'This is not Salvation.'
In the waning days of World War II, as the Allied forces closed in on Berlin, a sense of impending doom engulfed the German capital. It was a city battered by relentless Allied bombing, its streets haunted by the specter of destruction and despair. Among the remnants of the proud Reich, a figure in black could be seen walking into the frontlines against the winter Bear.
'This is a Condemnation.'
The figure gently placed his MG 42 on his shoulders, and his Sturmgewehr by his side as he took in his surroundings. A city ravaged by warfare, its once grand architecture reduced to rubble, its citizens gripped by fear and uncertainty. Adolf Hitler's vision of a grandiose German empire was crumbling, and the Red Army was closing in. As Berlin teetered on the brink of collapse, the city's inhabitants faced a stark choice: to stay and endure the horrors of battle or to embark on a perilous journey toward an uncertain fate.
He didn't see what he picked.
'When they put you in that black uniform, that rune is engraved into your soul.'
He was privy to the desperation within the German High Command. Adolf Hitler's refusal to surrender had condemned Berlin to a protracted and bloody siege, no way out except to surrender, to give away your very soul to these mad dogs who dared to trample their rightful owners. Straightening the creases on his uniform, he knew he didn't have that right.
Not as an Obersturmbannführer.
'They don't want you to escape their sick and twisted ideas.'
A group of soldiers passed him, Wehrmacht troops, Hitlerjugends, wielding Kar 98s and carrying boxes of grenades. They didn't pay attention to him, why would they? There is no longer a meaning to obey and meaningless salutes. They all wanted to survive, but they were unable. Years of sole dependance to the cause, once it's gone, is there even any reason for you to live?
'And even if you do, and even if they keep their promises…'
The master race was reduced to nothing more than a lost stray, unable to live in the wild after no more leashes were given.
'What freedom awaits you? A world of red, black, and white, filled with suffering and unrewarded obedience?'
Pitiful, and sorrowful. The man shakes his head as he continues his walk, the rhythms of MP 40s following his steps as more and more corpses enter his gaze. He was nearing the standoff, T-34 tracks were heard as he grinned sadly.
'If there still is hope, it lies beyond the veil. Hope in this void is as illusionary as the starlight.'
Time to face the music, one dead Russki at a time. He lifted his MG to the side, blasting a group of them in one swoop. He looked upon them with sadness as he put them out of their misery. They were as young as him, children thrown into this sick war without a clear goal.
'I will choose to breathe my last here, a forgotten soldier from a forgotten era.'
But the job needs to be done.
'Unknown.'
"Пожалуйста! Моя мать-"
Brrrt*
"Ах ты, немецкая собака!"
'Unheard.'
Bang! Bang!*
Otherwise they'll die to an even angry enemy.
"Чувствуете ли вы себя счастливым сейчас?"
Bang!*
'Uncontrolled.'
As the last of the fine men were killed, he looked towards the east. There he saw the Tank he had heard earlier, moving towards him. With a sad smile on his face, he readied to charge.
'They'll get their execution.'
For what other way is there, than forward?
'I will have my freedom.'
"FÜR DEUTSCHLAND!!!"
"Враг на передовой!"
But I am still chained.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Orario.
A name of foreign tongue, and yet everyone in the world has at least heard of them once. The City of Gods, the City of Heroes, Walls of Hell and whatever creative aliases that people come up with.
Names that promise glory and liberation from the mundane life, a chance to become something more, a vision of what could, and should always have been. Whether that be the Adventurers that explore the Great Dungeon, or a mere Citizen living in the center of the world, no position too low.
Yet that salvation is not for everyone. No matter what, no matter where, a 1% exists and they are the ones striving. It never gets bored at Orario, that's why the Gods flocked their like rats to a poisoned piece of meat. It won't kill them now, but it will, sooner or later.
Those were thoughts that Hashana Dorlia would never outright say. No matter if he's a Level 4 at one of the biggest influential Familia under Lord Ganesha, there's just certain things that are better left to rot in your head. Not that such thoughts were expected from him in the first place.
The benefits of being Lord Ganesha's favorite drinking buddy and an actual scumbag that more often than not, thinks with his lower half.
"Hmm, Hashana-aniki, why did you come here?"
"Just bored, might as well look over the gates, find something interesting to see."
Hashana sat down on top of the wall, a fist supporting his cheek as he yawned, watching the shapes of clouds or the Demeter Familia's farm. Unfortunately, the Goddess herself was nowhere to be seen, at least he'll have something to observe.
"Why aren't you in the Dungeon then?"
"Didn't feel like it, not with Loki Familia preparing for an expedition. I might have…. Hehehe, you know what happened."
