6:30 am, August 17th, 1917
The morning sun broke through the heavy clouds, casting a pale light over the war-torn landscape. Jaune and his unit stirred from their restless slumber, their bodies still weary from the previous night's mission. As they emerged from the makeshift resting area, they were greeted by the harsh sight of life in the trenches.
Corporal Schmidt, a grizzled veteran with scars etched across his face, rubbed his eyes and stretched his tired limbs. He let out a gruff sigh, the weight of the war evident in his weary gaze. "Another day in this blasted trench," he muttered, his voice laced with a mix of resignation and determination.
Gustav, a seasoned soldier known for his resourcefulness and quick thinking, joined Schmidt in surveying the surroundings. "We've got to keep our wits about us, lads," he advised, his voice steady. "Those Tommies and Boches won't give us a moment's respite. We must remain vigilant."
Private Becker, the youngest member of the unit, yawned and stretched, his face still etched with remnants of the youthful innocence that had not yet been completely stripped away by the horrors of war. He glanced at Jaune, seeking guidance and reassurance. "What's the plan for today, Unteroffizer Arc?"
Jaune met Becker's gaze, his eyes reflecting a mix of determination and weariness. "Save the formalities for the frontline private Today, we'll regroup with the rest of the unit and receive further orders," he replied, his voice steady despite the weight he carried on his shoulders. "Our mission is not complete. We'll continue to fight, gather intelligence, and do what we can to push those Frogs and Tea Drinkers back."
As they moved through the bustling trenches, Jaune and his unit encountered fellow soldiers going about their duties. The atmosphere was a blend of tension and camaraderie, with soldiers exchanging weary nods and the occasional shared smile, finding solace in the unity forged by their shared hardships.
Offizier Richter appeared from the maze of trenches, his commanding presence filling the air. "Arc" he called out, his voice cutting through the clamor of the battlefield. "You've been called for orders and debriefing."
Richter turned towards the rest of Jaune's unit. "You three, take this time to rest and recover. You've earned it."
Schmidt nodded appreciatively, a flicker of relief crossing his weathered features. "We'll do just that. Unteroffizier You handle your business, and we'll be ready when you return."
With a nod, Jaune left his unit in their designated resting area, their exhausted bodies finding respite in the relative safety of the trench. He made his way through the bustling trenches, navigating the maze of soldiers and supplies until he reached the command post.
Inside, Hauptmann Müller awaited him, his gaze piercing yet laden with a sense of understanding. "Arc," he called out, his voice carrying a mix of authority and empathy. "We need to debrief and discuss your mission from last night. Join me."
Jaune stepped forward, his posture straight and his expression focused. He followed Müller to a quieter corner of the command post, away from prying eyes and the cacophony of the battlefield. There, they settled into a makeshift office, maps and reports strewn across the table.
For the next hour, Jaune and Müller delved into the details of the mission. They analyzed the gathered intelligence, assessed the success and shortcomings of the operation, and strategized for the next steps. Müller provided feedback, his experience and insight guiding Jaune toward a clearer understanding of their objectives.
As their debriefing came to a close, Müller's expression grew more somber. "Before you go, Jaune, there's someone I'd like you to meet," he said, leading Jaune through the command post to a more secluded area
As they approached a set of heavy iron doors, Jaune's heart quickened with anticipation. He knew that this meeting held significance, that it involved someone of higher rank and authority. The doors swung open, revealing a spacious room adorned with maps, military insignia, and a large wooden table.
Seated around the table were several high-ranking officers, their uniforms adorned with medals and decorations. At the head of the table sat Generalfeldmarschall Prince Rupprecht, a commanding presence radiating authority and wisdom.
Prince Rupprecht looked up from the documents spread before him, his keen eyes locking with Jaune's. "Ah, Unteroffizer Arc, please come in," he greeted, his voice resonating with both power and warmth. "We have been briefed on your successful mission and have some valuable information to share with you
Jaune stepped forward, saluting smartly. "Thank you, sir," he replied, his voice steady despite the awe that swelled within him. "I am honored to be here."
Prince Rupprecht nodded, a slight smile playing on his lips. "Your dedication and resourcefulness have not gone unnoticed," he remarked. "Please, take a seat."
