Night 12, Fort Gakenomisaki

The past two days have been very hectic for everyone. I’m unsure where to start narrating what happened, but I think that event yesterday would be a good point to begin with.

Immediately after we recuperated from the visions our long-eared native friends had imposed on us, the majority of us on site, including me, were taken in for questioning. I remember the good sergeant with whom I was left alone in a room during the questioning. He was also there when the visions occurred, and him not taking it well was the understatement of the... day? I don’t know; things have been pretty much baffling and surprising left and right for the past two weeks. He was supposed to be the one questioning me about what I’d seen, but he was more distraught about it than I was. The sight of alien, almost unrecognizable, bloodied-from-head-to-toe monsters of all sorts of hideous descriptions was more than too much for many of us. The long-eared natives who showed us the visions were almost killed by some of the more distraught men armed with nothing but their sharp bayonets and pale eyes had it not been for the intervention of our commanders.

As for our commanders, they were equally horrified as the rest of us, but they recovered faster than we did–probably because they were the first to ponder if our lead bullets and high explosive shells could do something against them. Maybe I’m wrong, but I think that was the actual thought process, for what followed lent credibility to my assumptions.

After the so-called ‘questioning’, they recruited some iron-stomached artists from us and the civilians to draw what we’ve described for dissemination among the troops. The reception was–suffice to say–just as one would expect. The soldiery could be roughly split into two groups based on their reaction: one half was skeptical and believed it not while the other wanted to opt out of this entire “divine mission” shindig. Before we could get down to our work (or in others’ cases, trying to find a way to skip to the afterlife), our commanders announced that they were forming a regiment to go west and fulfill our divine mandate of “driving away the evil.” This was on top of them sending a battalion and a couple of hundred settlers down south to establish a mining settlement to get more coal and oil (and perhaps some minerals and ore).

Back at our bunks, the other four were part of the skeptical group. Matsuoka and Aso, the more level-headed ones, were hopeful that good old bullets and explosives could wipe them out. Kunieda was scared, but he believed in the divine mandate we’ve been given. As for Kanda, well, he wasn’t at all bothered–I mean, can you blame him? He got eaten by a crocodile for crying out loud. This just leaves me–the only one who’s actually seen the visions. I could still hear the helpless woes of the ones about to be eaten; the head-crushing force exerted by the claw that gripped the face of the person I saw the vision through. It was, if anything, hell on earth... or this world? It really made me wonder if our all-powerful boom sticks could make short work of them.

Unfortunately for me, it turns out I’ll be answering that question. Not long after we finished our short dinner, we were approached by an officer. According to him, our company would be part of the regiment that’ll be sent west. Sure enough, the more eager of us to get our hands on a rifle again and start blasting out demons were up in celebration; everybody wanted to finally do something meaningful besides hauling lumber and stone and digging trenches. I’d be lying if I wasn’t the least bit excited about finally getting some action myself. To be honest, I’ve already forgotten what it feels like to fire a gun; back in China, we’ve gone through perhaps months without any of us firing a single shot from our rifles.

“Finally. We’re going to hear some poppin’.”

“I can’t wait! I’ve missed me some gunfire!”

Our company received the news extremely well, unlike me, the resident soiled muppet. I must have been the only one in our company (heck, probably even in our battalion!) who's seen the visions from the natives. Sure, I’m confident in our firepower, but I will never be able to shake off the feeling of fear and dread from what I’ve witnessed. Perhaps it won’t be long until everyone else gets their own taste of what it’s like to go against these things. I myself don’t want to be face to face with the bloodied monstrosities I’ve seen.

Whatever, I guess. Everyone wants their hands on some boomsticks. The celebratory mood continued into the night; we were going to set out tomorrow.

Night 13, southwest of Camp Edogawa

I am now writing this entry from my bunk at our camp a dozen or so kilometers southwest of Camp Edogawa and the native fishing settlement. It’s been wholly uneventful this past day, so I’ll take the liberty to describe the men at arms that have been sent on this journey of ‘divine punishment upon the wretched spawns of evil.’

