Empire Of Ash

Chapter 27: Into the Inferno

The morning air was dense and thick, a cold reminder of the relentless war. Veradin soldiers huddled together in the trenches, waiting for orders. Their rifles were clutched tightly in their hands as they stared at the endless expanse of no man’s land. The once-great fields were now a wasteland of mud, debris, and craters left by artillery fire. The horizon was marked with smoke and dust that refused to settle, as if the earth itself was still reeling from the war.

Sergeant Drasko wiped the grime from his face, scanning the faces of his men. Tension was thick in the air, and he could feel the anxiety gripping them all. The mission today was clear: push forward across no man’s land, storm the Veldar trenches, and reclaim the ground that had been lost. But after weeks of battle, morale was low, and everyone knew that Veldar had something up their sleeve—something deadly.

Private Kovar, a young soldier barely past his 20th year, leaned in close to Drasko. "Sergeant, something feels off. It’s too quiet."

Drasko nodded. He felt it too. The silence wasn’t comforting—it was unnatural. The enemy always seemed to lurk just beyond the fog of war, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. But today, there was no sound of movement from the Veldar lines. No shouting, no gunfire, nothing.

Suddenly, the shrill blast of the commanding officer's whistle cut through the eerie stillness, signaling the start of the assault. Drasko steeled himself and gestured for his men to follow as they climbed out of the trench and charged into no man’s land. The ground beneath their boots was a soupy mess of mud and blood, making each step feel like a battle in itself.

The Veradin soldiers surged forward, rifles ready, as they moved closer to the enemy trenches. Artillery thundered in the distance, and sporadic gunfire crackled as bullets zipped past. Despite the occasional shot, the battlefield seemed too calm.

That’s when they appeared.

At first, Drasko didn’t notice them. The smoke and dust obscured everything, but soon the figures emerged from the haze—hulking soldiers clad in strange uniforms, their faces hidden behind black gas masks. They moved with an eerie calm, each one carrying a bulky two-handed weapon. Drasko squinted, trying to make sense of what he was seeing.

Then he saw the small cylindrical tanks strapped to their backs, connected to the flamethrower-like devices in their hands by thick hoses. The insignia on their shoulders caught his eye: a jagged, rune-like symbol that Drasko had never seen before. It was unsettling, a mark of something darker, something new.

"Sergeant...what are those?" Kovar’s voice was shaking.

Drasko didn’t have time to answer.

One of the masked soldiers raised their weapon, aiming the nozzle at the advancing Veradin troops. The weapon erupted with a roar, and a stream of burning liquid shot through the air. The fire hit the first row of Veradin soldiers, and in an instant, they were engulfed in flames.

The substance wasn’t just fire—it was something more. The liquid stuck to the soldiers, burning hotter and longer than anything Drasko had ever seen. The men’s screams filled the air, a horrifying sound as they writhed in agony, trying to douse the unquenchable flames.

"Fall back! Fall back!" Drasko shouted, panic gripping his chest. But it was already too late.

More of the Veldar operators unleashed their fire, turning no man’s land into an inferno. The flamethrowers spewed fire in wide arcs, covering entire squads in a deadly curtain of flames. Drasko watched in horror as the Veradin soldiers were incinerated before they could even reach the enemy trench.

The packs on the Veldar operators’ backs hissed and bubbled as they expelled the burning liquid. Drasko’s mind raced—how could they fight something like this? Their rifles were useless against such weapons. The advancing Veradin soldiers had nowhere to go; they were caught in the middle of no man’s land, trapped between the burning firestorm and the relentless Veldar forces.

Drasko dived into a nearby crater, pulling Kovar down with him just in time to avoid another jet of flame. The heat was intense, even from a distance, and the acrid stench of burning flesh filled the air. Drasko peeked over the edge of the crater, watching the flamethrower operators methodically advance. Each time one of them fired, the pack on their back seemed to pulse and hiss, like a pressurized bomb waiting to explode.

"We’ve got to stop them!" Kovar shouted, his voice barely audible over the chaos. "We’ve got to take them out!"

Drasko knew he was right, but how? Their bullets couldn’t penetrate the thick protective suits, and getting close to them was suicide. Then, an idea formed in his mind. If they could hit the packs...

"Listen to me," Drasko said, turning to Kovar. "Aim for the tanks on their backs. If we can rupture one, maybe we can take them down."

Kovar nodded, though fear still gripped his features.

Drasko gripped his rifle and waited for the next flamethrower operator to come into range. His heart pounded in his chest, each second feeling like an eternity as the masked soldiers drew closer. Finally, one of them was within range, flames spewing in a deadly arc across the battlefield. Drasko took a deep breath and aimed carefully, targeting the pack on the operator’s back.

With a squeeze of the trigger, his shot rang out. The bullet hit its mark, and for a split second, there was nothing but silence.

Then, the pack exploded.

The flamethrower operator was engulfed in a massive fireball, the explosion sending fiery debris in all directions. The shockwave knocked nearby soldiers to the ground, and the flames consumed anything in the immediate area. Drasko shielded his face from the heat, feeling the ground tremble beneath him.

The explosion gave the Veradin troops a momentary reprieve, but it was fleeting. There were still more flamethrower operators advancing, and for every one that fell, it seemed like two more took their place. Drasko knew they couldn’t hold out much longer.

"We’ve got to fall back!" Drasko shouted. "Regroup and find a way to fight them from a distance!"

Kovar and the remaining soldiers scrambled to retreat, but the battlefield was a nightmare. Bodies lay burning in the mud, their screams drowned out by the roar of the flames. The Veldar forces pressed forward relentlessly, the flames lighting up the battlefield in a hellish glow.

As Drasko and his men retreated toward the safety of the trenches, one final explosion rocked the battlefield. A Veradin soldier had managed to hit another pack, and the resulting fireball took out a group of advancing Veldar troops. But it wasn’t enough.

Back in the trench, Drasko collapsed against the wall, his breath ragged. Kovar slumped beside him, his face pale and streaked with soot.

"Sergeant...what...what was that?" Kovar asked, his voice barely a whisper.

Drasko stared blankly at the battlefield, the flames still burning in the distance. "Something we’re not ready for," he said quietly. "Something we’ve never seen before."

The Veradin forces had faced guns, artillery, and bombs, but this was different. Veldar had introduced a new kind of horror to the battlefield, and it was clear that the Allies had no answer for it. The flamethrower operators, with their black gas masks and the strange insignia on their uniforms, were more than just soldiers. They were a symbol of the technological and tactical superiority of the Veldar Reich.

As the fires continued to burn through the night, Drasko couldn’t shake the feeling that this was only the beginning. Veldar had more horrors in store for them, and unless the Allies found a way to adapt, they would be consumed by the flames of war.