Weltkrieg: A Youjo Senki Fic

The city was reeking, not in the slight terror of the innocent bystander cowering behind their window nor the joy of scream that followed, it reeked in blood.

Wolfgang with a speed that could almost rival our fastest mages, Beatrice -ripping, and shredding without any remorse but a glee marred his face.

Tank roared beside him as with an enhanced bullet ricocheted off his shotgun and turning the tank into a burning husk. He was getting comfortable with the mages in the air that couldn't hope to face him but struggle as they even couldn't scream with their bodies broken in thousand pieces.

I guess this is what pre-world war civilization could achieve the best at the moment. The soldier while not lacking in discipline, they were trained for mass mobilization in mind without valuing each individual skill. You were a soldier as long as you could keep your aim straight and boots polished. God intervention or not, they were falling like a row of wheat to scythe.

Most of the soldiers couldn't respond to how Wolfgang didn't know the meaning of space quarters in combat. A rather daring, reckless yet effective maneuver. They were not trained for close quarter combat, rather, spitting their bayonet up high like it was a pike. Which is a futile endeavor, once he set his next target, a fountain of blood was rose above.

Mashing, bashing, and bang with a graceful fluid of motion he effectively uses the weapon in his arms as an instrument of death.

But there was a wise saying, quantity made up the quality. For all his combat prowess, he was a single man, fatigue crept on him over mana exhaustion.

"Wolfgang, fall back, engage passive defensive maneuver."

"But!"

"Order, there's a limit you can do right now."

He gritted his teeth before launching the remaining cartridge on his arms magazine and leveled the entire building full of retreating and wounded soldier.

A good maneuver but that was basically a war crime. A crime we never committed, as far as I will write the record.

Monster.

Tyrant.

Warmonger.

Thanks to the machination of those worms.

Of course, it's not like we were idling either while Wolfgang cover most of the job.

"Major, report the situation."

Voiced the girl in front of me, Tanya Degurechaff, as we dodge the hail of flak beneath.

"We were tasked to assist you in this night raid, a raid that has gone awry if I must say."

I aimed, pulling the trigger as a blinding light engulfs the AA installation above the rooftop.

"Do apologize, anyone with a half-brain of a soldier could guess what they are. Commonwealth."

"Have you ascertained this Major?"

"Why should I. Their uniforms, weapon, tanks, and flying mage column was a dead giveaway, as open transmission channel was spoken in brits, they even didn't bother to hide."

They were wearing a brown, khaki uniform, which I presumed was coming from their Black-corps in the dark continent. The tea-drinker can't have the guts to face the empire in open but slaughter the minority that opposed their ways to the riches contained in the dark continent.

And I should be laughing right now, their tank was more horrible than the Francois. And the Francois were supposed to learn from them! A heating boxy metal strapped with a cannon was sufficed for them, to call it as a tank, though perhaps, I could give them a little credit for their ideas.

No, weren't they calling it as a tractor thingy, are they not? Pathetic.

I should make my own terms, like Richardcopter, Richardnium, Richard-ready-ration or Triple R in place of M.R.E. No, Perish the thought, I would be dying in embarrassment. Better let the sleeping idea lie.

I shuddered at the thought.

"Are you fell an ill, major?"

"How about the casualties, Major Degurechaff?"

"None, while they were able to ambush us, we managed to break-off to the outskirts and few of us were holding back the city until they were far away enough."

"Good, though it would be a pity if we don't give them a farewell gift."

Another clip was ejected, and a batch new one hammered to the chamber. There's no end, were they spawning somewhere or what.

At this point, we were conserving whatever bullets we got left. Switching to a knife, while Major Degurechaff with her trusty shovel as does the rest of her battalion.

Voices of gun wailed, spitting lead after lead. Blue reflection kept them away from us, most of the mages were slain for their limited number, but hundreds of flak and bullet threw at you from the ground, gives the magic shield a numbered time.

I wish I could blow them to the smithereens, if not for the civilian huddled inside the city. They didn't have an effective bunker system, lest a proper military or shelter bunker. The best they can do, was, to prepare a clay dig hole with the wooden beam as support instead of concrete and metal.

Static filled over the radio before unveiling Michael's report, "K-Kommandant, I've synchronized with their HQ mana signature."