Our regiment, which we all but comically agreed on calling the Demon Slayer Regiment, was your typical Imperial Army regiment at around 4,000 men strong. Fittingly (perhaps our commanders have a sense of humor... or not), our commanding officer was a grouchy colonel by the name of Onizuka (lit. mound of demons), whom we cannot stop mocking for the coincidence in his name. Directly under his command were three infantry battalions (each nearly around 1,100 men), a signal company for communications, the regimental gun company for indirect 75mm fire support, and an anti-tank company. Me and my four comrades were part of a rifle company underneath the first battalion. As for our logistics, due to our precarious supply problem, we couldn’t rely on trucks and vehicles, so we enlisted the help of natives to lend us enough pack animals for our supplies in addition to the horses we brought with us. As for our air power, apparently, none of the flyboys from the Army Air Service came with us to this world, and with the Navy being stingy about providing us with even a single plane, we’re setting out without any air units.

As part of an agreement with the natives, they attached with the headquarters a group of guides that were apparently some of their best “mages”–long-eared sorcerors that can cast spells that do all sorts of magic. How helpful they’ll be in combat remains to be seen, but native guides to help us traverse a land we had no maps of and to speak to native peoples on our behalf should be helpful.

After forming up on the marching grounds–formerly forested lands–of Fort Gakenomisaki, the Demon Slayer Regiment set out on its march west. Within the hour, we passed by the small, makeshift port at Camp Edogawa, where we saw the third supply ship beached on the beaches of the massive cove being cut up for steel and other precious metals. Going around this cove and crossing the river that fed into it, our column then came across a fork on the road on which we took the direction that led deeper into the continent of Morigashima.

Perhaps this is one of the more cathartic parts of this post-life life: the amazing scenery we’re treated to during the lulls in between the mundane and exciting events. Marching through the dirt road that ran through the open countryside of this pseudo-Earth, the endless rolling plains, the raw smell of green grasses, the endless chirping of possibly cicadas(?), and the great expanse of blue up above untainted by the foul stench of industrialized smoke–perhaps we were too generic in calling this land ‘Morigashima’ (lit. island of forests). This boring march into the interior was a blessing in and of itself, so much so that I almost started to forget the aching blisters on my foot from the kilometers of walking. I’d take this drug, especially if it meant forgetting the fact that at the end of this march, we’re gonna have to dig more trenches.

One of the long-eared native guides that came with us, an elderly granny-like figure by the name of Tagwen, was the one who suggested we set up camp on a slight hill that was rising above the plain. Upon further inspection, we found a small stream flowing on the other side of this hill–a good source of freshwater. Already we were seeing the merit of bringing along natives with us. And so our march was cut short–it was perhaps just past noon based on the sun’s position–and we were unleashed to start work on the camp. Unsurprisingly, our company went to work on the outer trenches (when will it ever end?), with my section being tasked with digging up the trench closest to the stream. From what we’ve heard, the natives wanted to be able to reach a pass on which they have a fortress of sorts, but given our pace, the earliest we could reach the pass was by tomorrow, so they reasoned that it was best to just set up camp for the rest of the day.

After hours of back-breaking, blister-popping work, we managed to set up camp just before twilight. However, our tasks didn’t stop there: we were assigned to the first half of night defense by manning the trenches. It is from the said trench that I’m writing this entry. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss the usual nervousness that comes from night duty; there were too many risque times during my tenure back in China. This time, though, at least I have a rifle with actual ammunition–plenty of it at that! I can at least fight back, although I still get the shivers when I recall the visions I saw the other day. Besides the torch that I use to help me write this entry, the only other lights around are the countless stars that dot the blanket of darkness above me. It was so beautiful, perhaps not only in the sheer amount of colors and stars but also in the way that I recognize none of it. The stars and constellations I’ve learned so long ago are now meaningless–figments of memories of a world I’ll probably never see again. I almost shed a tear in recalling the dear parts that I miss about Earth: my mother and sister, the sandy beaches of Yokohama, the delicious daifuku the old man across the street used to sell... and now the stretch of the Milky Way and the recognizable star patterns that used to look down on me.

All of it made me think: just what sort of wicked evil are we supposed to drive away? How severe is the problem that we have to be taken away from our home by the gods themselves?

We’ll probably know very soon.

Night 14, west of Nishinoseki

It’s been a tiring day, more or less the same old shit as yesterday, although I’m now writing on an actual table and sitting on a more or less comfortable chair–I’ll get to this part in a while.