"Seriously, only oddballs get to Level Up. Normal people like me won't reach shit, no matter what I did."
Now that brought a frown to his face. Sulking for not Leveling Up, he can understand. But blaming it on one's own personality or traits? This is the kind of talk that gets the other Adventurers raring to go for a bloodletting, and not just towards monsters.
"I was a normal human too, and scumbag peepers like me are a dime a dozen like dirt in a mine cave. It wasn't the circumstances of birth, trust me…. I think it's all about faith."
"Faith? On what, myself?"
"Yeah. All of these 1st Class Adventurers, they were just like you and me. But they had a dream, and ambition to reach onto the stars above, until they burn from the sun. Like, like that one guy, Icarus?"
"Oh, I know him. That crazy Architect's son, I've heard of him."
"Yeah, just like that! Reach for the skies, even if you fail, you'll fall amongst the stars. It doesn't matter where you're from, or who was your ancestor. What matters is you, and that my friend, is the greatest weapon anyone could have."
The guard looked down, thinking of what Hashana said. A mere boy from a small farm in a small village that went to Orario in hopes of becoming a Hero, yet stuck on the gates of Level 2, unable to proceed any further. Hashana chuckled as he tore his eyes off the boy. It's always a special thing to give advice to rookies and the-like, a pleasure reserved for the Veterans.
"I think I get what you're trying to say, but how do I find that ambition?"
"Hell if I know, I don't even have one myself."
"Geh, a guy who gives advice about things he doesn't even know."
"Hah! If everyone knew the exact steps of finding a purpose in their lives, we would have less Adventurers and more happiness!"
They shared a long laugh as the clock ticked twelve, the ringing of the Church bells heard from far away. A sign of the time of prayer for the Shepherd and flock, to prepare for what's to come.
One.
The cracklings of thunder were heard from the distance, an instant change from the peacefulness that once was. The farmers on the outskirts of Orario hasten to protect their crops.
"Oh, looks like it's raining. Better find shelter."
"Yeah, I'd rather head to Mia's. Are you coming?"
"Ain't got nothing better to do, I'm down."
Two.
In the deepest floor of the Guild, the Guardian of the Sky raised his head. The thunder was unnatural, unhostile yet dangerous yet the same. Did a God cause some mischief? But thunder…. It can't be.
Three.
A blade unsheathed as the Princess bared her fangs towards the sky. Her breath was visible from the cold, yet her eyes were bloodshot. The only thing that ever once triggered her to this point was the One-Eyed Black Dragon, her end goal to kill.
But why does this storm feel…. Horrid?
Stronger than the Dragon that took her everything? That may be so. But whatever it is….
It is far, far worse.
Four.
And without a doubt, the Dragon heard it as well.
It roared like never before, shaking the very mountains.
The captured Princess woke up from the attempt of intimidation, but she knew better, smiling to deep slumber once more.
It roars of fear and desperation.
Five.
The artillery of raindrops hammers down to the ground beneath. No one remains in the streets. The beggars retreated to the sewers and their makeshift shelters, while those well-off can enjoy the warmth of home. But even then, the coldness was still felt by everyone, no matter how many logs were thrown into the fire. Without a doubt, a few corpses, frozen to death, will be found the next morning.
Or maybe swept off, no one to see their faces no more.
Better dead than to see a sunless tomorrow.
Six.
The chatters of the Pub were loud and lively, an attempt to ignore the vicious storm outside. Mugs of beer and ale clanking against each other, talks of what monster's they've killed, how deep did they go, whatever rumors and conversations to keep the fire warm.
So was a certain Goddess, as she watched out of the window.
"Oi Syr, we're all busy here! Don't slack off just because Mama isn't he-"
The green elf was cut off as she was hugged tightly. The silver haired girl needed something to hold on to.
Anything, to protect her from the raging storm.
Seven.
"Thank you from the deepest parts of my heart, we can't repay you for this."
"Oh it's fine! I won't be the Goddess of Hearth if I don't help!"
Underneath a broken church, the unheralded flock is protected by a homely Divine. The basement managed to hold them all, albeit nudging shoulders and elbows with each other.
"Still, I haven't felt a Storm this huge ever since I was a child, when Zeus battled against Thor."
"Hmm, there can't be a battle though, that's prohibited by law. And besides…."
The Goddess laid down on her bed.
"This storm is full of rage…. And sorrow. Someone is angry, that's for sure."
Eight.
An elderly man looked up for the first in a long time, a glimmer of hope streaked across his face as the storm rages. Chuckling, he raised his staff in celebration, for his son had returned.
Nine.
The Hunt was postponed after the first few drops. Her children were complaining at first, but as time passes, they've learned a new lesson to always trust their Goddess's instincts. The thundering rain would surely scare away any prey.
