On June 22nd, 1994, the force of soldiers came upon Aracatuba. Chuck Horner could smell the reek of bones long before he reached the area. When he did come upon the battlefield, he saw a gruesome sight. The bodies of thousands of unburied dead, both demon and human, littered the ground. Ten years of time and rot had done its work, and bones littered the ground. Chuck noted that the M16 guns and 5.56 mm ammunition littering the ground was all weather-worn but intact, but the Kevlar helmets and clothing the soldiers wore was all in tatters around their bones and desiccated flesh.

Jonathan Jones walked alongside Chuck Horner. Jonathan put his facemask on and put his hand to his nose to help stave off some of the stench of the area.

"I vaguely remember what happened here, and read about it in the news," said Jonathan. "But you're the historian. What really happened here?"

Chuck thought for a moment to recall, and then spoke. "For years the forces at Cordoba had been fighting up and down the southern tip of South America, and had liberated Florianópolis and Curitiba. In 1984 a force of 25,000 infantry and four second-generation IBIS walkers went north of Curitiba to test how close they could get to the Gate to Hell. Though resistance was light as far north as Londrina, but once they got to Aracatuba they were overwhelmed by a mixed force largely composed of Demons, with a few clusters of Imps and two Greater Demons. In the ensuring battle, first 90% of the foot soldiers were killed. Then one of the IBIS walkers was disabled and had to retreat. Then the remaining 10% of the foot soldiers were killed, and the remaining three IBIS walkers were attacked directly. One was destroyed and two were damaged in the retreat back to Curitiba."

"Did anyone at all survive?" asked Jonathan.

Chuck shook his head. "Anyone fleeing from the battle was cut down in the retreat. Imps can certainly run a lot faster than a person."

"And those four IBIS walkers? Those were unmanned by that time, right?"

"Right," said Chuck. "They were all controlled remotely by radio, with an internal computer to automate most processes, just like the third generation IBIS walkers that escort us."

Jonathan frowned. "Or perhaps it's us that escort them. There are 43,000 of us and seven of them. It's all us foot soldiers that are expendable."

"Oh, I wouldn't say that exactly," said Chuck. "If an IBIS walker got to the Gate to Hell without infantry support, there would be no one to go down and find a way to close it. And besides, it's more symbiotic than that. Without IBIS walker fire support, Greater Demons would easily kill us all. And without all us foot soldiers to support the IBIS walkers, they would be easily overwhelmed and destroyed by Imps and Demons."

Chuck walked for a time in silence, thinking. He then stopped, and Jonathan stopped too.

"Jonathan, what happens if this happens to us as well?" asked Chuck, making a sweeping gesture with his hand. "What if we fail like the first two incursions and all of us die?"

Jonathan was quiet for a moment. He then went to an old M16 on the ground next to a skeleton, and pulled the charging handle. It ejected a 5.56 mm round. He pocketed it, and took out a spare magazine and took a 7.62 mm round from it. Its tungsten carbide tip gleamed in the midday sun.

"Look around you," said Jonathan. "Look at the clothes those soldiers wore, and the guns they have. And then look at yourself, and your gun." He took out the 5.56 mm round and held both bullets up together, the 7.62 mm one obviously bigger than the 5.56 mm round.

"We've got bigger rounds this time?" asked Chuck, trying to guess what Jonathan was getting at prematurely.

Jonathan shook his head. "It's not that they're bigger rounds. It's that they're different rounds. We could all be carrying medieval hand-cannons that shoot balls the size of a pomegranate, and that wouldn't help. We have different rounds in our different guns this time, and are wearing different armor because we as humans learned from our mistakes and adapted."

Jonathan tossed the 5.56 mm round aside, and put the 7.62 mm round back in the magazine, and put the magazine back in his vest. He then walked over to the skeleton of a Demon and continued.

"Now, look at this Demon. No tools. No clothes. And I would bet you anything that if you were to kill a Demon today and examine its skeleton, it would look exactly the same as this one's skeleton, aside from the weathering of course."

Chuck was silent, and let Jonathan continue.

"This...all this..." Jonathan made a sweeping motion with his hand. "This could all be us in a week or two. And as strange as it is to say, in the grand scheme of things, whether we win or lose doesn't really matter."

Chuck looked strangely at Jonathan. "What do you mean by that?"

Jonathan continued. "Well, say that the Gate to Hell opened 50 years before it actually did, say, in 1925 or so. Can you imagine how utterly hopeless it would be to try to fight off Imps with a bolt-action rifles, or kill Demons with 30 kilogram Maxim guns? And even if a full barrage of artillery could be mustered in range, it would never be accurate enough to provide the sustained firepower required to kill a Greater Demon. Now, let's say that the Gate to Hell opened 50 years after it actually did, in 2025. Can you imagine how easy it would be to do the exact same thing? We might have smart bullets, or railguns, or weapon sights that ensure a one-hit kill every time. We might have whole robot armies that could fight for us while we control them from the safety of Cordoba. And imagine if it was 100 years after it actually opened? We might have nuclear-powered ray guns that fire in streams of energy and instantly and completely kill everything we aim at from many kilometers away. We might even be able to just bomb every demon in the world from space, far from the range of Greater Demon void blasts. My point is, whether the Gate to Hell opened in the year 1000, the year 2000, or the year 3000, the demons that came from it would be eternal and unchanging, forever forsaking tools, and only have the power to overwhelm and destroy us if we weren't sufficiently advanced to have the tools to kill them."

Chuck nodded. "I see where you're going. So, if we fail, it doesn't mean that the United States is doomed. It's not like the demons will suddenly start using tools, or start taking orders from a central authority, or adapt to become shock-proof and charge into Curitiba."

Jonathan nodded in agreement. "Exactly. So long as demons remain static and we remain dynamic, there's really no way in the grand scheme of things that the demons can win." Jonathan paused a moment, and then continued. "Unless, they either happen to attack in enough numbers to kill every human on the planet, which seeing as that they don't use boats and can't swim well, isn't very likely. Or, us dynamic humans do something ourselves that threatens us and really finishes us off."

"Like start using 300 megaton atomic bombs on each other, or summoning greater horrors than the demons to destroy us?" piped in Chuck.

"Exactly. But...if that's what's necessary, then the United States has already won. The great empires of the old world are shattered and Balkanized, and the only other remaining great power, Mexico, not only has never shown any ill-will to the United States before, but teeters on the brink of a government collapse. It's a victory of endurance rather than a victory of domination, to be sure, but a victory nonetheless. Now, that's a reminder that the Gate to Hell didn't just happen to open for no reason. It was humans that opened the gate, to cause death and destruction on other humans. Thus, regardless of whether we win or lose, and whether we are successful of getting to the Gate to Hell or not, with Diablo dead humanity no longer faces a serious threat to its own survival except by humanity itself."

"Don't forget Pharol the Black," said Chuck Horner.

"Eh," said Jonathan dismissively. "He's powerful, but I don't think he's any more invincible than Diablo was. Without some human faction to cheer him on and actively prevent the United States from finding a way to destroy him, Pharol will also die just like Diablo did. He's powerful, but just as ancient and static as any Demon. If he can't be killed today, we have only to flee from him and endure until the weapons of tomorrow are ready to be used against him."

Jonathan and Chuck continued on. Chuck was still uneasy about the increase in Demon activity and the sight of so many dead soldiers, but had a new perspective to think about. He put up his own facemask to help mask some of the odor of the place, and Jonathan neglected to play his harmonica since doing so would mean removing his facemask.

As the journey continued, Chuck read more of Deicide before going to bed each night.