The moment our chickens started cockadoodle-doodling, the morning trumpets sounded–even when sunlight is only grazing the horizon–and off we went to pack up our gear. We were going to leave some of the camp structures up since we hope to return through this route once our mandate is done (whenever that may be). Once we had packed up what we needed to bring, we formed our marching column on the road. After we were all set, we continued our march; it was already sunrise. We made our way westwards with the rising sun shining its warm, cozy light on our backs. As per the native guides’ insistence, we were going to reach the designated fortified pass within the day.

It was more or less the same scenery, with the earth-shaking stomping of the Demon Slayer Regiment kicking up dust along the dirt road while we all sang (hilariously off key, to add) marching songs. Perhaps a bone-chilling reminder to our native friends that we were all just simple men with machines and boomsticks and not ‘saviors’ with ‘divine mandates’; we even wanted to believe these were coincidences meant for someone else. But then, as we got further into our march west and the sun was higher up, the scenery started to change. The simple rolling plains started to become a lot more forested, with conifer-like trees stretching high into the sky, blotting out the horizon and even the sun itself at times. The dirt road was still there, and we were still following it, but the terrain that it ran through was starting to get a bit more sloped and inclined. There were far more boulders along the way and fewer native settlements dotting the road. My ears were also starting to hurt, we were probably going up in elevation too.

The unexpected change in terrain took its toll on everyone–even that fat bastard Onizuka on his horse wanted a break. Fortunately, the sun was at its highest: it was just in time for lunch. We came across a clearing in the dense forest just next to the road and so we set down our packs and took a break. We had a quick lunch together, perhaps the best scene with the most sense of urgentless normalcy. Everyone, even the usually paranoid Kunieda, was able to sit down and eat their lunch with a semblance of peace and tranquility. The silent forest background and the serene manner in which the sun’s rays permeated through the tall trees hammered in this feeling of calm. Perhaps it was this distracting lull that got our commanders all itching to kill the fun: not long after, we resumed our march.

After two hours of marching up and down, and left and right, we’ve finally happened upon a gorgeous sight of geology: the dirt road ahead leads through a massive gorge that was seemingly split open by a gigantic hatchet. Passing through the roughly one-kilometer-long gorge, we were treated to the sight of towering granite cliffs on both sides, but there were countless imperfections, cracks, and small passageways which could be exploited. Sure enough, that train of thought was not missed on the natives: warriors of different proportions and features with uniform garb and weapons appeared in all the nooks and crannies all along the gorge. Most of them had bows and arrows at the ready, positioned in places where we expected them to be, but most were on points where we didn’t even know were possible to be reached. The sight of native warriors present on all of our sides roused the innate fear of being surrounded within all of us. Almost immediately, everyone–including me–grabbed their rifles subconsciously, with the march stopped altogether. Just then, we heard the distinctive, gruffly voice of Col. Onizuka ring out across the gorge.

“STAND DOWN!!!”

The crackle of his voice sent shivers down our spine, getting our arms to reflexively lower our rifles before we could even rationally contemplate what he said. Just then, we heard the shouting of our native guides, which was responded in kind by another native shouting from atop the gorge. Their screaming back and forth continued for a time while we all remained tense, unable to understand what they were talking about, with us being surrounded remaining unchanged. Suddenly, the shouting stopped, followed by the native warriors visibly putting away their bows, with some leaving their posts altogether. Before us grunts could understand what had happened and what was going on, the order to resume the march was given, and so we were back to traversing the gorge.

Reaching the far end where we emerged back into the forested path, we were warmly greeted by the native warriors who only just moments ago were baring their arrowheads at us. They had faces of curiosity on them; they used whatever opportunity they had to try to look at our khaki garb, rubber boots, well-polished rifles, and even the mighty horses we brought along. After roughly an hour of just standing at the exit to the gorge while our commanders talked with the natives, they finally addressed us with mere grunts. Apparently, we have reached the pass that the natives were referring to with the native fortress camouflaged and hidden somewhere in the pass. From what they were telling us, the dirt road that passed through this gorge was the only route westward, so our commanders were quick to name the pass Nishinoseki (lit. gate to the west). The forests that sprawled over either side of the gorge were very thick and impassable for most people, especially entire regiments like our own.

Aside from these facts, they gave us the good news: there was a massive settlement a way down the road towards the west. The natives there apparently had enough room to house all of us “emissaries of the sun god”–I’m not sure if this bit was lost in translation, but this was what our native guides said in Japanese (they were learning fast!) The fat-ass Onizuka was still skeptical, though, so he ordered us to dig defensive positions around the length of the settlement once we got there.

