Infinite Clones: Conquering Dimensions

The sound of bullets. The iron stench of blood. The painful screams. The inhuman growls.

Kael had grown accustomed to all of it over the years, over his life in the trenches.

"Hey, Kael." Amidst the chaos, a desperate voice cut through the noise. "Do you have any ammo left?" 

A massive, muscular man crouched nearby, his bulletproof vest two sizes too small for his broad shoulders, like a grown man trying to squeeze into a child's clothes. The rifle in his hands looking more like a toy than a lethal weapon.

Kael didn't bother remembering his name. It was not necessary. They would all die in these trenches anyway, holding the line as long as they could, buying time for reinforcements. Holding back the grotesque, green-skinned monsters that poured from the dungeon's gaping gates, scrambling over each other in their frenzy to reach the city beyond.

"Sorry, just used the last of it," Kael said, tapping his automatic rifle twice in a wordless gesture of doom.

"Damn." The man cursed under his breath, sliding down against the concrete wall of the trench, until he was sitting beside Kael. His eyes were hollow, staring at nothing, like a man who was trying to make peace with death.

"I did not think I would die like this," he muttered. "My father pulled some strings to get me stationed here. This place was supposed to be safe. No dungeon outbreaks in a century. And yet… seems like God wants us all dead."

As he grumbled the inhuman growls grew closer, and the sound of gunfire became even louder. The goblins had already crossed at least one or two trenches, and now they were closing in on the fourth one, theirs. 

"Fuck, I wish I had awakened like my brothers and sisters. Then these goblins would be nothing more than meat in front of me. I would kill all of them, every last one." The muscular man shouted, slamming his rifle against his forehead in frustration, as if trying to beat the bad luck out of himself. "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! I do not want to die like this!" 

Kael watched him in silence, offering no words of comfort. What was the point? Instead, he closed his eyes, gripping his gun tighter, trying to steady his wild heart, which threatened to pound its way out of his throat.

The noises were getting closer, too close. More screams of dying soldiers filled the air, echoing from the trenches nearer to the dungeon gates.

Kael tried to focus, tried to listen, determine exactly where the enemy was breaching, but the oversized crying man beside him would not stop, repeating the same word over and over. 

"Fuck."

"Fuck."

"Fuck."

Kael's patience snapped.

"If you do not fucking stop crying right now, I will end you myself."

His rifle flashed, the muzzle stopping just shy of the man's temple. The iron was still hot. Mantis could feel it.

He swallowed hard, his breath hitching in his throat. He did not dare to look at Kael in the eyes, too afraid of what he might see in those golden-amber irises. Instead, his gaze flickered to the black steel of the rifle, inches from his skull.

"I-I'll stop! I-I'll stop!" he stammered, his voice shaking.

"Good.". 

Kael lowered the gun and inhaled deeply, ears finally able to process the battlefield's chaos with clarity. Those beasts would be on them within three to five minutes, maybe less, depending on how long the others could hold out.

"What's your name again?" Kael asked, exhaling as he scratched his forehead, then ran a hand through his sweat-drenched black hair.

"M-Mantis," the man muttered, still unable to meet Kael's gaze. The screams of the dying were still haunting him, but in that moment, he feared the cold-blooded soldier beside him even more. 

Kael nodded. "Mantis, did you pass Close Combat Training?"

The towering man swallowed again and nodded silently, fingers tightening around his rifle.

Kael's tone was calm now, collected. Controlled. "The goblins are smaller than you. That means it'll be easier to crush their skulls. They will aim for your legs, so kick them and do not let them surround you. Also… as you learned from the instructors, keep their teeth away from you." 

Before Mantis could respond, Kael suddenly lifted his rifle and fired. At the same moment, a guttural shriek echoed through the trench. A small creature crumpled to the ground near his feet, gnarled green skin, jagged teeth, and long ears. A goblin. 

"Ahhh!" Mantis screamed, scrambling backward, his fear overriding reason. He shoved past the other soldiers in a desperate attempt to flee. 

Kael rose to his feet and shook his head. "Idiot." 

Running was the worst choice here, especially in a cramped trench packed with other soldiers. Goblins would flood this place any second. The only option was to hold the line. Face them head-on. If they stayed put, they could not be surrounded. Sure, a few might leap down from above, but those would be disoriented upon landing, easy kills. 

Kael exhaled, tightening his grip on his rifle.

Here they come.

The sunlight made it hard to see, but he didn't need to. Years of war had sharpened his instincts. He could hear them, the pitter-patter of inhuman feet, claws scraping against the concrete, the hissing growls of the hungry. 

