The Battle of Haytham

The crack of dawn started with gunfire. Within minutes, thousands upon thousands of soldiers flooded the streets of Haytham, they chanted their prayers as they killed their enemies. They chanted their prayers as they burnt down the buildings of Haytham, the schools, the clinics, the hospitals, they slaughtered the defenseless masses by the dozens. And those who had the fortune of owning a weapon found themselves being overrun by people who believed in their immortality to such a degree that they would rather run through ammunition than to go around.

“SLAUGHTER! IT IS YOUR GOD’S ORDER!” They followed with their God’s will, they slaughtered the masses like cattle for sacrifice, blood ran through the cobblestone streets of Haytham. They seeped through the cracks like tiny rivers of blood each step of the way.

But really, there was an uncanny silence in Haytham, whose only noise was the senseless blasting by Karl Strauss, the fire eating up the wooden houses, and the incessant chanting of the soldiers. There were no screams from the inner parts of the city, no marches, no guns nor mortars being fired. Only a layered smoke which seems to come from the fires that blocked the view.

Over the distance, a scope is being pointed directly at Karl Strauss, “Fire, sir?” The sniper asked Agrippa. Agrippa stood there nonchalantly, with arms crossed, he witnessed the madness that Karl bought with him. He remembered Pvt. Karl way back, when Agrippa himself was a member of the Black Division and worked with the Sakilo-Jawanians. He wasn’t this religious fanatic, nor was he this grandiose.

He reminisced about the boy who couldn’t even reload his weapon properly, who couldn’t even shoot straight, who couldn’t even push up for once in his life. A nobody in a sea of death. The Karl Strauss he sees now, maniacally screaming at the ears of his soldiers, his slaves of God, was not the Karl Strauss he knew, “Fire.”

The gun fired its gigantic shell of a bullet, the gas blowback rushed and cleared the smoke which covered the ambush. The bullet flew unhindered, piercing straight through the forcefield that Strauss put up in front of him. It shattered into thirty million pieces, and in a flash, Karl found himself heartless.

The impact from the bullet launched him five meters away, and in that single instance, rather than being demotivated, demoralized, his starving army rallied under the death of their Colonel and let out a heart rending screech that could be heard to the heavens, in their heart was the final order Colonel Karl Strauss ordered them to do, “Slaughter, it is your God’s order.”

They charged to Haytham square as the smoke cleared up to reveal machine gun encampments facing them, they fired. A hail of bullets stormed out towards them, like a broom it swept through bodies upon bodies, some tried to charge the encampments but they found themselves limbless, soon, lifeless.

A number of them tried to retreat, maybe try to flank out the square, but they found themselves pushed back into the square by Agrippa’s reserved force, perfectly outflanked they slowly saw themselves being utterly obliterated, the blood of their comrades splashing to their face before finding their own after.

Even if they believe in their God, they bled, some had their beliefs waver, some didn’t, some was even more empowered in their immortality for every second that passed only to be proven wrong more seconds later. The artillery battery fired and the few that tried to retreat had their limbs separated by a gigantic wall of flames that crashed down and bathed the streets, it was the holy fire they sought.

The battle was over in minutes.

The attacks stopped after that, maybe because the Sakilo-Jawanians ran out of soldiers, maybe because their generals finally saw through the glamor and decided to hunker up down the line, who knows. Only Agrippa and Decimus knew that an attack to secure the Amazonias would not be possible.

In fact, over the other side of the world, Julius was receiving a phone call from Decimus, “I assume it all went well?” He asked.

“No planes, half our forces are down, the other half are wounded, but at least they stopped fighting, so I guess it went well.” They shared a laugh.

“Then I assume you got good footage?”

“Yes, I have. I relayed it to Guippy already, when are you gonna uh.. Send this out anyway?”

“Whenever Guippy finds it best.”

“Well, you ought to tell him to get to it soon, I doubt we’d be able to hold out for much longer around here.”

“Right, right. I’ll tell him to microdose the Antediluvian intranet with the clips.” Decimus heard a quiet snicker from his friend across the phone.

“What’s your real plan with this, von Kaiser?” Decimus pressed him on, this was something he was left in the dark on for most of their time together. Sure, Julius kept his plans a secret to everyone, but he bought victory which Decimus was satisfied by, but there’s a sense of finality in these recent conquests.

“Power.” Was his reply.

“Ah.” Was all he could mutter before dropping the call. There was weight to the words of his friend, he could trust him rest assured. But as for Decimus, he didn’t really fancy power plays, he saw the act of going for power when all’s well and done as a fool’s errand.

He was satisfied already, rich, and with his identity hidden he could fly back to the Cerulean Kingdom and live with his families once more, only to stick around due to his likeness for Julius, and perhaps the eagerness of battle.

Ah, but what use was battle when he wanted peace above all. Should war befall the Cerulean kingdom, should his personal paradise be desecrated, he wouldn’t know what to do. Maybe one of the reasons he stayed in Concursus was so he doesn’t have to entertain that thought.