Jaune complied, finding a place at the table among the esteemed officers. As the conversation unfolded, Prince Rupprecht and the other high-ranking officials revealed their analysis of the gathered intelligence. Maps were unfurled, strategic locations were pointed out, and the impending threat of a combined assault by the British and French forces became apparent.
Prince Rupprecht's voice cut through the air, commanding attention. "Gentlemen, we have received intelligence indicating an imminent combined assault by the British and French forces," he began, his tone measured yet urgent. "Their target is a key sector along our lines. If they succeed, it could lead to a significant breakthrough."
Jaune's heart raced as he absorbed the gravity of the situation. The upcoming battle would be pivotal, and the fate of countless lives hung in the balance. He focused on the details, committing the information to memory.
To Prince Rupprecht's left, General Von Armin pointed to a map spread out on the table, tracing his finger along the enemy's expected route of advance. "Their initial assault is projected to strike at dawn here," he explained, pointing to a specific trench line on the map. "Our reconnaissance suggests they have concentrated significant forces for this operation."
Müller chimed in, indicating several other locations on the map. "In addition to this primary assault, we have reports of possible secondary attacks along these sectors," he said, his voice tinged with concern. "The enemy aims to divide our forces and stretch our defenses thin."
The room fell into a brief silence, the weight of the impending battle hanging heavy in the air. Jaune's mind raced, contemplating the strategic implications and the potential consequences of failure. He knew that their response had to be swift and calculated.
Jaune's mind churned with thoughts, analyzing the situation from different angles. As the silence lingered in the room, he couldn't help but speak up, his voice cutting through the tension.
"Excuse me, gentlemen," Jaune interjected respectfully, gaining the attention of the high-ranking officers. "If I may, I have an idea that could potentially address the enemy's plan to divide our forces."
All eyes turned to Jaune, curiosity flickering in their gazes. Prince Rupprecht gestured for him to continue, encouraging him to share his thoughts
"We know that the enemy intends to launch secondary attacks along these sectors," Jaune began, pointing to the marked locations on the map. "To counter their strategy, we could consider deploying a specialized reconnaissance team to gather intelligence and disrupt their coordination."
His suggestion hung in the air, the officers pondering the feasibility and effectiveness of Jaune's proposal. After a moment, one of the officers spoke up, intrigued by the concept. "Unteroffizer Arc, elaborate on your idea. How do you envision this reconnaissance team operating?"
Jaune's confidence grew as he expanded on his plan. "We could form small, agile squads equipped with light weaponry and trained in stealth tactics," he explained. "Their mission would be to infiltrate the enemy lines, gather information about their troop movements, and disrupt their communication channels. By doing so, we can sow confusion and prevent their secondary attacks from synchronizing effectively."
Prince Rupprecht leaned back in his chair, considering Jaune's proposal. After a moment of contemplation, he nodded approvingly. "Unteroffizer Arc, your plan shows promise," he acknowledged. "I will assign a group of skilled operatives to implement your strategy. They will work in conjunction with your unit to ensure that our defense remains resilient."
A sense of gratification filled Jaune's chest as his suggestion gained the support of the high-ranking officers. He understood the gravity of the responsibility that came with it but felt a surge of determination to see it through.
"I am honored to be entrusted with this opportunity, sir," Jaune replied with a salute. "I will coordinate closely with the reconnaissance team to ensure our efforts complement each other. Together, we will strive to secure victory for our forces."
The room buzzed with renewed energy as the officers began discussing the logistics and implementation of Jaune's plan. Ideas were exchanged, strategies refined, and a united front emerged. Jaune's sense of purpose soared, knowing that his contribution could make a difference in the upcoming battle.
With a firm nod from Prince Rupprecht, Jaune stepped back, allowing the officers to continue their preparations. He couldn't wait to share the news with his unit, knowing that their combined efforts would be crucial in turning the tide of the impending assault.
Leaving the command post, Jaune made his way towards his unit's resting area, his mind abuzz with a mix of anticipation and focus. The weight of the impending battle pressed upon him, but he was fortified by the shared sense of purpose that permeated his being.
As Jaune approached the resting area, he noticed Schmidt, Gustav, and Becker gathered together, engaged in a serious discussion. Their voices grew quieter as they spotted Jaune approaching, their eyes turning towards him, expectant and curious.
