How can I win?

This was the sole thought that refused to budge in my head as I leant on a desk of actual wood. How long had it been since I'd been in a place of such opulence? I clenched my shaking hands.

I'd fought so hard. The 203rd had fought so hard. How? How can this be one of the few remaining military buildings in Berun as our enemies claw closer to our heart, ready to shatter what little remains?

I could not have made it more clear. How many papers did I write? How deeply did I implore the General Staff about what would come? Every chance to win, they dashed. Should I have ignored orders? Should I have gone for Free Francois despite being directly ordered not to?

What were we even guilty of? How could the world condemn us for a war that we didn't even start?

I wanted to scream. I wanted to fly over to the General Staff and blow them up myself before the Russy would get the chance.

I knew I wouldn't, even now. I needed rationality more than anything else, even as I could feel the voice in the back of my head telling me just to use a combat stimulant formula, grab my gun, and kill as many as I could. At least, in the euphoria, I could forget about all of this.

I still had some of the 203rd left, mostly the veterans, including Visha. I'd thank God if I didn't hate the very idea of the creature.

I needed to think! But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't figure out a way to save this. I could feel that accursed creature smiling upon me, fueling my rage even further.

Since arriving in Berun, we'd received no orders besides the one telling us where we were to stay. Any attempts to speak to the General Staff—to Zettour or even Rudersdorf—were thoroughly blocked, as if we were being schemed against.

I'd heard rumors of the Emperor debating surrender, but the idea was ludicrous. I remember the history of my own world; I know I shouldn't be so shocked at how this has panned out. But how could I not get angry, frustrated? So many of our own had died, and the idea of this lazy, opulent Emperor throwing in the towel despite that? None of this was fair.

The sense of defeat seemed to permeate everywhere. Not even the 203rd, infamous for facing the worst situations possible, was capable of fighting this off.

I felt like a rotting relic of an already dead ideal in this room of polished wood and hedonistic luxury. I clenched my hands tighter, nails digging into my palms. It wasn't fair, but fairness never mattered, did it?

Was it Being X again, pulling strings to see me suffer? The thought of that smug, sanctimonious bastard entity lurking in the shadows made my skin crawl. I refused to beg or bargain. No, I'd fought too hard, clawed my way too far to ever bow down, even now, when there was nothing left.

I stared at the papers on the desk, scrawled with warnings and carefully calculated strategies that the General Staff had all but thrown into the fire. Had I been left alone to make decisions, I would have crushed the enemy by now.

A knock at the door interrupted my spiral of fury. I didn't look up—what was left to say? I couldn't stand hearing the voices of anyone who thought we still had a chance. But the knock persisted, timid and hesitant.

"Colonel?" Visha's voice floated through the door, quiet but insistent.

I sighed, forcing myself to release my clenched fists and take a deep breath. "Enter."

The door creaked open, and Visha stepped in, her usually composed face edged with concern. Even in the middle of hell, she somehow managed to look innocent.

"Visha," I said, my voice clipped. "I hope there's a reason for the intrusion. I don't have time for pleasantries."

She nodded, swallowing nervously. "Yes, ma'am. It's… the General Staff. They're on the phone for you."

For a brief, ridiculous moment, I almost laughed. Now, after ignoring us for days, they wanted to talk? I motioned for her as I stood up and began walking to the ad-hoc communications room we had set up.

I motioned for the soldier to hand me the receiver, catching a quick look of relief as the unknown soldier placed the bulky phone in my hand. Even they could tell something was off—the tension crackling in the air.

I put the receiver to my ear, forcing my voice to remain level. "Lieutenant Colonel Tanya Degurechaff, 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion, reporting."

There was a pause—a moment of dead air that seemed to stretch into eternity.

"Degurechaff," a gruff voice finally responded, one I recognized as belonging to General Zettour. "There's no easy way to say this, so I'll be direct."

Suddenly, a slow, familiar dread crept over me. The air grew thick, the lights around me flickering faintly. I knew this feeling, this ominous weight pressing down on my chest. I clenched my fists, heart pounding. No. Not now. Not here.

"Being X…" I muttered, barely keeping my voice steady. "You wouldn't—"

A sudden light flooded the room, swallowing the mahogany walls, the cold papers, all the communication equipment. I tried to move, to grab my rifle, to fight back. But an invisible force held me in place, like the world itself was slipping from my grasp. Everything was stripped away but my anger, leaving me suspended in blinding, piercing light.

"Still, no faith," Zettour's voice grumbled through the receiver still held at my ear.

"You?! Why now? Your scheming was finally reaching its end." I knew this creature had played a part in the Empire's defeat, but I couldn't understand why he would appear now. He hadn't even bothered when I finally dealt with his little Unified States rat, whom he blessed.

"Hmph, impudent. You should feel blessed to have my attention so near your end." The voice crackled with disdain, its tone thick with amusement that only intensified my loathing.

"Blessed? By the interference of a sadistic entity with nothing better to do than meddle in mortal affairs?" I spat. "I'd sooner find peace in hell."

