Chapter 41: Call to Arms
Sidenote: Help me, my brain is hurting me because of theirs names ;-;
The base of the 98. Gebirgsjägerregiment (Mountain Fighter Regiment) hummed with activity as officers moved with purpose through its corridors. Outside, the sounds of boots crunching on gravel and the rhythmic clatter of training exercises filled the air. Inside the command center, however, the atmosphere was heavier—tinged with a sense of urgency that went beyond the usual routine of a military base.
An officer walked briskly through the hallway, a stack of documents clutched tightly in his hands. His face was set in a grim expression, eyes focused ahead as he approached a door at the far end of the corridor. He reached the door, took a deep breath, and knocked firmly.
"Herein," came the authoritative voice from inside, the single word spoken in perfect German cadence.
The officer opened the door and stepped into the office, snapping to attention as he did so. The room was orderly, the walls adorned with maps and military memorabilia. Behind a large oak desk sat the Oberst (Colonel), a man in his late forties with graying hair cut to regulation length, his uniform immaculate, and his expression one of seasoned focus. His nameplate read Oberst Hans Müller.
"Herr Oberst," the officer began, extending the file. "I have a report that requires your immediate attention."
Müller took the file, his piercing blue eyes scanning the officer's face for any indication of the gravity of the contents before him. He opened the file and began to read, his expression remaining inscrutable as he digested the information.
"Strange events in the Schwarzwald (Black Forest) ?" Müller's voice was calm but laced with curiosity as he looked up from the papers. "Explain."
The officer straightened, his voice measured as he relayed the details. "Yes, Herr Oberst. In the past few days, there have been multiple reports of unusual activity in the Black Forest region. Civilians and local police have gone missing—entire groups disappearing without a trace. Additionally, there have been reports of unexplained explosions, gunfire, and sightings of… strange creatures."
Müller's brows furrowed slightly, but he said nothing, motioning for the officer to continue.
"The Bundesnachrichtendienst (Federal Intelligence Agency) has also detected significant helicopter movement in the area, particularly near the Franco-German border. These movements are unmarked and do not correspond with any scheduled military or civilian flights. The local authorities are overwhelmed, and they have formally requested support from the Bundeswehr."
Müller closed the file, his face betraying little of what he was thinking. He tapped his fingers lightly on the desk, considering the implications of what he had just heard. The Black Forest was a place of old legends and mysteries, but this was something different—something tangible, and likely dangerous.
"The command has ordered us to deploy?" Müller asked, though it was more a statement than a question.
"Yes, Herr Oberst. We have been tasked with conducting a large-scale reconnaissance and investigation operation in the Black Forest. We are to deploy within three days."
Müller nodded slowly, his mind already working through the logistics of such an operation. "Three days… It will be tight, but it's manageable. Begin preparations immediately. I want all units briefed and ready for full deployment. We will not go into this blind."
"Jawohl, Herr Oberst," the officer replied, snapping a crisp salute before turning to leave.
"One more thing," Müller called after him, causing the officer to pause at the door. "Make sure our men are prepared for anything. This doesn't sound like a standard operation."
"Verstanden, Herr Oberst," the officer acknowledged, before stepping out and closing the door behind him.
As the door clicked shut, Müller allowed himself a moment of reflection. He stood from his desk and walked over to the window, looking out over the base. The Black Forest was a place of natural beauty, but also one of ancient and sometimes sinister tales. Whatever was happening there now, it was far more real than the old ghost stories.
His gaze drifted to a framed photograph on the corner of his desk. He walked over to it, picking up the picture with a gentleness that contrasted with his usual military demeanor. The photo was of a younger Müller, standing beside a girl of about twelve. She had a wide smile, full of life and innocence, her dark hair cascading over her shoulders. His daughter, Lina Müller.
Müller sighed, running a thumb over the edge of the frame. "Where are you, Lina?" he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "Your mother and I are worried.""