When we did get there, he almost fell off his horse in surprise–the settlement already had walls, ditches, and trenches! The settlement, which probably housed around 5,000 natives, was a very big one; perhaps it was even larger than the fishing settlement/port opposite Camp Edogawa. There might have indeed been enough room for our entire regiment, but if past experience were anything to go by, most of us would probably be out on patrol or be posted on the defenses. In any case, Onizuka still ordered us to create more entrenchments to accommodate extra men, in addition to the field artillery and machine guns we brought along. As for why we’re setting up our arms all across the settlement, the reason remains unknown to us grunts for the time being.

There’s not much else to say; the beds that the natives allowed us to use were nothing short of luxurious (by my standards, anyway). Not only were the mattresses and pillows fluffier than a cloud, but I could also feel my pained backaches disappear almost entirely as soon as I lay down. The room was still shabbily built using stones, but the torch kept us warm. Perhaps I’ll rest my weary hands tonight too...

Night 15, west of Nishinoseki

Now it’s getting clearer why we’re hunkering down in Nishinoseki and why we’re not marching further west: today, a group of native refugees tiresomely crawled their way to the ramparts of the settlement. They numbered around 15, with all of them being the long-eared type. Three of them were children–perhaps toddlers–all screaming and crying as the tired women tried to keep them sheltered with their arms. The remaining members, the men, were all battered up and bloodied–one of them was even missing an arm, replaced by bloodied bandages. As soon as they climbed onto the ramparts, our comrades sounded the bells to summon our commanders, medics, and the natives. The resulting commotion was contained by the grunts from the regiment headquarters unit, but I witnessed enough to know that the natives and our commanders were visibly distraught.

We were ordered back to our posts–my section was posted along the stone walls, manning two watchtowers. I could vividly recall the sight of our surroundings from atop those cold, high ramparts: an endless sea of conifers was all that we could see all around us, but not before the cleared plains that stretched a couple of hundred meters from our farthest ditches. These plains had signs of agricultural efforts, but they were nothing like the sea of wheat-like plants we’ve seen back at the cove where Camp Edogawa was. I remember the serene, natural silence from up there, with only the howling of the wind and the chirping of birds adding to the ambiance. It was calm to the point of excruciating anxiety–I can’t help but stress over the injured refugees that showed up. They reminded me of the visions of demonic evil from several days ago... Are we really going to see them soon?

As if to answer my question, Matsuoka climbed up the ramparts towards our group, having come from the commotion surrounding the refugees. His eyes were one of uncertainty–something I have not seen since when we first woke up on the transport ship weeks ago.

“There were no announcements, but it appears that we’re not gonna march out anytime soon.”

There was an accompanying heavy sigh after this statement.

“When I heard Col. Onizuka and his staff mention to the natives about marching out tomorrow, the natives were vehement in their insistence to have us stay... I think the appearance of the refugees spooked them.”

Kanda nodded in agreement.

“Connecting the dots, I think it’s starting to look as if those demons are coming here, especially if they’re going to follow the trail of blood left behind by the refugees. If that’s the case, then it makes sense that we don’t march out–we have better chances of smacking them while fortified here than out there marching.”

It was a sound argument, especially since we still don’t know how to fight them. But this only worsened my anxieties. While the others were more than eager to take up their rifles and blow up some demons, I was less than enthusiastic about the whole affair– after all, I’m the only one who has actually seen the visions. Will our guns be really enough against those horrific monstrosities? What if they’re not? Will we then suffer the same fate as those natives in the visions we saw? Considering that there are around ~5,000 natives here and our 4,000-strong regiment, it will be nothing less than a bloodbath. But then, if our hopes are indeed in the right place and our guns will blow them to smithereens, then we’ll likely see a slaughter of the other side. These possible events could not be any farther from each other in terms of their outcome; it was only stressful to think about.

“True enough. Although now I wonder how those recon patrols we sent out are doing.”

That was perhaps the only constant thing I could be thankful for, as I’m grateful that I’m not part of the recon patrols. As much as possible, I don’t want to be the first soul that sees those things up close. I feel much more comfortable at the range, even if I don’t know if my rifle will do wonders against those demonic terrors.

I don’t have a watch, but I can tell it’s been hours since the sun has set. Torches and lights line the ramparts, eerily tracing lines in the darkness that coincide with the fortifications. The wind that blew was strong and chilly, but we had to remain vigilant–at least until our shifts were over. Nothing of note is happening, and I’m starting to feel drowsy, so I’ll probably leave this off here.