"Oh, so you believe in hell?" Being X replied, an edge of dark humor in its voice. "But you misunderstand. My interest in you is not out of pity, nor mercy. It's your stubborn refusal to acknowledge the divine—to accept faith in the face of trials beyond your control, to accept faith in me."

I could feel my teeth clench, every ounce of my will resisting the urge to scream into the ether. "Faith in you? What have you done but turn life into a string of sufferings and traps? There's no proof of any purpose in all this—only cruelty!"

Being X gave a soft chuckle, a condescending sound that echoed in the blank, empty space around me. "Exactly. Each trial I set before you has been designed with the intent to push you, Degurechaff. To show you how fragile mortal willpower truly is when it collides with divine purpose. And yet, you persist in defying me."

"Because I'm not going to play your game! I won't accept a creature that would inflict so much pain on others in order to achieve their conceited objective of making me break!" I retaliated, my anger building to a boil. The only thing that was on my mind was the 203rd, the number of people who had perished in a game for this creature, this rotting carcass of a so-called "God."

"No matter what you throw me into, I will survive without bending a knee."

For a moment, silence filled the void, and I sensed a shift in Being X's presence—a prickling of interest, like a hunter examining prey that has managed, against all odds, to escape. "So be it, then. If you're determined to resist, perhaps a new trial will be enlightening."

The words dripped with foreboding. Before I could respond, the light around me pulsed, thickening, and I felt myself drawn into it, hurtling forward through an endless tunnel of blinding white. The sensation tore through me, stripping away everything I knew, every tether to this new life I'd fought so hard to build. I refused to abandon the 203rd, Serebryakov, or anything else.

I tried to fight back, to brace myself, but the pull was irresistible. The world spun and twisted, and then, all at once, I landed on solid ground. Cold, sterile air flooded my senses. I opened my eyes to find myself in a narrow corridor, walls gleaming in metallic shades, lined with panels blinking with strange symbols and lights.

A quiet hum of machinery and distant footsteps brought me to my senses. The air felt… wrong, too still, too artificial, as if I'd been thrown into a sterile, manufactured world far from the worn reality of the Empire. I quickly took stock, glancing down. My uniform was gone, replaced with what looked to be an unfamiliar olive-grey garb with a strange, blocky insignia on my chest.

The closest I could compare it to would be the old staff uniforms of my first world, with distinctly German-style pants.

Before I could gather my thoughts, a woman in a sharp uniform walked past, sparing me a curious glance. "Lieutenant Degurechaff?" she asked, with a voice that sounded… almost kind. "The fleet admiral needs you in the briefing room. You're expected to review the new tactical assessments with the rest of the officers."

"Another war, then?" I whispered bitterly under my breath, clenching my fists. Being X had sent me to another battlefield, to a place that looked like nothing from either of my worlds.

I bit down on my anger, forcing myself to maintain a calm expression. "Understood," I replied with a slight nod, my voice steady.

As she led me through the labyrinthine halls, the details of this new reality began to crystallize. Everything was advanced, impossibly so. I glimpsed soldiers and officers from species I'd never seen, all dressed in the same crisp uniforms, some bearing strange devices at their hips. Whatever war Being X had thrown me into, it was far from the familiar battlegrounds of Earth.

We reached a large briefing room where a holographic projection filled the air, displaying a colossal map of space littered with countless star systems. It depicted a network of fleets, battles, and shifting lines of control across a galaxy that spanned an unfathomable distance. I didn't even have a spare moment to take in all of this.

My guide nodded toward an empty seat, and I took my place as an older man with a steel gaze and an authoritative presence stepped forward, scanning the room with his eyes. "We are on the brink of a critical engagement. A turning point, perhaps." he began, his voice low and serious. "Intelligence has confirmed enemy movements in the Mid Rim. If we do not secure these systems, we risk losing control of vital resources and hyperspace lanes to the Separatist forces."

I listened, absorbing every detail. Somehow I could understand what was being said—could that Being X have done me an actual favour for once? Would I also be forced to pray for this one?

I would have preferred to have a moment to figure out what had happened to me. Was this body mine, or did I take over someone else's? That might explain how I could understand what was being said, if I was under some kind of assimilation with whoever this was before. But the lady had called me Lieutenant Degurechaff?

"Hyperlanes? What on earth are those?" I pondered mentally. I had no choice but to adapt to this world, to immerse myself in whatever conflicts it might have. As always, my survival depended on my ability to strategize, to manipulate, to remain a step ahead. If Being X thought he could break me with a new reality, he was mistaken.

This time, I'd prove my worth yet again. And in this galaxy, I would rise above the turmoil. Whatever tests Being X laid before me, I'd face them with my will unbroken, my resolve as relentless as ever.

This galaxy was vast, but war was eternal.

I gathered my resolve; I would have time to think carefully on what had happened later.

What I did know is that there was one constant, one truth that I held tightly onto no matter what: I would never surrender—not now and not to that Thing.