Schmidt stepped forward, his features etched with a mix of determination and curiosity. "Well, Jaune, what did the Generals have to say?" he asked, his voice steady yet filled with underlying intensity.
Jaune met Schmidt's gaze, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "We have a plan," he declared, his voice resonating with confidence. "In a few hours, the enemy's going to attempt to divide our forces, but in order to prevent this, we'll be working alongside a specialized reconnaissance team. Our role is vital in disrupting their coordination and gathering intelligence."
Gustav's eyes gleamed with a renewed sense of purpose. "That's excellent news," he remarked, his voice tinged with anticipation. "We have an opportunity to turn the tide of this battle and fuck up some Tommies."
Becker nodded eagerly. "I'm ready, Sir," he affirmed, his voice filled with youthful determination. "We've trained for this, and we won't let our Kameraden down."
Jaune nodded, the weight of responsibility mingling with his unwavering determination. "We've always risen to the challenges thrown our way," he said, his voice resonating with conviction. "This battle will test our will and metal, but we can do this I have faith in all of you."
As Jaune and his unit made their final preparations, a thought crossed his mind. He remembered that two of their soldiers, Müller and Hoffman, were receiving treatment at the field hospital for wounds sustained in their previous mission. Jaune's sense of duty and camaraderie compelled him to check on their condition and discuss their readiness to rejoin the battle.
With determined strides, Jaune led his unit towards the field hospital, a bustling area where injured soldiers were being tended to by dedicated medical personnel. The sight and smell of missing limbs, bleeding bandages, antiseptic, crutches, and weary faces reminded him of the harsh realities of war.
Inside the field hospital, Jaune located Schneider and Wagner, lying on adjacent cots, their uniforms replaced with simple white medical gowns. The pale light filtering through the windows illuminated the room, casting a somber ambiance.
A doctor, his face lined with exhaustion, approached Jaune and his unit. "Unteroffizer Arc, good to see you," the doctor greeted, his voice laden with weariness. "I assume you're here to check on your men?"
Jaune nodded, his concern evident in his eyes. "Yes, Doctor. How are Schneider and Wagner faring? Are they fit to rejoin us in the coming battle?"
The doctor sighed, his gaze shifting towards the two soldiers lying in their cots. "Schneider," the doctor continued, his voice laced with regret, "endured a severe shrapnel wound to his left leg, several bayonet slashes, and stab wounds to his chest, It was a close call, but our medical team managed to stabilize him and perform the necessary surgeries. His recovery is progressing well, but it will take some time before he can fully regain his strength and mobility."
Jaune's brows furrowed with concern upon hearing the extent of Schneider's injuries. He knew the importance of allowing ample time for proper healing, understanding that rushing his comrade back into active combat could jeopardize both his well-being and the success of their missions.
The doctor's tone brightened slightly as he turned his attention to Wagner. "Wagner, on the other hand, sustained a gunshot wound to his shoulder and some minor scrapes from shrapnel," the doctor explained. "Thankfully, the bullet didn't cause any significant damage as it passed, though without nicking any artierys. With rest, proper wound care, and continued monitoring, he should be able to rejoin your unit on the battlefield."
A sense of relief washed over Jaune at the news of Wagner's more favorable prognosis. He understood the doctor's cautionary advice, recognizing the need for Wagner to pace himself and avoid overexertion in order to prevent any setbacks in his recovery.
Taking a moment to gather his thoughts, Jaune expressed his gratitude to the doctor. "Thank you for your dedicated care, Doctor. Schneider and Wagner are vital members of our unit, and their well-being is of utmost importance. We will ensure they receive the necessary rest and support for their recovery."
The doctor's gaze shifted from Schneider and Wagner to Jaune, his expression curious and thoughtful. "Herr Arc," he began, his voice carrying a tinge of intrigue, "I couldn't help but notice that you've never required medical attention for any injuries sustained on the battlefield."
A flicker of unease crossed Jaune's face, but he quickly composed himself, not wanting to reveal the true source of his resilience. He offered a modest smile. "Luck has been on my side, Doctor," he replied, trying to downplay his seemingly exceptional fortune. "I've been fortunate enough to avoid any major injuries thus far."
