Running through the hardened sand, the messenger did not slow down, even as the echoes of heavy artillery fired off in the background, followed by the unending sound of gunfire in the distance.

He neared the defences, set up with multiple lines in case one was overrun. None were dug down, for the sand did not allow it. Instead, sandbags piled on top of sandbags gave the soldiers some measure of cover from the incoming rebels.

Though it did nothing against the tanks.

He spotted the last line of defence, or the first from his perspective, that being the line of artillery in the middle of reloading shells, and the command tents. Seeing the tents, he beelined for it, increasing his speed.

Closer, he spotted several makeshift tables set up haphazardly, screens showing holographic images overlayed atop the ever-shifting sands. People stood, arguing back and forth, screaming at one another, pointing and cursing. One table in particular was the loudest, though only one person screamed. Nay, he barked orders as he directed the flow of battle.

The commander.

The messenger ran at full speed, knowing that what he knew was of vital importance. Especially when information could only be given by word of mouth.

Closer, he sped past two tables before screeching to a halt just on the opposite side of the commander. Two guards stepped up, pointing rifles at him, ignored as he stared up at the commander, panting heavily.

“What now?”

The commander spoke in a defeated voice, both hands firmly placed on the table as he leaned forward in a tired posture. A deafening explosion rang behind, and the messenger jumped in unsuspected freight as he turned around, seeing that the explosion was from their own artillery firing.

“Speak, or I’ll have your head for wasting my time.”

Immediately standing tall, the messenger spoke up in a panting manner.

“S-sorry sir! I-I have – important, information.”

Breathing out heavily, he collected his breath and spoke up louder.

“We’ve just been informed that reinforcements are inbound.”

Standing a little taller, a breath of relief escaped the commander’s lips before he could quell it. To hide the fact that he sighed, he immediately spoke up with an ill-hidden smile on his face.

“That’s excellent news! Do we know who’s coming?”

“The Valkyries, sir!”

“That’s even better! How many?”

“One ship!”

“ONE?!”

The commander screamed in outrage, face of relief morphed into one of disbelieving rage, not even trying to hide it. Blinking at the sight, the messenger opened his mouth to speak, but the barrage of another volley from the artillery interrupted him, spooking him something fierce.

As the lull of the explosion rolled over them, the commander spoke up before the messenger, shoulders slumped as he leaned forward, asking those around the table.

“Shit- Where’s the reinforcements most badly needed?”

As one, the table full of men shouted over one another, screaming that their section needed the support most. Screaming so furiously, so without decorum, so without a shred of nobility that the messenger could do naught but stare on in disbelief, in slight horror. For he knew that to make men act like this, act like instinctual animals, he knew their situation must be desperate. So desperate, in fact, that even with one ship of their most elite soldiers, the Valkyries, it would not be enough to salvage the situation. Something that brought a lump in the messenger’s throat.

While the men around the table continued shouting, with arguments against arguments. A new messenger appeared, standing in salute before shouting out louder than everyone.

“Section five is folding. The enemy is pushing in and about to overrun our position.”

The commander turned to the saluting newcomer, pointing and shouting.

“Then tell your men to hold their position and, if need be, die for their emperor. We don’t have anyone to spare.”

The messenger looked shocked, opening his mouth and speaking in an almost whisper.

“But-“

“Do I need to repeat myself?”

The commander screamed before the messenger could ask, staring with eyes that dared the messenger to question his orders. The messenger didn’t, instead, the messenger saluted and shouted.

“For the emperor!”

Before running away, leaving the table for the commander to give out his new orders as he pointed a finger at the representative for the artillery team.

“We can’t afford to fall back yet, so I need you to shift your fire towards section five and fire four rounds before resuming sustained fire on the enemy lines. Order effective in-“ The commander said before rolling up his sleeve, looking down on an ancient wristwatch, worth a fortune. “-in five minutes.”

The table turned a shade of pale, the representative for the artillery team looking most shocked. But quickly composed themselves before saluting and confirming the orders. The commander nodded back, looking over at the rest of the people around the table, focusing in on two individuals, representatives for section four and six.

“When our artillery has devastated section five’s line, I want section four and six to plug the gap. Use whatever you can find as cover, but you will not let the enemy pass. Not yet.”

The representative for section four leaned forward on the table, eyes wide as he shouted.

“But commander, we do not have the manpower to defend our lines. How are we supposed to spare anyone to plug the fifth’s?”

And just as he finished, the sixths representative spoke out equally loud, more composed but with a tinge of fear in his voice.