Day 16, west of Nishinoseki

I could not be any more wrong in writing off that last entry! I’m currently writing this in the morning since I’m finished with my section’s damage and casualty report, but I’ll try to note what happened right after I signed off last night.

Just as I was about to climb down the ramparts to inquire about the shift postings, I heard the incessant sound of popping in the distance to the west. The popping was so utterly familiar and ingrained into my soul that I reflexively grabbed my rifle and pointed it down onto the dark plains below the walls. The chorus of rifle fire grew even louder–more desperate–as the seconds ticked by. As part of watch duty, I should have been sounding the alarm on this, but memories of the demonic evils from the visions scared me into fighting back. I looked all around me: apparently, everybody was hearing the gunshots and they were all aiming their guns to where the shots were coming from. Everyone was on edge–we were at a loss on whether or not to sound the general alarm.

Then, we started seeing flashes.

Some hundred meters below us along what appeared to be the treeline that separated the plains from the forest, we started seeing bright flashes that roughly coincided with the gunshots we heard. Straining my darkness-trained eyes onto what was producing the gunshots, I made out some of our own riflemen and horseback emptying their clips into the forest as they galloped towards the ramparts. Before long, the men manning some of the searchlights turned them on, pointing the gigantic walls of light down onto the incoming rifle-armed horsemen–probably one of our patrols. Their faces, brightly lit by the searchlights, inspired dread among all of us, onlookers, when we saw just how frightened they were. Then, from among the chorus of gunshots, we heard their desperate screams.

“THE DEMONS!!! THEY’RE HERE!!! SOUND THE ALARM!!!”

Whether or not driven by terror or duty, someone sounded their bells. Before long, the entire settlement was awash in the sound of ringing brass. As natives and comrades alike awoke from their slumber, we soldiers already on the ramparts were finally witnessing the horrifying evil the gods told us to drive away.

“What the hell are those things?!”

“Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god!”

“They’re monsters from hell!!!”

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Open fire!!! Light them up!!!”

The first things that appeared were the red, toddler-sized things that crawled on all fours with ravenous, blood-smeared mouths and claws that dwarfed even those of the brown bears back in Hokkaido. They appeared in the dozens–no, perhaps even hundreds–flooding out from the forest and chasing after our horseback patrol. Everyone on the walls and on the ditches and on the trenches that had rifles waited not for orders from superiors–fear beckoned on our fingers to keep pulling the trigger.

Pam! Pam! Pam! Pam!

A chorus of dry-sounding gunshots from all across the settlement filled the eerily silent night. The desperation and impatience in our marksmanship were signs that there were no longer any doubts among us: there truly was something dark and evil in this world. Spotlights kept trained on the treeline from where the demons were emerging into a horde, allowing us to see what we were firing at. Fortunately for everyone, there was a saving grace to all of this: our guns were having an effect. In fact, our guns were more than overkill: the shower of lead from our jittery, frightened aim slaughtered the demonic critters en masse. A single rifle shot to anywhere on the small crawling demons was enough to reduce them to bloody mist. Still, despite this respite of us mauling them in the dozens, they kept on coming and coming.

“Get the machine guns out!”

One of our commanders, having assessed the situation from a watchtower, finally started barking orders. In our frightened state, we were more than obliged to follow them. Before long, our disparate rifle fire was drowned out by the constant, mechanical roar of our light machine guns, bursting their anger against the demonic onslaught.

Tatatatatatata!

Tracer fire rained upon the dark forest as our limited spotlights struggled to illuminate the hundreds of demons emerging from the treeline. Our desperate bid to keep them towards the treeline was still paying off, but the minutes dragged on, and our overheating barrels and worn-out arms were starting to affect the pacing of our attack. Not long after they started overcoming their dead bodies, the bigger demonic critters arrived on the scene.

“What the...”

“I... I can’t take much longer!”

As if to time perfectly with our exhaustion, bigger, bear-sized demons emerged into our spotlights. Some of them were like the rabid tigers I saw in my vision, some were literally just messes of tentacles with a big, ravenous mouth in the middle, while some were human-like in their appearance, but were bloodied, on all fours, and had more than ten limbs sticking out of everywhere... It was a hideous sight–one that earned more than a dozen puking actions from my comrades. Upon seeing them, many wanted to run away from the ramparts, but they were held back either by words or by the threat of being shot by fellow soldiers. Indifferent to what was happening on the walls, the horde of monstrosities crawled, ran, rolled, jumped, or threw themselves into the foray, destined for the settlement.