The doctor raised an eyebrow, his suspicion evident. "Luck can only account for so much, young man," he remarked, a hint of skepticism in his voice. "In the chaos of battle, it's rare for a soldier to emerge unscathed without the aid of medical intervention."
Jaune's expression faltered briefly, caught off guard by the doctor's observation. He knew that his lack of injuries raised suspicions and revealing the truth about his aura, and Remnant was out of the question. He needed to find a way to deflect the doctor's curiosity without divulging his secret.
"Ah, well, Doctor," Jaune replied, his voice filled with a touch of self-deprecating humor, "I suppose I've been fortunate enough to avoid the worst of it. Call it luck, if you will."
The doctor's brow furrowed slightly, unconvinced by Jaune's explanation. He had seen soldiers with incredible luck on the battlefield, but it was rare for someone to escape unscathed throughout their entire service. Nevertheless, he chose not to press the matter further, respecting Jaune's privacy.
"I see," the doctor responded, his tone tinged with a hint of skepticism. "Luck can certainly play a role in surviving the horrors of war. Just be mindful, Herr Arc. Sometimes, it's not just luck that keeps us safe."
Jaune nodded, grateful that the doctor didn't push for a more detailed explanation. He understood the doctor's suspicions and the need for caution in a time of war. Revealing the truth about his origins from Remnant could have unintended consequences. The notion of being a potential subject for experimentation, a pawn in the creation of an army of invincible super soldiers, had crossed his thoughts before. It was a secret worry he harbored deep within, knowing the dangers that could arise if the ability of Aura and Semblances were discovered and somehow replicated by the enemy.
But now, standing at the precipice of a critical mission, Jaune pushed aside those concerns. The fate of the Fatherland, the lives of his comrades, and the countless others affected by the war took precedence over his personal fears
"Thank you, Doctor," Jaune said, his voice tinged with gratitude. "I will keep your words in mind. The safety and well-being of my unit are my utmost priority."
With a final nod of understanding, the doctor turned his attention back to his duties, leaving Jaune and his unit to continue their journey. Jaune couldn't help but carry a sense of unease with him, knowing that his secret remained hidden for now, but aware that he had piqued the doctor's curiosity.
As Jaune prepared to leave the field hospital and rejoin the rest of his unit, he turned his gaze toward Schneider and Wagner, who were still recuperating from their wounds. Despite the urgency of the mission, he couldn't ignore their presence, nor the camaraderie they had shared on countless occasions.
Walking up to their cots, Jaune offered a warm smile. "Schneider, Wagner, I wish you both a speedy recovery," he said sincerely. "Take the time you need to heal properly. We'll hold the line until you're ready to rejoin us."
Schneider, his face pale but determined, nodded in acknowledgement. "Thanks Kid," he murmured. "I'll be back on my feet soon enough. Just make sure those Brits and Frenchies know they picked the wrong fight."
Wagner, though still visibly weak, managed a faint smile. "I'll be itching to get back into the thick of it," he said, his voice filled with determination. "No injuries are going to keep me down for long, Sir."
Jaune clapped both soldiers on the shoulder, conveying his unwavering support. "Rest well, my friends," he said, his voice laced with genuine concern. "We'll make sure to hold our ground until you return. Stay strong and come back to us soon."
With a final nod, Jaune left the field hospital, his mind filled with a mixture of determination and hope. He knew that Schneider and Wagner were in good hands, receiving the care they needed. Now, he had to focus on the mission ahead and ensure the safety and success of his entire unit.
12:38:PM, August 17, 1917
Rejoining his unit in the frontline trenches, Jaune felt a surge of familiarity and purpose. The sounds of distant artillery fire and the smell of wet earth combined with the ongoing storm mingled in the air, creating an atmosphere of both anticipation and tension. His soldiers, his brothers-in-arms, greeted him with nods and determined expressions.
"Good to have you back, Unteroffizer," Schmidt said, clasping Jaune's shoulder in a firm grip. "We're as ready as we'll ever be for what's coming."
Jaune nodded, a sense of reassurance washing over him. "Glad to be back with all of you," he replied, his voice filled with unwavering conviction. "We've been through tough times before, and tonight won't be any different. We stick together, watch each other's backs, and we'll make it through."