The weight of the past settled heavily on his shoulders. Lina had disappeared a week ago, under circumstances that are still not been fully explained. The investigation is still on-going, but Müller had never stopped being worried, never stopped hoping for a sign that his daughter was still alive somewhere. Now, with this new mission in the Black Forest, a place so close to where Lina had last been seen, his memories and fears were stirring to its peak once again.
He placed the photo back on the desk with a soft thud, his resolve hardening. Whatever was happening in the forest, he would face it head-on. If there was even the slightest chance that Lina could be involved, or that he could find a clue to her fate, he would not hesitate.
Returning to his desk, Müller pressed the intercom button. "Prepare for a full briefing in one hour. I want all key personnel present," he ordered.
"Jawohl, Herr Oberst," came the prompt reply from the other end.
Müller released the button, his eyes lingering on the map of the Black Forest pinned to the wall. He had a feeling that whatever they were about to uncover in those ancient woods, it would be unlike anything they had ever encountered before.
As the preparations for the deployment began in earnest, Müller sat back down at his desk. The regiment would be ready, of that he was certain. But as he began drafting the operational plans, his thoughts kept drifting back to the photograph, to Lina's smiling face, and to the ever-present question that had haunted him for the past week—where are you, Lina?
Three days. In three days, they would enter the forest, and perhaps, finally, he would find some answers.
---
In the dimly lit underground chamber, the atmosphere was thick with tension, heavier than it had been in centuries. The massive, pulsating organic table at the center of the room breathed with a slow, dark rhythm, its surface glistening as if it were alive. Around it, nine intricately carved chairs, each a grotesque fusion of bone, sinew, and corrupted wood, formed a macabre ring.
Eight of these chairs were occupied by hooded figures, their crimson robes flowing like bloodstains against the gloom. These figures, the "Elders" of the Esoteric Order of the White Worm, were the most powerful and ancient beings in their dark cult. The ninth chair, larger and more menacing than the rest, was the seat of their leader.
This time, however, one of the chairs stood empty, a void that weighed heavily on the gathering.
The Elders murmured among themselves, their voices a sibilant hiss that echoed ominously through the chamber. The recent death of Elder Vegrim had already shaken them, but now the loss of another of their own—Elder Sareth—had driven them to the edge. Their whispers were tinged with fear, anger, and a thirst for vengeance that could barely be contained.
"Elder Sareth is dead," one of the Elders finally hissed, his voice laced with disbelief and fury. "Another of us, fallen in the Black Forest. They dared to strike again!"
"The Foundation is bold, striking us twice," another Elder growled, her voice like the grinding of stones. "They grow bolder with each passing day. This insolence cannot stand."
The murmurs grew louder, each Elder voicing their outrage, their anger palpable. The chamber itself seemed to respond, the walls shuddering slightly as the dark energy within them swirled in response to their fury. But before their anger could escalate further, the leader, seated in the largest chair at the head of the table, raised a hand. His presence, as always, commanded absolute silence.
The Elders immediately fell silent, their attention snapping to the leader as he leaned forward, his face obscured by the shadows of his hood. His voice, when he spoke, was deep and resonant, carrying the weight of centuries and a menace that silenced even the most volatile of the Elders.
"Silence," the leader intoned, his voice echoing through the chamber with an authority that brooked no argument. "Elder Sareth has indeed been killed. The Foundation has claimed another of our own. But they will pay for their transgressions."
A ripple of unease spread through the Elders, the weight of their leader's words sinking in. Elder Vegrim's death had been a shock, but now with the loss of Elder Sareth, the stakes had become clear: this was not a mere skirmish; this was war.
"Elder Sareth was investigating the circumstances surrounding Vegrim's death," the leader continued, his voice cold and calculating. "But the Foundation anticipated our moves. They knew where to strike, and they acted with precision."
"Then we must retaliate!" one of the Elders snarled, his hands gripping the edge of the table, causing the organic surface to shudder. "We cannot allow them to strike us down one by one!"
"Retaliation is inevitable," the leader agreed, his tone dark and ominous. "But it will not be a mere act of vengeance. This will be a decisive blow, one that will crush the Foundation and secure our place in the world once and for all."