"Goddess, how did you know?"
She didn't answer for a few seconds.
"We are Hunters by nature as per my domain, but…."
If any of her children were to see her face right now, they would be perplexed.
"I felt like we will be the ones being hunted instead. A bad omen if you will."
Ten.
"If i can kill rain, someone would've done it long ago."
Mia Grande sighed as she traveled down the road with her Caravan full of spices. She had gotten wind of a supposed special ingredient from the Far East that makes anything taste good, good enough for them to get addicted and spend their entire bank account on it. The only downside is that consuming too much can make someone sick until they puke. With a fresh batch of 6 barrels of the spice, she was happy with her catch, until the rain came.
"I swear to all that is holy, that if even a single drop fell inside, I will kill every single God of Thunder or rain or nature, that i can get my hands on!"
Eleven.
"But still, I got myself quite the good batch!"
Mia smiled greedily at the thought of her customers ordering until every single Valis had been spent, but quickly smacked her out of it. People could get really sick, and it'll be bad for business if her Pub is closed for spreading what could be argued is a drug. Adventurers, her main source of cash would be too sick to work, and a chain reaction would happen. The Dungeon would thrive because no one went in to kill the monsters, they'll escape easily.
"Tch, what the hell am i thinking? Am I really that old?"
She smiled warmly as she reminisced about her Adventurer days. The once bright and young Captain of the famous Freya Familia, reduced to an old lady who is willing to go all the way across the world, just for some spices.
"Maybe I'll ask if I can join Ryuu, or maybe go in by myself? Pretty sure I never really resigned. But i'll have to buy new equipment, doubt i'd fit in my old one."
The mere thought was enough for her to get angry. She was a Dwarf to begin with, being slim was more hard than challenging the One-Eyed Black Dragon to a fist fight while being one armed.
Twelve.
And as fast as the storm came, it left in a blink, leaving mist as an aftermath.
The weary soul awoke with a jolt, disoriented and surrounded by the muted sounds of nature. The earth beneath him was rough, cold and uneven, and the cold breeze rustled the leaves overhead. As his senses gradually returned, he realized that they were lying on the forest floor. Their body ached, and their mind raced to piece together what had happened.
Slowly pushing himself into a sitting position, he took in his surroundings. Towering trees loomed above, their branches creating a dense canopy that filtered the sunlight into dappled patterns on the ground. The forest seemed vast, its depths cloaked in mystery. The distant calls of birds and the gentle babbling of a stream nearby.
'This isn't Berlin.'
His training kicked in as they assessed their situation. Checking his equipment – his guns, backpack, and other gear were still with him. It was a relief to find that nothing was missing. His black uniform was without holes, strangely. And he vividly remembers unloading every bullet he had to take down the incoming Tank, ending with success as the crew died as he slowly died next to them.
Who knew shooting an 1800 RPM machine gun at one spot long enough will be strong enough for it to penetrate? Pretty sure there's bullet size as a factor.
'Can't be Heaven either.'
He rose to their feet, wincing as they felt a dull pain on his sides. Blood. As he limped forward, the forest enveloped them with its sights and sounds. The air was heavy with the earthy scent of damp soil and the faint fragrance of wildflowers. Surrounded by the beauty and serenity of nature, yet the nagging uncertainty of their circumstances weighed on.
'Not France…. Clean air, away from the battlefield, not Europe then.'
Struggling to get his bearings, he knew he'll need to find a way out of the forest to survive. Grunting as he forced himself to walk, no matter how his body aches. The forest path was uneven, and progress was slow, but determination pushed him forward.
Lest he'll die. The blood still flowed, and beasts roamed no matter manner..
He stumbled forward, almost slipping from the wet moss beneath. With one hand gripping his wound, and another on his Sturmgewehr 44. The weight of the MG was the main problem, but leaving it is just a guarantee for death. And besides, he'll never leave his guns anymore.
Not after Minsk.
A screech was heard as he looked up and saw the most disgusting abomination he ever saw. A disgrace to the word, "Humanoid" as the green monster bashed a wooden club to the ground. Intimidation? Pathetic.
"The fuck you looking at? Green living piece of scheisse."
It doesn't seem to speak the same language, but it understood that it was an insult. I roared and prepared for a jump, an invitation for a 7.62 into its skull. A single crack was all it took, and the abomination fell like a sack of turds.
"I've killed bigger and meaner bastards than you."
Taking off the MG, he grinned as he took off his cap, the snow white hair shown to the world, and prepared to fight. The gunshot was enough to alert others of his presence. Tying the sling of the Stg to his sides, making a makeshift tourniquet and a hip firing position. With finger on the trigger, he waited.
He will not lose his freedom, not anymore.