As he settled back into his position, Jaune wasted no time in assessing the situation. He gathered his reconnaissance teams, a group of skilled and brave soldiers who specialized in gathering vital information about the enemy's movements and intentions. They were the eyes and ears of their unit, providing crucial intelligence that could make all the difference in the upcoming battle.
Gathering the team leaders, Jaune addressed them with a firm yet reassuring tone. "Gustav, Schmidt, I need you to lead the reconnaissance teams for this mission," he said, his voice carrying the weight of authority. "The information you gather will be invaluable in helping us anticipate the enemy's moves and plan our defense accordingly."
Gustav, a seasoned soldier with a keen eye for detail, nodded in acknowledgment. "We won't let you down," he replied, his voice reflecting his confidence and determination. "We'll bring back the intel you need to give us an edge in this battle."
Schmidt, a reliable and resourceful soldier, chimed in. "We'll be swift and stealthy, lad ," he assured, his voice carrying a hint of excitement. "The enemy won't know what hit them."
Jaune nodded, his eyes scanning the faces of his reconnaissance teams. "Remember, our success hinges on your ability to gather accurate information and relay it back to us swiftly," he emphasized. "Stay vigilant, stay focused, and above all, stay safe."
The reconnaissance teams, fully aware of the gravity of their mission, exchanged determined glances. They knew that their task was not without risks, but they also understood its importance in the grand scheme of the battle.
With final instructions and a shared sense of purpose, Jaune watched as the reconnaissance teams dispersed, melting into the darkened and cloud covered shadows of the trenches. Each member had a role to play, a contribution to make, and Jaune had full confidence in their abilities.
As he watched them go, Arc's thoughts turned to the impending battle. The sound of distant artillery grew louder, the tension in the air palpable. But amidst the chaos and uncertainty, he drew strength from the unwavering resolve of his unit, the camaraderie that bound them together.
Preparing himself mentally, Jaune steeled his nerves and focused his mind on the task at hand. The battlefield awaited, and he knew that their preparation, their intelligence, and their unity would be their greatest assets in the coming hours.
With the reconnaissance teams deployed and the frontline trenches fortified, Jaune stood tall, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead. The battle was imminent, and his unit stood as a formidable force, united in their determination to defend their position and repel the enemy's assault.
With the weight of leadership resting on his shoulders, Jaune's gaze swept over the other soldiers, each one a testament to resilience and sacrifice. They were his brothers, his kameraden, and in the crucible of war, they were forged into an unbreakable bond.
The air crackled with anticipation as Jaune stood at the forefront of the frontline trench, his senses heightened by the imminent clash of battle. Suddenly, a low rumble echoed across the battlefield, growing louder with each passing second. His heart quickened as he recognized the distinct sound of thunder. But then, the truth dawned upon him. It wasn't thunder—it was the deafening roar of incoming artillery strikes.
"ARTILLERY, Take cover!" a voice shouted, its urgency slicing through the chaos. Jaune's instincts kicked in, and he dived into the nearest dugout, seeking refuge from the impending destruction. The whistles of the incoming shells grew louder, their high-pitched shrieks filling the air. Explosions erupted all around, earth and shrapnel spraying through the air in a deadly dance.
Crouched in the relative safety of the dugout, Jaune's ears strained to pick up the sounds of battle cries. Over the deafening noise, he could hear the frenzied shouts of British and French infantry charging towards their position. The clash of bayonets and the firing of rifles reverberated through the mist-shrouded battlefield.
Amidst the chaos, Jaune caught glimpses of his comrades engaged in fierce trench fighting. The soldiers, both friend and foe, clashed in brutal close-quarters combat. The trench walls became a battleground, and each step forward was contested with blood and determination.
In the midst of the chaos, Jaune locked eyes with Becker, who was locked in a life-or-death struggle with an enemy soldier. Jaune rushed to his comrade's aid, delivering a swift stab to the assailant with the bayonet of his rifle. The enemy soldier crumpled to the ground dead, Becker, his face smeared with dirt and sweat, nodded his gratitude.
"We hold the line!" Richter shouted above the din of battle, his voice carrying a mix of determination and defiance. "We fight for the Fatherland!" Jaune yelled back
His words rallied his comrades, their spirits fortified by the unwavering resolve of their leader and comander. Side by side, they pushed back the advancing enemy, engaging in a desperate dance of survival. Each soldier fought with a fierce determination, knowing that their lives, their comrades' lives, and the fate of their homeland hung in the balance.