The Elders leaned in, their anger now mingling with anticipation. They had been preparing for this for centuries, honing their powers, raising armies of beasts, and amassing dark knowledge that would now be unleashed upon their enemies.
"In three days," the leader announced, his voice echoing with the finality of a death sentence, "we will launch a full-scale assault on the Foundation's stronghold in the forest. All of our forces will be brought to bear. The disciples will be mobilized, the beasts will be unleashed, and the full power of the Esoteric Order of the White Worm will be revealed."
The Elders exchanged glances, their eyes gleaming with anticipation and bloodlust. This was the moment they had been waiting for. The culmination of centuries of planning and preparation.
"We will participate in the battle ourselves," the leader continued, his voice a low growl. "No more hiding in the shadows. No more relying on others to do our bidding. We will lead our forces into the heart of the Foundation's stronghold and tear it apart with our own hands."
The Elders nodded in agreement, their resolve solidifying. They would finally be able to unleash their full power, to show the world what it truly meant to face the wrath of the Esoteric Order of the White Worm.
"Elder Vegrim and Elder Sareth will be avenged," the leader said, his voice filled with dark promise. "And the Foundation will be reduced to ashes. Nothing will be left standing."
The chamber fell silent as the leader's words hung in the air, a dark vow that echoed in the hearts of the Elders. This was no longer just about revenge; it was about survival. The Foundation had proven itself a worthy opponent, but now they would face the full might of the Order.
"Prepare yourselves," the leader commanded, his voice brooking no dissent. "Three days from now, we march to war."
The Elders rose from their seats, their movements deliberate and filled with purpose. As they filed out of the chamber, their crimson robes billowing like bloodstained banners, the leader remained seated, his thoughts already on the battle to come.
As the last of the Elders left the room, the leader turned his gaze to the empty chair that had once belonged to Elder Sareth. His eyes narrowed, the loss of yet another Elder weighing heavily on his mind. But there was no room for doubt or hesitation. The time for subtlety had passed.
As he rose from his chair, the leader's form seemed to grow larger, more imposing, as if the very shadows around him were responding to his will. He turned and left the chamber, his mind focused on the coming battle. The Esoteric Order of the White Worm would march to war, and the world would tremble before their might.
—
Leonard drifted into an uneasy sleep, his mind still buzzing with the day's events. The decision to let Lina see her family, the revelations about SCP-8888-1, and the looming uncertainties weighed heavily on him. His young mind, though sharp beyond his years, was burdened with responsibilities that would crush most adults.
But as his consciousness faded, he found himself pulled into a vivid dream, far more intense than anything he had experienced before.
---
The world around him was engulfed in flames. He stood in the middle of a forest, the familiar trees of the Black Forest now twisted and blackened by fire. The heat was suffocating, the air thick with smoke and the stench of burning wood and flesh. All around him, the sounds of battle echoed—clashing steel, the roar of monstrous creatures, and the desperate cries of those locked in combat.
Leonard turned in a slow circle, his eyes wide with shock and recognition. Bodies littered the ground, both human and… other. Cultists, foundation operatives, and countless other entities he couldn't identify lay strewn across the forest floor, their blood soaking into the charred earth. This was a battlefield, and it was clear that the war had been long and brutal.
As he tried to make sense of the chaos, his eyes were drawn to a figure standing at the heart of the inferno. The man was tall, cloaked in a black robe that seemed untouched by the flames licking at his feet. His face was obscured by shadows, but Leonard knew, instinctively, who it was.
"SCP-990," Leonard whispered, his voice trembling. It was the same man from his previous dream, the one who had warned him before. The one who seemed to know more than anyone should.
The figure turned to face him, and despite the distance between them, Leonard felt the man's gaze pierce through him, cold and unforgiving. The flames around them seemed to intensify, casting long, flickering shadows across the battlefield.
"You are too late," SCP-990's voice boomed, echoing through the forest like a thunderclap. "The war is coming, and you are not prepared."