“And our line is incredibly dug in as they are sustaining heavy fire from the enemy’s artillery. If we order them to move, there’s a risk they won’t even make it.”

The messenger stared at the table in disbelief. The ground shook from another volley from the artillery, this one not scaring the messenger. Disbelief from how utterly hopeless their situation was. Being a volunteer for this mission, how he wished he hadn’t. The thrill of going planetside did not outweigh being killed.

The commander seemed to take a moment to consider the two representatives’ words, mulling them over in his head as he leaned heavily onto the table. A breath, shallow yet long. The commander looked up, eyes steeled as he spoke with an edge to his voice.

“I cannot help it. I’ve issued the orders and you will follow them to the letter.”

The two representatives each took a step back, horror clear on their faces, shameful but expected. The fourth line representative blinked twice before his expression morphed into one of acceptance, saluting as he shouted.

“Glory to the emperor!”

Maybe for the last time, the messenger felt himself think. He glanced at the sixth representative, seeing him standing still, frozen, looking petrified. Disgraceful.

“Commander, there is no guarantee that I’ll- I’ll make it to my line. Why don’t we open up communication for a second and just, send the sixth a message?”

Spoken unsurely, sweat forming on his pale lips, eyes wide and bloodshot. Speaking words of cowardice, making the whole table freeze while the words were uttered.

But none froze as much as the commander. Eyes turning to ice as he muttered instead of shouted, even more terrifying.

“You- fucking- coward. I’d have you shot if we didn’t lack captains. But as it is, I’ll have to let you live and repent your cowardice.”

Slamming a fist down on the table, spittle flew out as the commander screamed.

“I will not risk the rebels getting a snapshot of our exact position and knowing just how fucked we really are. You will get this message to the sixth line, and you will join them in the defence of the fifth line even if you have to get blown to pieces and crawl the rest of the way. Do I make myself clear, you fucking coward?!”

The sixth representative visibly shrunk, but stood straight as he shouted back.

“Yes, commander!”

“Then go! If I don’t get word that the sixth is ready to close the gap for the fifth, I will consider you dead.”

The sixth representative gulped, then saluted and shouted.

“Glory to the emperor!”

The commander waved him away as he focused back on the table, swiping with his hand, shifting around holographic images, removing one, stretching two others. He sighed, then looked up.

“Have we found out how the rebels are seemingly instantaneously contacting one another?”

The table remained quiet, looking around at each other to search for an answer, an answer not to come. The commander sighed, rubbing at his forehead as he pondered a problem that had no end in sight. A shouting voice brought his musings to an end. Looking up, he spotted yet another messenger. Nay, a normal soldier from the logistics company. Why he was here could not be good.

“C-c-commander!”

The running soldier shouted, pointing backwards as he stumbled his way towards the table. The commander stood tall, waiting impatiently for whatever was to come.

“O-our reinforcements! They are here!”

Shouted not in excitement, but in an odd mix of reverence and, fear? The soldier came to a stop, still pointing fervently backwards. Following his pointing, the group at the table could just barely make out the shape of what appeared to be a group of men running towards them. A few dozen at best, not much, not enough to get such a powerful reaction from the new messenger.

The commander spoke, stopped as something started whirring from above. Sounding like the whistle of an artillery shell inbound.

Immediately, the table of men realized and shouted out in unison.

“Incoming!”

Before each man respectively jumping down. The commander pushed down by the two guards, all ready to die. The messenger last to dive for cover.

Impact, a plume of sand washed over the lying people, eyes closed as they waited for a fiery death. A fiery death that was not to come, as there was no fire. The messenger was the first to glance up, hesitantly as he gently pushed himself prone. Couching lightly, he looked, then stared.

He stared, for he stared at the black silhouette of a Varangian. And not any Varangian, but hel’s chosen.

Standing tall, clad in fully black armour with an emblem of purple on the chest. He knew it was hel’s chosen, for he’d seen him in pictures, in videos and galleries before. The messenger stared slack jawed, for he stared at a living legend, standing tall and looking around as if he wasn’t.

The messenger stared as hel’s chosen orientated, stared as hel’s chosen took a step towards the table and looked down on the holographic, stared as hel’s chosen just simply started, walking away. As if what he’d done was nothing out of the ordinary.

In a moment of clarity, the messenger realized where he was and looked around. Spotting the rest of the people round the table in a similar state of daze, staring at hel’s chosen as he walked away.

Realising that something was going to happen, something historic, the messenger chose in a moment of astute clarity, clarity he’d only ever felt once before on drugs. He chose to follow hel’s chosen, for no logical reason.