To cut off the head of the worm.

"Good, any significance or anomaly?"

"None, a man had the mana signature you may looking for though."

A wicked smile marred my face, ah, to be given a sweet taste of revenge this early. Violet has reported to me before, they had got out of the city with the Prime Minister in tow and contacting the whole main armies.

"Secure any intel including the man, and destroy the HQ."

"As you will."

Switching the channel to the 203rd one, "Major, we've good news."

"Please do tell."

"My man has located the enemy HQ, and at the moment he's engaging them. Expect a stunned army in a few minutes, we extract him and get out of this wretched city. What say you, Major?"

"Sounds reasonable. Men regroup at me, we found ourselves a new objective."

Battle chatter enveloped the room, more like screaming in his ears and everyone inside it. The incompetent, they even can't scratch past their magic barrier.

They were the 9th division, requisitioned from the black continent to assist the Dacia in their war effort. Some level headed officers were protesting the course of action as reckless at best. How could they, after seeing the current state of the Dacian army, they were considering to pull back the plan and leaves before caught in the cross-fire.

But, of course. None were given by the field general. While the order may assist the Dacian, there's a true reason why they remain in the city.

To kill the devil of the Rhine. His mission, his lord's wills, his vendetta. For none, shall stand between the holy night of solace. The only group who understands his lord's plight.

But why!?

Why!?

And why!?

A new piece was thrown to the board. This is must be his lord's trial, meant for him. Yes, this must be a trial, a trial he must overcome.

But everything has gone disarray, Thousands of equipment was manifested. It should have been enough to kill the Devil, yet, it was never predicted that the Empire will reply the declaration so furiously and sending two of their aces of ace just to face the Dacia!

That damned bloody so-called paladin!

Report only identify 5 mana signatures of the paladin mages wing, the rumor was true, empire mages were forces in their own way. 3 managed to breakthrough their stockade in the city, 2 manage to break through to the outskirts.

The bunker was hastily built, cleverly hidden beneath a hospital. But, the tremor of explosion after explosion, the ceiling started to tremble as the light was jumping and follow the gravity below.

Again, it should have been enough to mask their mana signature above, who was recording the battlefield for further analysis.

At least that what was he could do for now. Not only his lord's, but he also has a country to serve. And the information may prove vital for further engagement in the future.

Of course, it was never enough.

The sounds of shout, bark, and gun were resounded not only through the radio but the door ascending to the upper floor. Muffled scream, with the sounds of crumbling wall and pillars, resounded and echoed throughout the room.

Men abandon their posts, clutching their guns, machine gun, pistol, rifle, all pointed towards the door. A loud thud, and series of blood scream later, it went into silence.

Some lurched their stomach, with a sweat they were preparing for whatever devil spawn behind that door.

The silence was broken, the door with a loud crash fall of its hinges. The fire was spewed off the barrel, concentrated towards the door, in a madness cacophony.

Bullets, after bullets were spewed forth until their barrel, has gone red, their casing has gone empty, and their knife fixed.

It was, not enough. Chamber ejected, and a new clip inserted.

And someone said it, among the crowds inside the room, the cursed sentence.

Is it dead?

The answers were, two canisters, white and green thrown to the center of the room.

Some instinctively shield their body to whatever piece of cover they could find, some in shock as their eyes dilapidated in blinding light after the canister rounds.

And definitely, everyone was panicking, the canister thrown was not that of an explosion but a blinding flash of light and smokes.

In a mad rave and shout, they pulled the trigger none caring where their barrel pointed to.

Trusting their sense of sound, they shot to loud thud of their comrade and the sickening crunch of a bone snapped.

He was backing away, sidearm towards his front.

The smoke started to dissipate. His men were lying on the ground. Their bone structures were bending to weird angle, as crushed with a mighty blow and their eyes bulging in terror, save the few groaning coming from some of the high-ranking officers.

A man stood in the middle of the carnage, so black as black the caw of a raven in the night.

I see that's their objective all way long.

He throws his pistol towards the temple of his head.

May the Lord forgive me.

But before he could pull the trigger, the man in an inhumane show of speed, directed his fist towards his stomach.

A series of life is projected in his eyes before he falls to the ground and the world turned dark for him.

His last vision was that of the man's waist.