But amidst the intense fighting, the toll of war began to reveal itself. Soldiers fell around Jaune, their lives extinguished in an instant. Their names both know and unknow to him, but their sacrifice was not forgotten. He couldn't dwell on their deaths in the midst of battle, yet their loss weighed heavy on his heart
Through the haze of smoke and screams, Jaune locked eyes with Gustav, his face etched with exhaustion and determination. "Hold the line, Gustav!" Jaune yelled, his voice strained yet resolute. "We cannot falter!" Gustav, his body covered in grime and blood, nodded, a flicker of determination in his eyes. "I told you, kid, we stand strong!" he replied, his voice laced with conviction.
Jaune's heart swelled with pride at Gustav's unwavering resolve. But in the blink of an eye. A gunshot rang out, and Gustav's body jerked backward, a red stain blossoming on his chest. He collapsed to the ground, his strength draining away like the lifeblood that seeped from his wound.
"No!" Jaune's cry of anguish was drowned out by the chaos of battle. He rushed to Gustav's side, desperation gripping his chest. The world seemed to slow as he knelt beside his fallen brother, blood staining his hands as he cradled Gustav's head.
Gustav's eyes met Jaune's, filled with pain but still holding a flicker of determination. "Fucker got me, Don't... don't worry about me, I've gone through worse" Gustav mustered a feeble smile, his hand pushing against his gunshot wound
Tears welled in Jaune's eyes as he grasped Gustav's trembling hand. "You're going to be fine, Gustav," he said, his voice choked with emotion. "Stay with me, brother. We'll get you help."
Gustav's weak chuckle mingled with a pained groan. "No need, kid," he managed to say, his voice weak yet still full of resolve and fire. "Teach those Tommies a les... lesson got it."
Jaune's heart ached at Gustav's selflessness, his words a testament to the unwavering spirit of a true soldier. Swallowing his grief, Jaune gently squeezed Gustav's hand.
Jaune's heart swelled with pride at Gustav's unwavering resolve. "Just keep pressure on your wound. You better not die on me, you bastard," Jaune joked
With a heavy heart, Jaune reluctantly released Gustav's hand and tore his gaze away, focusing on the ongoing battle before him. He couldn't allow his emotions to consume him; there was still a fight to be won.
"Medic!" Jaune's voice cut through the chaos, rising above the din of battle. He scanned the area, desperately seeking medical assistance for Gustav. A nearby medic hurried to his side, their eyes meeting with a shared sense of urgency. "Don't worry, Sir, I'll take it from here,"
"Take care of him," Jaune implored, his voice laced with a mix of determination and concern. "Do whatever it takes to save him. He's a fighter."
The medic nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation. With a sense of purpose, they hurried towards Gustav, their medical supplies at the ready. Jaune watched them disappear into the chaotic fray, his heart heavy with the weight of Gustav's injuries.
Pushing aside his worry, Jaune refocused his attention on the battle at hand. The enemy assault continued, their relentless charge threatening to breach the defenses. But Jaune was determined to honor Gustav's sacrifice by repelling the attackers and securing their position.
"Hold the line!" Jaune's voice rang out, a beacon of strength amidst the chaos. Soldiers rallied around him, their determination fueled by the sacrifice of their fallen comrade's. With renewed vigor, they fought back, their weapons blazing and their resolve unyielding.
Amidst the cacophony of gunfire and explosions, Jaune's mind honed in on the task at hand. He led the others with precision and determination, their movements synchronized as they pushed back the assaulting forces. The battlefield became a whirlwind of violence, but Jaune remained resolute. His heart and mind focused on the objective.
Through the smoke and debris, Jaune caught glimpses of his comrades falling, their screams and cries for help, a painful reminder of the harsh reality of war. Yet he pressed on, pushing forward, refusing to let their sacrifices be in vain. Each step brought him closer to victory, and he fought with an unwavering resolve.
As Jaune engaged in the relentless chaos of battle, his path intersected with that of a formidable British soldier. Their eyes locked, and for a brief moment, time seemed to stand still amidst the chaos.
The British soldier sneered, his voice filled with contempt. "You think you can stop us, Kraut? You're just a desperate rat clinging to a sinking ship."