“Don’t let them get close! Keep firing!”

This time, Col. Onizuka was there on the walls with us, shouting orders for everyone to hear. With some of us having seen the visions earlier–thus knowing what happens if the demons get close to us–we were more than eager to shower these devils with hot lead. Once more, a cacophony of rifle and machine gun fire erupted from our defensive positions, proving fatal even against the bigger demonic monsters. As we continued to pull our triggers and empty our munitions, we started hearing the song of the big guns.

Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!

Flashes erupted from behind us as the regiment’s 75mm mountain guns and many battalion-level 70mm howitzers roared to life. Within seconds of firing, their high explosive shells peppered the treeline, creating craters on the plains that were filled to the brim with thrown-up earth and demonic corpses.

“Ughhh fuck!!! Finally!!!”

“Take that, you fucking heathens!!!”

Exasperated shouts of frustration and relief were the next to roar out from our side. I, too, wanted to shout, but I was all sweaty and out of breath, emotions and hormones–both good and bad–mixed up for a thrilling yet tiring experience. I wanted to believe that this is all that we had to do to fulfill our so-called divine mandate, but it’s perhaps the first of many encounters. While we all watched the remaining demonic critters scurry back into the forest, leaving behind fields buried in a layer made out of their own corpses, something from the corner of my eye caught my attention.

I looked up towards that something: there seemed to be something dark that was slightly moving against the dark backdrop of the cloudy sky. I couldn’t make out what it was, but it appeared to be a humanoid figure as if some sort of harbinger of something unpleasant. Still, all it did was just hovering there. Perhaps I’m tired or crazy, but it feels as if this figure was staring back at me. Just as I started pointing my rifle up towards the figure, it zoomed out of sight off to somewhere into the black recesses of the sky, never to be seen again.

What was that thing?

Perhaps this was not the best question to ask, as we were still on edge if the demons were coming back. Half a day later, the sun peaked out of the horizon to the east; the only demons that were left were the corpses–or whatever remained of them–that littered the fields hundreds of meters from the walls. No more attacks came or were reported since that initial night raid. I’m so dead tired that I wanted to collapse, but I still had to check on our section’s casualty and damage reports, in addition to writing this entry.

As the gods willed, apparently, we were successful in keeping the demons to the tree line. The only casualties we suffered were those that passed out from terror (I can’t blame them; those things are bottom line hideous) or exhaustion from pissing their pants and the adrenaline rush. We burned through our ammunition stocks, but it was marginal; nothing our supply train that stretched all the way back to Fort Gakenomisaki couldn’t restock. The worst thing that happened was that we got too scared from the encounter that we just kept on firing and firing nonstop, resulting in the unexpectedly fast wearing of our rifles and machine guns, particularly their barrels. Some could be repaired readily, but others were broken to the point that they had to be replaced with completely new ones. We’ll probably spend the rest of today recuperating from this and licking our wounds–perhaps even learn from this experience on how to best react and fight against these things.

Before I close this entry, I guess I’ll put in some thoughts as to one of the scenes I’ve just witnessed. As I was taking down notes of the damages, I caught sight of commander Onizuka standing alone atop one of the ditches, his line of sight glued to the demonic carnage below. He was then joined by the long-eared native guides that came with us, with whom he almost visibly broke down, stomping the earthen ditch before throwing his officer cap down on it. I cannot possibly tell what’s going on in his mind, but if I recall correctly, he was one of the skeptical commanders when drawings of the visions were publicized. Perhaps he feels regret or remorse over this recent battle–I’m not entirely sure. Still, if the determined look in his eyes were anything to go by, we might be seeing more proactive actions moving forward.

Night 17

Sure enough, my hunch yesterday was correct: we’re now encamped dozens of kilometers northwest of the settlement at Nishinoseki with a battalion’s worth of demonic creatures killed. I’m starting to get used to all the fighting, marching, and trench digging that I’m more or less fine with writing at night again. I’ll start from this morning.