Leonard took a step back, his heart pounding in his chest. "What do you mean? What war? When?"
SCP-990 did not answer immediately. Instead, he raised one hand, and with a slow, deliberate motion, he pointed to something in the distance. Leonard followed the gesture and saw, through the smoke and flames, a large, blood-stained calendar hanging from a burnt tree. The dates were barely legible, but one stood out, circled in red.
Three days from now.
"That is when it begins," SCP-990 said, his voice low and ominous. "In three days, the Black Forest will be plunged into chaos. You must be ready."
Leonard's mind raced. Three days. That was all the time they had to prepare. He tried to think, to form a plan, but the overwhelming sense of dread clouded his thoughts. "How do we stop it? How do we fight something like this?"
SCP-990's expression did not change, but there was a hint of pity in his voice as he replied, "This war cannot be stopped. It can only be survived. Those who are unprepared will perish. You must use the time you have left wisely, Administrator. Rally your forces, gather your allies, and prepare for the worst. But know this—no matter what you do, the war will come. And when it does, you will be tested like never before."
Leonard tried to respond, to ask more questions, but the dream began to shift. The flames grew higher, the heat more intense, until it was unbearable. He could feel his skin blistering, the smoke choking his lungs. And then, with a final, searing flash of light, everything went dark.
---
Leonard awoke with a start, his body drenched in cold sweat. His chest heaved as he sucked in deep, desperate breaths. The remnants of the dream still clung to him, the smell of smoke and burning flesh lingering in his nostrils.
He sat up in bed, his hands trembling as he wiped the sweat from his brow. The memory of SCP-990's warning was fresh in his mind, and the image of the circled date on the calendar burned into his thoughts. There was no time to waste.
Reaching over to his bedside table, Leonard grabbed his phone with unsteady hands. He fumbled with the screen for a moment before finding the contact he needed. He pressed the call button and held the phone to his ear, his heart still racing.
It rang twice before a voice on the other end answered, calm and composed despite the late hour. "This is O5-4."
Leonard swallowed hard, trying to steady his voice. "It's the Administrator. I… I need your help."
There was a brief pause before O5-4 replied, their tone serious. "What's happened?"
Leonard took a deep breath, forcing himself to focus. "I had a dream—a vision. SCP-990. He warned me that a war is coming. And it's going to happen in three days."
The line was silent for a moment as O5-4 processed this information. Then, their voice came through, sharper and more urgent than before. "Are you certain?"
"Yes," Leonard replied, his voice firm despite the fear gnawing at him. "He showed me a date. We don't have much time."
"Understood," O5-4 said, their tone all business now. "We'll need to mobilize immediately. I'll contact some Friends of mine and initiate Protocol Warbringer. We'll have to prepare for the worst-case scenario."
Leonard nodded, even though O5-4 couldn't see him. "I'll do what I can here. I've already started making arrangements, but I'll need your support. We can't afford to take any chances."
"You have it," O5-4 assured him. "I'll coordinate with the Site Directors and ensure that all Foundation assets are on high alert. We'll also need to bring in external allies—this is bigger than just us."
Leonard felt a small measure of relief at those words. The Foundation was vast and powerful, but even they would need help to face what was coming. "Thank you. I'll keep you updated on any developments."
"Do that," O5-4 replied. "And boss be careful. SCP-990's warnings have never been wrong. If he says a war is coming, then it's already too late to stop it. All we can do now is prepare."
The call ended, and Leonard sat there for a moment, the phone still in his hand. The room was dark and silent, but his mind was anything but. He knew that the next few days would be crucial, and there was no room for error.
He stood up, his body still trembling slightly, and walked over to the window. The night outside was calm, the stars twinkling in the clear sky. It was hard to believe that in just three days, this region could be plunged into chaos. But he had no choice but to believe it. He had seen the truth in SCP-990's eyes.
As he stared out into the night, Leonard made a silent vow. He would do everything in his power to protect the Foundation, his people, and the world from the coming storm. He didn't know what the future held, but he knew one thing for certain.
The war was coming. And he would be ready.