Another ordinary day… no, not an ordinary morning, for not even the skies themselves felt the need to hide what they feel. The clouds over their heads so thick it seems to threaten to suffocate the world below. Thick layers of snow, much already streaked and chunned with browns and grays, covered the lands. No sounds or sights of beasts or fowl, only the howling of the needless biting winds, screaming for the countless souls of the past.

A fitting landscape for the ancient borders between the two nations, currently at war, before then merely states of informal conflicts. Peace was never an option, the gods themselves have ordained such a state of affairs since the dawn of time.

Or so the church says, and no one of that world dares to question the church openly. The corpses of the ones who did hung from gibbets at countless crossroads and town squares.

This time however, it was different. This was to be a war to end that open sore of evil and wickedness, the final ultimate showdown to determine the fate of a world.

None of that mattered to the huddled masses of isekais scattered in the dilapidated parody of an encampment. For them, it was just another day, another week, another month. Of suffering, savagery, hatred, self loathing, regrets, and a maelstrom worth of troubling emotions kept in check through an imposed morality beaten into their very essence.

As the rabbles of isekais formed up, organized by their regiments, ready for their daily thrashings and beatings the mood was one that had reached its final stage: Numbness. Beyond the maelstrom of incoherent rage, the fear of suffering, the resignation to fate. All those stages having long since passed on, leaving a vast emptiness in the husks of men.

But no one showed up. As the minutes passed into hours and still they waited, the grim reaper picked off ones and twos as the time passed, the death mourned by none of those around. It was mundane, their time had simply come again, the ironclad knowledge of reincarnation and alternate worlds had long stripped away the pain of death, even before the numbness took what remained.

At long last, though what time of the day it was by then was hard to tell due to the still ever looming cloud cover, a disheveled subaltern stumbled onto the raised platform. More puzzling than the fact that it was such a junior officer conducting this daily task was the lack of armed escorts: no matter how beaten and broken they were, the officers never let their guard down… or was it merely their desire to trust the regular executions to natives only?

“We- You-” The words sputtered out of his lips as the clearly distraught man attempted to collect his thoughts on the fly. “Forsakened.” The word came out he sat down on the platform, seemingly drained in energy and spirit.

Still they stood silently, though waves of confused and undefined fear washed through the ranks. It was one thing to be bombarded with grandiose but ultimately insincere threats from the forces beyond, but another to see one of… them, reeling from their own words.

After a long moment of silence, the subaltern finally spoke again as he found the energy to stand up. “The war is over. Evil has triumphed.”

Continued silences and lack of reaction greeted the bombshell. For the isekaied ones, those words meant little, if anything at all. What evil could be greater than the ones that beat them with the most savage cruelty day in and day out?

“Do you understand nothing? You have been sold! To the evil empire as chattel slave!” He doesn’t understand, why are they still so sullen- To be enslaved by evil, the most terrible of fates imaginable-

He slumped, as realization sets in. The masses in front of him are already in the most terrible fates already, since they day they had been dropped into this unhappy world. The familiar biting silence descended once again, as he trawled through his mind for words, somethings, anything-

Then the questions started to gnaw at him. Why is he still fighting? Fighting for the lie of all lies. After all, they have been betrayed. Literally sold out to the enemy by the higher aristocracy to pay off their war and gambling debts, for they had grown bored of this rather expensive adventure. They have sated their glory for war and blood, now they sate their purses and moneybags.

He closed his eyes and sighed, before opening them again. The scene remained unchanged. Still they stood, as if waiting. Waiting for something…

Lies they might have been, but that’s all they have left. The lies of honor, of duty, of sacrifice. All for nothing perhaps, but it’s more than otherwise. He took a deep breath before speaking again.

“I will be frank here: you are all slaves now. Only through death can you regain your freedom and honor.” He said, genuinely, for it never occurred to him that there was simply the option of walking away, as he never saw the isekais as anything more than props: human shaped objects to follow the expected script of his society. After all, such a righteous cause as the crusade against evil they’re on needs no justification. It is right, noble, and will be done as the gods ordained.

All was not yet lost, even in this darkest time. The hour of salvation is at hand…

Lies. Lies to the self. To the soul. The front of his brain snarled at the rank naivety, or delusion. No matter. Yet for all that, it offers no alternative. The moral code ingrained in the very essences forbids them.

But what of them? Still they stood, sullen and unreadable as ever. A few more had dropped in the meantime, and as before no one mourned their passing. What’s even going on in their minds? For the first time in his life he had to confront the reality that, perhaps his idealistic sentiments aren’t shared by these otherworldly rabble.

The stares continued, on that cold and unforgiving morning. He nodded to himself, making up his mind. Whatever happens, his own conscience will be clear.

“Tomorrow. We leave at dawn, and if the gods are willing, we’ll die the worthy death by dusk.” He said, his words came out hauntingly. Waiting. Waiting for the reaction from the isekais. With a realization he found that he wouldn’t be surprised if they simply killed him then and there.

A couple of shots rang out from the regiments, all missing him by a yard as arquebuses tend to be. He looked into the crowds, but could see no evidence of who had shot. The mumbling amongst the masses had stopped however, as everyone waited in bated breath.