After a day’s worth of rest and getting our shit back together, we were more or less ready for another life-threatening fight. Last night, we were all briefed on the new plan the fatass Onizuka concocted. According to the native leadership that was with us, they’ve been tracking the numbers of the demonic horde ravaging the civilizations in Morigashima, so much so that they actually have a pretty consistent number: around 11,000 known individuals, including their leadership, a flying humanoid figure called a “demon” that has magical powers–similar to the native mages that were our guides. That was perhaps the apparition that I saw the other night... I was perhaps lucky that it didn’t unleash its power on me. Anyhow, the night raid that the demonic forces mounted against the settlement at Nishinoseki seemed to be a costly one: if the natives’ numbers are to be trusted and the demons currently have no means of regrowing their numbers, then we’ve killed over a third of that 11,000-strong horde–roughly a regiment’s worth of individuals. If they were that easy to kill, then it would only be logical to press our advantage; that was what Onizuka and his commanders had reasoned for why we were now going to chase down and destroy this demonic horde. Fortunately for us, they’ve been recently terrorizing settlements in massive groups; if we caught several of them by surprise with our overwhelming firepower, we could easily slash their numbers. It was sort of a divide and conquer strategy. With that said, they decided to split the Demon Slayer Regiment into three, with each element having its own infantry battalion, their organic battalion fire support, a signal platoon, a native guide, and so on. The regimental headquarters would be monitoring the progress of each element, with our native guides assisting in information gathering on the movement of the demonic horde.

When the sun finally rose, and we had a good night’s rest, we went our designated ways as the Demon Slayer Regiment split into three. Our element marched along the dirt road towards the northwest; the second element followed a river to the known site of a major native settlement to the north that the demons had ravaged; the third element went directly west to follow the trail left behind by the demons that retreated from the Nishinoseki raid. Hours into our march, we came across the ashes of a burnt-out farming village. Upon further investigation, we happened across a battalion-strong demonic horde feasting on the boney remains of the former native inhabitants of the village. The sight of bloodied human bones with splattered pieces of flesh all over was something I will never forget. Before fear and anger could take hold of our sense of reason, our lieutenant-colonel ordered us to take positions that surrounded the feasting demons stealthily. Eager to send these horrific monsters back to hell, we impatiently waited at our positions for the lieutenant-colonel to give us the order to attack. As soon as our big guns were ready, the lieutenant colonel raised his pistol to the sky and fired.

Pop!

Before the demons could react with speed to the alien-sounding pop, the faster speed of our bullets made quick work of them.

Pam! Pam! Boom!

We fired without any semblance of order or restraint; every man furiously emptied their clips onto the hideous demons. The gunners of our 70mm howitzers moved as if they were firing machine guns–almost every second, I could feel their distinctive thunderclap assaulting the rhythm of my heartbeat. After roughly ten minutes of controlled, localized, yet indiscriminate gunfire, where the roughly one to two thousand demons were was now just simply charred earth, craters, and blown-up bits of burnt flesh and bone. I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t cathartic–such mindless, violent carnage never tickled my heart before... Perhaps because they were actually evil demons that only kill people? A part of me imagined something bigger at play, but what does a lowly first-class private like me know?

After we scanned the fields for any surviving demons–and confirmed we’d annihilated them all–we continued our march north. Our progress must have been communicated to the regimental headquarters, with the response likely being a good one; I’ve never seen such a relieved face on the lieutenant colonel’s face before. With the sun almost setting, we set up camp next to a creek that ran along the dirt road north. The ensuing dinner was neither delicious nor abhorrent; I couldn’t take my mind off the thousands of demons we slew the past two days alone. Was this violence really necessary? Is this what the gods wanted us to do to fulfill our divine mandate? Were we actually making progress on that? The usually delicious miso that came with our rice never tasted so... mundane. Then, as if to add insult to injury, the lieutenant colonel and his staff broke the news to us from the regiment headquarters: the other two elements also successfully tracked down and eliminated entire demonic formations. That meant that there was now only a regiment-sized demonic unit active somewhere–four to five thousand individuals. At that moment, it felt as if my will to eat had evaporated entirely. Don’t get me wrong: I absolutely detest the monstrous critters. It’s just that the absolute level of violence we’ve been able to project over them... was somehow the good thing to do? Was it really part of our divine mandate? It’s hard to think these things through since I know that the demons would gladly rip my face out given a chance. But why exactly were they doing this? Are they really just evil, or is there a bigger purpose as to why these barbaric events were happening? I couldn’t get these thoughts out of my head...

