Amidst the tides of war, the Reich calls for a savior. Someone who will return the Empire to its former glory. Someone who will save Baronia.

Today I realized: I am not that someone.

A land built upon hate will never be saved. Our sins have come to reap the souls of those responsible for this nightmare. We are bound to pay the price. The angels of Revelation have come for us.

I stood on a barren field, the sky above me swirling in shades of red and black. The earth trembled under my boots as ghostly figures rose from the ground—men, women, children—all with hollow eyes that pierced my soul. They whispered my name. Hans... Hans... Their voices grew louder until it became a deafening roar.

"Hans, wake up."

"Huh?"

"You were talking in your sleep again, for the tenth time," Peter's voice cut through the haze.

I blinked and sat up, still caught between the dream and reality. The dim barracks offered no comfort—the thin slats of my bunk bit into my back, and the air was heavy with sweat and damp wood.

"I'm sorry. I seem to get the same dream over and over again. What time is it?"

"0600. Breakfast is in 30 minutes."

"Oh shoot! We have to hurry, or Jungenführer von Hilten will shout at us again!"

This is the life we are subjected to—our duty, as they call it. The next generation of the Reich, molded to perfection. Schedules we dare not question. Protocols that leave no room for error. At first, I didn't think much of it, but it's exhausting. The same food, the same clothes, the same strange rules. But as long as the Secret Police leaves my family alone, I can endure it.

"Hans Bergmann! Is there shit on my face? Answer me, you impotent swine!"

I froze mid-step as Jungenführer von Hilten loomed over me, his sharp features twisted into a sneer.

"No, Jungenführer! I just—"

"That's it! Get your asses in the kitchen now! You're on kitchen duty today! Oh yeah, take Puny Peter with you!"

"Sir, yes, sir!"

Peter gave me a sidelong glance as we marched toward the kitchens. "Why were you staring?"

"I wasn't," I muttered. "I zoned out. I'm sorry."

"Ah, whatever. Let's get it done."

Peter Haber—the only person in this place who doesn't make me feel like dirt. I met him on the first day I was transported here. He's reliable, someone you can trust. But sometimes, his mouth gets ahead of his brain.

We scrubbed the oversized pots in silence, the smell of burnt beans clinging to the air. I didn't understand why, but no matter what I do, I always get kitchen duty. Maybe it's Von Hilten's way of reminding me of my "place." He's probably laughing to himself right now, smug and satisfied. Did he get good news from high command?

"You really have to stop zoning out, Hans," Peter said, scrubbing harder than necessary. "You know why Herr Manfred is always riding you? It's your impotence!"

"Don't be like that, Peter. I didn't do anything wrong."

"Yeah, yeah, sure." Peter sighed and leaned against the counter, flicking a stray bean off his sleeve. "Just try not to make him angrier next time. He's one bad report away from shipping you off somewhere worse."

Worse. The word hung in the air, unspoken yet heavy. We all knew what "worse" meant—those who disappeared in the middle of the night or were sent to the frontlines before they were ready.

"Alright, we're done. Send them in!"

The cafeteria filled quickly as boys in gray uniforms shuffled in, their faces pale and tired. The din of clinking utensils and murmured conversations filled the room.

I watched them eat as Peter and I served the last bowls of beans. Some tried to hide their fear, others their defiance, but it was always there, just beneath the surface. No one here was truly loyal to the Reich. We were all just surviving.

Peter nudged me with his elbow. "Hey, look at that guy."

Across the room, Jungenführer von Hilten stood with his arms crossed, a smug grin plastered across his face.

"I hate that look," Peter whispered.

"Me too," I muttered.

We were almost finished serving when the loudspeaker crackled to life.

"Attention! The Wilmenians from the West have crossed Lake Caden Fortress! The Forced Conscription Act is now in effect. All able-bodied individuals are to report to the nearest barracks immediately!"

The room fell silent. Spoons paused mid-air, conversations stopped mid-sentence. The crackle of the loudspeaker lingered in the air, a grim punctuation to the announcement.

Peter's hand tightened around the edge of the counter. "This is it, isn't it? They're coming for us."

I wanted to speak, but my throat felt dry. The words from my dream came back to me: The angels of Revelation have come for us.

Von Hilten's voice shattered the silence. "You heard the announcement! Finish your food and line up outside. Anyone not ready in ten minutes will be considered a deserter!"

The boys scrambled to obey, their fear palpable. I looked at Peter, whose face was pale but determined.

"What do we do?" he whispered.

I didn't have an answer. All I could do was look out the window, where the sky was already darkening with the smoke of distant battles.