Spectre of the Sinner - Chapter 1 part 4: An unexpected disaster

POV: Tau de Mbatha y Diaz, 1049 UTC -03:00, somewhere in South America

As soon as my commanding officer concluded his speech, he produced several wand-like things from his [Armory]. No matter how you look at it, at first glance they would not be out of the place of a fantasy novel about magic, even if only these wands were made of plastic. As a connoisseur of such fiction, I’d love to spend time playing the acting game like a kid… if only those memories about past engagements using these wands didn’t haunt me that badly.

And then, to make the whole affair more dreadful than it already was, the man started to search one of his many pouches on his fatigue. The skull face pattern on his gas mask did a rather poor job of hiding his sadistic grin, as he pulled a couple of talismans from the pouch. That’s right, the same kind of talismans that you’d only see used by the so-called exorcists, with each talisman intricately decorated, or I should say, written with ancient characters of unknown origin. Normally that sort of thing would get the bearer of such items to be ridiculed, yet the war, or to be more exact, the usage of nuclear weapons and the fallout of the act, had dramatically changed the perception, at least for the military, for better or worse.

Now, even without looking at the other fellow veterans of this unit, a wish to bolt out of the space and what would happen next already enveloped our thoughts. We the veterans could only offer pity for the four new additions to our group, for their innocence would soon be defiled by the insanity that our unit commander would offer.

“Sir, permission to speak.”

“Go ahead,” my vriend replied as he was planting the explosive charges onto the ground into a circular pattern, “[First Sergeant Nagase].”
“How do we use these, err, wands sir?”

At the greenhorn’s question, I could sense an exasperated frown underneath my vriend’s mask. A chorus of light chuckles ran through the ranks of the senior members of the unit, all eager for the next development while the greenhorn of an operative was waving the wand.
“I do recall that the training course has a particular section which you lot complained”, a reverberating robotic voice poured out, “as confusing and useless right?”

Being caught off guard by the question, the sergeant could only straighten their back forcefully, along with their peers. Before letting my vriend continue his theatricals, I hurriedly interject in, hoping to save the poor bloke from further embarrassment.

“That controversial part”, I intentionally drilled these words into the newbies as I stepped in, “is to utilize these wands. Watch for yourself.”
A quick glancing exchange between us later, and I pointed the wand to the remains of a barricade. I sighed inwardly, bracing myself for the inevitable cringe.

“O fire, burn bright and true.”

A fireball, the size of a basketball, was formed and then hurled toward the sorry remains of the barricade. Flying faster than a tennis ball served by pre-war athletes, the fireball smashed into the target, exploding into a fiery display of destruction. Amidst the gasps of astonishment and awe, I turned back to face him, only to meet his shrug of sympathy. I and the other veterans could only offer him a silent rebuke, hoping in vain that he could fix his bad habit.

“Be careful not to bite your tongues off lads, we’re in for a tough ride here.”

As we signaled each other indicating our readiness, he began to mutter, no, quietly chanting in an ancient language of unknown origin. The ominous litany sounded as if he was conducting a dark ritual to summon an unfathomable being that would swallow everyone up with its insatiable appetite.

The talismans then glowed a bright light as the litany reached its end, creating what could be called a magical circle, with lines of an octagram soon drawing itself into existence. Beads of sweat formed on my forehead, knowing that we would soon be seriously swallowed into the depths of insanity, one that was forcibly forced upon us thanks to this war.

“Five, four, three, two, one. FIRE IN THE HOLE!”

The charges successfully detonated, sending the concrete slab we were standing on plummeting into the underground void. It is said that time seems to flow much slower when you’re free-falling to your doom, and indeed that familiar sensation slithered its way into my skin, forcibly injecting dangerous thoughts into my mind. Refocusing on the task at hand, we found ourselves crashing into what could be called a surreal sight, borderline utter madness.

Instead of busy packing things up once the news that the compound was under assault, they seemed to be much more occupied with keeping on doing whatever they were in the middle of. A circular formation of men dressed in wizard-like robes; all seems lost in their chanting toward a mechanical contraption. And that contraption, an arched superstructure containing a glowing ball of volatile energy ball, was rattling violently as the mass of energy was constantly shooting out unholy dark sparks of lightning. Yet despite the rather dangerous scene, a group of seemingly high-ranking people was observing not too far from the contraption. It takes a special kind of talent to have a front-seat row in front of such scary stuff you know.

But for now, that unholy mess was the least of our concerns. The enemy guards, who were watching over the whole ritual with uneasiness, seemed to have awoken from the daze and started to train their guns on us while covering for their charges. And before we could properly fight those guys, it was high time for us to leave the free-falling platform.

Through my vriend’s shared neural connection, we already had a designated destination to regroup once we jumped off the free-falling platform. And we indeed made good use of our surprise party crashing: a couple of flashbangs and smoke grenades were thrown in the enemy’s direction, concealing our movements from their returning fire. Of course, I laid down a couple of fierce bursts of my buzzsaw, scoring a couple of kills in the process.

Just as we leaped onto one of the many observing platforms surrounding the space, I noticed that the wizards were mobilized with their wands now pointed in our direction. It seemed that one of my earlier bursts had downed a couple of their comrades, as their gazes now brimmed with sheer hostilities. And soon enough, their intentions would be translated into reality as the wands shone a brilliant light, readying the spells.
A mechanical whirring and a flash later, those wands suddenly lost their light, leaving their owners staring dumbfounded at the sight. The whole underground space also turned silent at once, leaving only the sparking buzz of the contraption as background music.

“How… is that… possible?”

A soft, shaken murmur could be heard from one of the privileged folks on the other side of the machine, in disbelief over the phenomenon. Sorry dude, you have my commiseration here. My vriend lived and died on the hill of unfairness and ridiculousness for ages ago.

“What the fucking Hell are you guys staring at, we don’t have much time left! Keep on fucking killing those bastards!”

A hoarse roar from the commander jolted everyone awake from the stupor, accompanied by gunshots from his Vektor pistol. Of course, I soon resumed pulling the triggers of my buzzsaw, only to realize that it was a short burst away from running dry. Loudly clicking my tongue in annoyance, I hurriedly inserted a fresh ammo belt as I advanced to a new position, giving the barrel a quick check just as I slid into the cover. Good, it seemed that I could go through about another two hundred rounds before I had to change it. Good thing that I had with myself at least 2 spare barrels to have a quick swap when it was needed.

Then, a loud rumbling sound shook the whole space. The large, well-armored door leading to this cursed space was slowly opened, flooding the battleground with an indescribable sensation. Even though the other side was supposed to continue their fighting, and yet they still took a brief moment to be stunned by their reinforcements. Some of them also nervously throw a glance toward their rear, as if expecting to be stabbed in the back by a malevolent force.