“I can promise nothing except death.” He said, the words resounding despite how softly he spoke. “It will be painful, miserable, and probably meaningless. But it will be an end.” He shrugged. “So again I offer the following: we’ll march out tomorrow at dawn. Dismissed to your duties.”

The spell broke, as the formations scattered, as the men went on to their daily tasks. The subaltern sat down on the platform again, wondering to himself whether he believed his own words or not.

Not that it matters, not that any of it matters. As the world around him collapses before his eyes, what’s within is all that’s left.

The question is, what is that within?

It appears that he’ll have to face that come dawn tomorrow.

……

For their last day in existence in that world, the mood at the encampment was oddly cheerful. It was as if they were looking forward to the notion of going out in a blaze of glory. Or merely dying in general. Many were digging shallow graves all around, others making simple grave markers, crosses that ironically have similar meanings across worlds, and yet similarly stripped of their original religious connotations to those who’ll soon be under them. A few of the more daring have busted open the supplies stores, and foods and liquors of all sorts flowed, even if much of that almost immediately came back out again due to refeeding syndrome, and soon followed by some of those men themselves. The only ones, perhaps, that died with a genuine smile on their faces.

Despite, or because of, that, there was a sense of purpose all around, as rather than being prodded on like always before, the men conducted themselves with intent and energy. There is a finality, a light at the end of the tunnel. The probability that said light is of the imminent fires of death and damnation did little to deter them, those who have already suffered far worse in their second lives.

What the almighty truck-kun takes, he also gives. Finally stripped off of everything, these men could live their lives without regrets, if only for a brief moment.

……

When dawn came again the sun rose out of a sky cleared of all clouds, and even the ravens high above kept a respectable distance, as if to give what’s about to transpire its proper dignity. The snow remains, as the bitter cold, yet if anything those seemed to make the scenery more clear and picturesque.

Out of the encampment the штрафбат/Isekai Regiments marched, the flags unfurled towards the skies by a gentle breeze. As the dust rises above them, and the gods and banners with them, as they hold their weapons at the ready for the final battle.

A sight of what could have been, of what it is, and of what will soon be snuffed out.

As they moved into formation, a group from the enemy on horseback trotted towards them with a flag of truce. At the distance of 30 paces they stopped, as the lead among them, a man clad in full black metal armor of exquisite quality, spoke.

“Condemned otherworlders. You have served and fought beyond reproach, and fulfilled all duties of honor. The lord general offers you an honorable surrender, in which you retain your arms, and march in formation, to where you came from.” He gestured behind him, at the vast array of troops and cannons, as far as the eyes could see and even beyond. “Total destruction is certain.”

“We thank him for his kind offer.” The subaltern now turned general replied. “But this is a штрафбат army. Certainty does not absolve duty.”

The black armored man sighed, with a slight nod of acknowledgement before speaking again. “I understand. May the gods grant all of you what you deserved that they denied you in this world.” With that remark finished, the group turned and trotted back to their lines.

“The fates have been sealed, our destiny is at hand.” The general said towards the regiments, in what he hoped to be appropriate stirring words. “Forward, march!”

As one the regiments of isekais began moving forward, to the sounds of drums and pipes. A magnificent sight of blocks of men moving with a purpose. The most pointless of battles, for a cause already abandoned by all others, yet paradoxically the most worthy cause of their lives.

It was not long before the solid shot of the enemy cannons slammed into the blocks, carving streams through them, of which bodies littered denoting their passage. Screams of the dying filled the air, as their blood and guts sprayed those around. However they marched on, for it was nothing that they hadn't seen before.

As they came closer, the solid shots were replaced with canister fire, and vast swaths of men simply crumpled and dropped. The screams intensified as more and more men simply were erased from existence. Still they marched, undeterred, almost robotic. The results of rote beaten into them.

Finally, came the arquebuses, as sheets of fire exchanged by both sides and smokes of a thousand guns filled the fields. Smoke so thick that even the banners disappeared from view of those who held them. Along with the crack of gunfire the штрафбат regiments disappeared entirely to the human senses. On and on the fire continued, and the smoke swirled around. At long last, the firing gradually stopped, as even the arquebuses and cannons themselves glowed from the heat of the firing.

As a silence descended and the smoke slowly cleared a grisly sight revealed itself: broken and shattered bodies lie where they fell as far as the eyes could see, and the snow soaked red with blood.

Then, as the ringing in their ears cleared they hear the sounds, the cries of help, of mercy, of the living who now envy the dead. For all the talks and beliefs of higher and abstract notions, the pain of death was remorseless in stripping those away, revealing the naked horror of reality.

Even for the veterans amongst the empire’s forces, it was an emotional sight.

In ones and twos at first, then more, as soldiers put down their weapons and rushed forward, to give what aid they could. In war enemies, and now in peace simple victims. Separated by honor and greed, now united by pure, unrefined, human compassion.

For the survivors, as they see their former enemies coming to their aid, the last lie of their former masters twists in…

------

… yet in its moment of triumph came the betrayal, as the armies of the kingdom were corrupted by the baleful influences of the demon king. Enslaved to their new masters, they turned on their former country, only to be defeated at the last minute through the actions of crown prince-

… although a short respite was gained, more terrible calamities soon befall the kingdom as the hordes of even greater evils descend upon the lands…

-Excerpts from an entry level history textbook from the Restored Holy Kingdom of Gulaelt.