and kept his honor intact. His conscience slowly faded as he bled out. He had hoped for a quick way put and was being punished by the Gods with a slow and painful death at his own hands. Then at last, it all faded to black and his died there, all alone and in a cold home of little significance now.

Two leagues east of Marais...

The century marched down the road towards Marais, their numbers further depleted by a nasty encounter with the Other-worlders. They hoped to link up with the city defenders to fight long enough for the civilians to evacuate. The fight was absolutely lost and any resistance was now both futile and simply a glorified suicide. Then there was a lone man on a horse, a calvary legionnaire to be exact. His armor was dirty and he had a bloody bandage wrapped around his head and had a distraught look on his face. The calvary legionnaire stopped and dismounted as the commander walked up to him, the column stopping to rest. The two men saluted eachother. "I am centurion Pomum, who are you and state your rank." The horseman shock his head, "Im afraid it doesn't matter anymore...my mission now is to spread the word." The centurion was confused, what did this man mean? "What's that?" "Marais has fallen..."

It was a shock, the city had fallen that quickly? Even the pessimistic Maximus was surprised. "It fell mere hours ago, the general Woody has taken his own life as well. It would be wise to simply trade your armor for rags." And with that, the man hopped back onto his horse and sped away in the other direction...