Jaune's jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing in defiance. "We'll see about that, you fucking Schweinhund. I've seen homeless people with better teeth than you. It's called a toothbrush for a reason!"
With those words, the clash of steel reverberated through the air as their trench knifes met. The British soldier attacked with ferocity, aiming to overpower Jaune with brute force. But Jaune, fueled by determination and a burning desire to protect his comrades, met each blow with equal strength.
Their blades clashed as sparks flew, the sound of metal on metal drowning out the sounds of battle around them. They circled each other, exchanging taunts and jabs in between strikes.
"You fight like a crippled rat, Kraut!" the British soldier taunted, a mocking smile on his face.
Their banter continued as they dueled, their movements becoming a deadly dance amidst the chaos of war. Arc's determination grew with each passing moment, his mind focused solely on defeating his adversary.
"At least I know how to fight. Besides, rats know how to survive!" Jaune retorted, his voice tinged with a mixture of anger and defiance. "You fight like someone who's had a silver spoon up their ass!"
With a swift and calculated move, Jaune managed to disarm his opponent, sending the British soldier's weapon clattering to the ground. The soldier stumbled backward, a mixture of surprise and anger etched upon his face.
"What was that about fighting like a rat!" Jaune declared, his voice filled with triumph.
The British soldier, refusing to back down, spat on the ground and lunged at Jaune, attempting to grapple him into submission. Jaune's combat training kicked in, and he skillfully evaded the attack, countering with a powerful blow to his opponent's jaw.
The soldier staggered, blood streaming from his split lip. He glared at Jaune, a mix of rage and begrudging respect in his eyes. "You'll pay for that, Bastard!"
Jaune, his chest heaving with exertion, stood tall, unwavering. "Not today, Islander."
With a final burst of determination, Jaune delivered a swift fatal slash that sent the British soldier crashing to the ground. He lay there bleeding, defeated, and vanquished.
As Jaune stood over the defeated British soldier, victory seemed within his grasp. But just as he prepared to move on, a glint of desperation flashed in the soldier's eyes. In a final act of defiance, the soldier reached for his belt, his hand clasping a grenade.
Time seemed to slow as Jaune's instincts kicked in. He lunged forward, desperately attempting to disarm the soldier before it was too late. But the soldier, fueled by a fanatical determination, pulled the pin and held the grenade tightly.
Their eyes locked once more, and Jaune's heart sank as he saw the twisted grin of resolve on the soldier's face. In that fleeting moment, the soldier extended his arm, showing Jaune the ring of the grenade
"For God, King, and Country," the soldier whispered, his voice filled with a chilling conviction.
Realizing the imminent danger, Jaune's mind raced, searching for a way to escape the impending blast. He grabbed hold of the soldier's arm, desperately trying to wrestle the grenade away. But it was too late. The soldier's grip remained unyielding.
With a surge of strength and determination, he pushed away from the soldier, desperately trying to create distance between them.
The explosion ripped through the air, consuming everything in its wake. The force of it threw Jaune backward, his body tumbling through the air as debris and dirt rained down around him.
As the smoke cleared and the ringing in his ears subsided, Jaune slowly rose to his feet, his body aching and the possibility of several broken ribs but miraculously intact. He looked back at the spot where the British soldier had stood, finding only a crater of destruction and remnants of what once was.
For a moment, silence hung heavy in the air, broken only by the distant echoes of battle. Jaune took a deep, painful breath, his heart heavy with the weight of the relentless brutality of war.
As Jaune pressed on, the chaos of the battlefield surrounded him. Explosions reverberated through the air, and the cries of wounded soldiers echoed in his ears. Through the haze of smoke, he caught sight of a group of soldiers engaged in a fierce struggle with the enemy.
Determined to lend his aid, Jaune hurried towards them, his steps quick and purposeful. As he drew nearer, he recognized their faces— Hauptmann Müller, Corporal Schmidt, and Private Becker. They fought with valor, their weapons swinging with precision and their voices raised in shouts of defiance
"Jaune! Over here!" Müller's voice cut through the cacophony, his eyes alight with relief and determination.
Joining their side, Jaune swiftly assessed the situation. The small band of soldiers was locked in a relentless skirmish, pushing back against the advancing British and French forces. Together, they formed a stalwart line, determined to hold their ground.