He counted to three in his head. One. Two. Three. 

The moment shadows blocked the light, Kael pulled the trigger.

A rapid burst of gunfire. Five goblins dropped like sacks of meat, their bodies collapsing at his feet.

Screams erupted all around him, human screams.

The trenches became a hellish symphony of gunfire, desperate cries, and the deafening roars of the enemy. Kael did not stop. His rifle rattled on, round after round tearing through goblin flesh. The pile of bodies beside him rose until it nearly reached the trench wall. But the monsters kept coming. 

He turned, providing cover fire for the soldiers closest to him, until his magazine ran dry.

Click. No more ammo.

No hesitation. He dropped the rifle and unsheathed the black combat knife strapped to his thigh. The goblins were closing in, too many, too fast. Falling like drops of rain.

Kael's eyes darted around, assessing the terrain. Trapped. No room to move. The dead bodies of the goblins had already formed walls around him. If this turned into a a dire situation, he would be overwhelmed. 

"Well… not like I am really dying today," he muttered.

He kicked the corpse pile to his left, sending it tumbling.

A brief gap opened, revealing dozens, no, hundreds of goblins. Soldiers fought desperately around him, slashing and firing, but they were being drowned in green flesh. It was impossible for normal men to survive this.

The goblins also turned their heads, spotting him and letting out the same guttural scream.

Kael moved.

He kicked the nearest goblin hard in the chest, sending it crashing into its kin, disrupting their advance. His blade flashed, piercing an eye socket, straight to the brain. A clean kill. Efficient. Fast. A technique taught by the instructors of Close Combat.

Another lunged. Kael sidestepped, slashed. A spray of blackened blood painted the trench wall. He kept moving forward, carving a bloody path. Kicks, slashes, knife thrusts to the throat and eyes. No wasted movement. But there were too many. Far too many. 

He stumbled upon a fallen soldier. His hands flashed towards the man's rifle. Loaded.

Kael raised the weapon, exhaling sharply. Another wave was coming.

"That's why I hate goblin dungeon outbreaks." - He grumbled, raising the rifle towards his enemies.

The gunfire resumed, but it didn't take long for the gun to also run dry. No more ammo. At that moment, a goblin leaped. Out of reflexes, Kael threw the rifle at its face and stabbed another in the throat, getting ready to welcome another one.

Ten minutes. Twenty. Thirty. 

Kael's body was breaking down. His muscles ached, his arms felt like dead weight, and his grip on the knife was slipping. He could barely lift it now, let alone swing it with precision. His shoulders throbbed from deep bite wounds, the price of goblins dropping from above and sinking their filthy teeth into his flesh.

He didn't even know how many he had killed anymore. Dozens? Hundreds? It didn't matter. Some had probably broken through to the next trenches. And even more were still coming. 

"What are you looking? Want another bite?" Kael screamed towards the goblins that had already surrounded him. A bloody smile on his lips "Come on! I still have enough breath to kill all of you."

-x-

Somewhere in the New Continent of Europe, a young man in his early twenties moved with quiet confidence, his golden-amber eyes sharp beneath messy black hair. A scarf rested loosely around his neck, his open brown jacket shifting with each step. Worn leather gloves covered his hands, a faded bracelet lay hidden beneath his sleeve, and a concealed necklace swayed against his chest. 

He looked like a wanderer, a traveler of life, drifting from place to place, seeking to see the world with his own eyes. This time, his journey had led him here: to a towering stone structure, one that had once been a marvel of the old world. 

The Great Pyramid of Giza. 

Once, it had been a world-famous wonder, visited by countless tourists. Now, its legacy stood in ruins. Of the three pyramids that once dominated the desert skyline, only half of one remained, a witness of time.

"They say there were three of them once," the young man muttered, his gaze lingering on the broken monument. "Now, only this remains… after the dungeon outbreak." 

His fingers brushed against the faded bracelet beneath his sleeve. A habit. "They also say some of the tunnels are still intact." His golden eyes gleamed with interest. He needed to see them.

He took a step forward.

And then, pain.

A deafening scream tore through his throat. His body collapsed before he even understood what was happening.

Kael felt as if his flesh were being ripped away, slowly being eaten and ripped by sharp teeth that carved their ways through his bones.

The world blurred. Distant voices. Footsteps rushing toward him.

"Young man! Young man!"

"Call an ambulance!"

"He's burning! Get water, quick!"

Kael couldn't hear them. Because at that moment, he was somewhere else. A trench. A battlefield. A massacre.

Screams tore through his mind, his screams.