Hel’s chosen walked toward the fifth’s line, holding a rifle that must have been the size of the messenger’s torso, holding it as if it weighed nothing. The messenger heard pounding footsteps behind him. Glancing back, he spotted a group of Valkyries running towards him, towards hel’s chosen.

As they came even closer, he realized they were running in pairs, each pair carrying what appeared to be a large artillery shell each. Turning their run into a fast walk in a respective distance behind hel’s chosen, following behind.

The messenger walked amongst the Valkyries, clad in armour that resembled the Varangian but seemed, lesser in some aspect. He glanced right and left, spotting more soldiers, soldiers seemingly aimlessly drifting about, more soldiers that spotted hel’s chosen and his followers. More soldiers that, for reasons the messenger understood, also decided to follow.

A dozen men turned into a hundred. And soon after, they came upon the first signs of combat.

A hospital.

Wounded and dying lying in droves, spread around on the sand as there weren’t enough beds for everyone. Screaming and groaning, people in different states of decay, of wounds. An atmosphere heavy with the smell of death.

A hospital that turned deathly silent as hel’s chosen walked past. Eyes staring in disbelief, in confusion. Doctors and wounded turning in unison, staring at hel’s chosen as he walked with determined steps towards a battle that had caused so much suffering.

Silence broken as a few of those too wounded to move dared to speak. They spoke softly. Softly turning louder as more joined in. More and more, as those that could not walk spoke instead. Speaking two words that held more than just reverence.

“Hel’s chosen”

They said like a prayer. And then he passed without a single turn of his head. Walking towards were the sound of gunfire rang the loudest, where the plumes of sand were scattered the farthest and were iron and blood were mixed the most.

Suddenly, hel’s chosen started running, followed closely by the Valkyries and then the rest of those that chose to follow. None could keep up with hel’s chosen, running at such a speed that it felt like it should be impossible. The Valkyries, even with their elite training, could not catch up, though the reason was obvious as they each held a weight heavier than one man, and they weren’t Varangians.

The messenger was an athletic man, trained for long hours to keep a fast pace for a long time. But even he, found his breath uneven as he ran at full speed, doing his best to catch up.

Soon, the sound of gunfire grew loud. And soon after that, gunfire grew visible as a line of men behind sandbags appeared. Beyond them, there was a great plume of sand, rock formations and what he could only describe as a mass of dark.

As they came closer, the dark mass gained details, and the messenger realized he was staring at a wall. A wall that grew closer.

A shot whizzed over his head. He ducked down and immediately covered his head. More shots came, spread out and above, but enough that he dared not stand back up. But he dared look, looking up and seeing how the Valkyries braved the storm, running at full tilt even as the bullets whizzed past.

And then he saw him.

Hel’s chosen, atop a large pile of sandbags, firing single bullets at a speed that it could fool one to think he was firing fully automatic. He could not see what devastation hel’s chosen caused, but could imagine.

Courage suddenly flooded him. Even as the bullets continued flying past, he did not feel fear.

Standing up slowly, the messenger moved forwards. Forwards at speed, feeling his heart racing. Each whiz of a bullet made his heart skip a beat. But each miss flooded him with something he hadn’t ever felt before.

He ran, ran past the few brave soldiers that dared the bullets. Then past the Valkyries, as they couldn’t run as fast.

And with each step, the messenger felt more and more invincible.

Then suddenly, as the bullets flew impossible many above him, he slammed into the sandbags.

Soldiers beside him staring up. He did too, covered behind the sandbags, bullets flying past in streams of fire and flame.

The Valkyries came after, hiding behind cover but staying more focused on the task at hand. Immediately, they dropped their loads and pulled out their rifles, firing at the rebels and goading the other’s soldiers to once more take up arms and fire. Firing away with a fervor that felt impossible to lose.

But the messenger didn’t fire. Nay. Instead, he pulled out a camera, pointing it at hel’s chosen as he started recording.

Recorded something that felt like a dream, conjured by propaganda rather than a reality of war.

For as he recorded, hel’s chosen walked back to the Valkyries, picked up an artillery shell and held it as if holding a big rock. Then he took a stance and did what no man should be capable of.

He threw it.

And it flew.

It did not fly far, but it did not have to, for the rebels were near.

And as it impacted the ground exactly where the rebels were marching, hel’s chosen fired a round, and the world turned into a ball of fire and flame.

The bullets flying past, seized to exist, swallowed by the burning inferno. Soldiers and Valkyries alike shouted out in glory, shouting out the name of hel’s chosen as he stood in profile to the flames.

And the messenger realized he was standing in the presence of a god.