"We have to eep fighting!" Jaune bellowed, rallying their spirits. "We can't let them advance any further!"
Schmidt, his face streaked with dirt, blood, and sweat, nodded in agreement. "We hold this line, no matter the cost," he declared, his voice carrying the weight of experience.
The soldiers fought with renewed vigor, their movements synchronized, and their resolve unyielding. Jaune exchanged glances with each of them, their eyes reflecting a shared determination to protect their trench, their comrades, and their homeland.
As they pushed back the onslaught, Jaune's mind flashed back to the fallen soldiers they had encountered earlier. The memory fueled his determination, reminding him of the stakes and the sacrifices that had been made.
Amidst the chaos, Jaune found himself engaging in hand-to-hand combat with a French soldier. Their eyes locked, and a charged silence hung between them. With each swing of their weapons, their clash became a battle of wills.
"You can't stop us, you repulsive brutes!" the French soldier snarled, his voice filled with rage and accent heavy.
Jaune met his gaze, his own eyes burning with determination. "Sorry frog but won't let you advance any further!" he retorted, his voice unwavering.
Their blades clashed with intensity, the clash of metal reverberating through the air. Jaune's heart raced, his mind focused solely on the fight at hand. With every strike and parry, he channeled his training and his unyielding resolve.
The skirmish raged on, each soldier fighting tooth and nail, driven by a shared purpose. Together, they pushed back against the tide of enemy forces, their collective strength an unbreakable wall.
As the dust settled and the enemy forces thinned, the soldiers shared a brief respite. Panting heavily, their faces streaked with dirt and sweat, they locked eyes, a silent acknowledgment of their unwavering bond.
"Stand together men" Müller said, his voice filled with conviction. "No matter the odds, we will prevale."
As the battle subsided and the dust settled, Jaune's adrenaline began to wane, giving way to a searing pain coursing through his body.
Unbeknownst to him, the explosion from earlier had left him wounded, grenade shrapnel embedding itself deeply within the flesh near his stomach.
Exhausted and unaware of the severity of his injuries, Jaune's steps faltered, his vision blurring at the edges. The adrenaline that had sustained him throughout the fight now masked the true extent of his wounds.
"Jaune, are you alright?" Müller's concerned voice reached his ears, muffled and distant. Jaune blinked, trying to focus on his comrades gathered around him, their faces etched with worry.
"I'm... I'm fine," he managed to utter, his voice strained and weak. But even as the words left his lips, darkness encroached on his vision, like a heavy shroud descending upon him.
His body betrayed him, the pain intensifying as he crumpled to the ground, a gasp escaping his lips. Blood trickled from his wounds, staining the earth beneath him. The realization of his injury hit him with a sudden force, and panic surged within him.
Müller, knelt beside him, his voice a blur of concern. "Stay with us, Jaune," Müller implored, his hand pressed against Jaune's shoulder, trying to anchor him to consciousness.
But the world around Jaune faded into darkness, his body succumbing to the blood loss and exhaustion. His eyelids grew heavy, and the sounds of his comrades' voices became distant echoes. With a final, feeble attempt to hold on, Jaune succumbed to unconsciousness, his body limp on the cold ground.
The battlefield receded, replaced by a realm of silence and shadows. The chaos and clamor of war were replaced by a respite, albeit a fleeting one. Jaune's breathing steadied, his wounded body finding a temporary refuge in the depths of unconsciousness. The battle had taken its toll, exacting its price in blood and sacrifice.
For now, Jaune lay still, his fate uncertain, as his comrades remained vigilant, ensuring that he would receive the care and attention he desperately needed. The echoes of the battle faded into the distance, replaced by the rhythmic beat of his heart, a fragile reminder of life in the midst of chaos.
Not bad for a second chapter
Spenny: Well, the answer to that question is simple for every RWBY WW fic that's out there. The main cast almost always fights for the good guys, so I thought, why not change things up? Also, from what I have seen, there are only two rwby ww1 fics. Both have Jaune and the others fight with the Entente, and I kinda felt that there should be some change (Plus I might get hate for this, but I think Germany was the better option in a ww1 fic I mean they fought against the whole world and held out for nearly 4 years on two fronts)