Maybe I’ll stop feeling these doubts the more I get desensitized to all the violence.

Day 20, some random beach, probably northwest of Nishinoseki

Well, shit.

I’m currently on a cliff together with the rest of my company, overlooking a nice-looking beach with perfect white sands and the ocean that was bluer than any body of water I’ve seen in my life. It was the perfect holiday destination–better than even the beaches back in Yokohama–had it not been for the thousands of monsters, demons, and abominations that are currently formed for a battle down there.

I couldn’t write the past few days due to the near constant marching and fighting–it was so fucking tiring. There was a time when we had to fight off an ambush during a river crossing. Still, all the demons we’ve killed up to this point meant that they were now reduced to a force of roughly just two thousand. Our fast-paced march, which was apparently faster than even the natives anticipated, meant that we gave the demons little time to lick their wounds. Earlier this morning, the three battalion-sized elements had converged onto the same spot, getting the entire Demon Slayer Regiment back together. The 2,000-strong remnants of the demonic hordes we’ve all been chasing have cornered themselves on this beach–they’re now formed up in your standard melee battle formation and they appear ready to fight to the last. Our battalions have formed up firing positions on the cliffs, slopes, and even rock outcroppings surrounding the area of the beach that the demons occupied, all of it is to ensure that our regiment has all of its guns bearing down on them. We’ve got them within the sights of all of our guns–it was now up to our commanders to give the order to open fire.

The problem is that it’s been an hour since we’ve taken up our positions and pointed our loaded rifles onto the bastards. The order to open fire is yet to be given. From my position atop one of the stones on a cliff, I could turn my head around to see Col. Onizuka, his headquarters staff, and the native guides were just conversing with one another. What exactly was the hold-up? This sentiment was shared by everyone–even our battalion commanders–who were either exhausted from holding up their guns or were itching to kill the scary, intimidating demons on the beach. Heck, I could even drop my rifle and write this diary entry without any restraints! I wonder why we’re not just going forward with dropping the coup de grace on these things.

Actually, there was something different with the demons this time: in addition to the usual, frightening spawns from hell, there were a hundred or so humanoids at the back that looked less monstrous yet more... buff? They were dark-colored and covered in fur from head to toe, but they were certainly muscular underneath. They didn’t have human faces; instead, they had a boar-like snout with red, bloodshot eyes–but they did not particularly look mad. Perhaps the feature that’s most telling is that they wielded actual weapons: greatswords, gigantic axes, morning star-looking maces, and so on. Behind them stood an even bigger individual, the only one of its kind: its colored fur was a deep, crimson red, and it had a more human-looking face–still ugly, I’m afraid. It wielded an even bigger ax in comparison to the boar people in front of him. From its mannerisms in pointing out locations and screaming unintelligible things to the demonic horde, it was probably a leader... but it looked nothing like the flying, dark-colored “demon” that the natives described.

- - -

Something had happened while I was writing, but I hope that the fact that I’m still writing this meant that I got out of it alive. The battle at the beach was over, but not as we had hoped. I have time, so I’ll write out what happened and why I suddenly stopped in the middle of my entry.

While I was writing the entry above, suddenly, from the corner of my eyes, I saw something appear in the skies above us. It seemingly materialized out of nowhere, or perhaps it simply uncloaked itself and it was just there all along. That same apparition I saw back at the raid at Nishinoseki–the black, flying figure–was up there with its bat-like wings unfurled. It had arms, which it used to point towards us. Before long, it felt as if I started seeing red sparks emanate from those arms. I dropped everything and reached for my rifle–but it felt like I was not going to make it in time to ready, aim, and fire at the figure, and neither were the others next to me.

But then, I saw a flash of movement from the corner of my eyes. I swung my head around to where I saw that movement. There, just above Col. Onizuka and the rest of his staff was one of the native mages–the old woman Tagwen–levitating in the sky. Before I could even be flabbergasted by what I was seeing, she swung her staff in the direction of the demonic, flying figure. And then...

Flash!

A flash of light assailed my vision, and then I heard the defining crackle of thunder.

Kapow!

Within a second, the light receded, enough for me to see a bolt of lightning emanate from the clouds high above, smacking right onto the demonic flying figure. In an instant, the dark figure appeared to be knocked out of the battle, anticlimactically falling down onto the beach like a bird that got struck with a rock. His boar-snouted friends immediately ran to drag him towards the ocean under the cover of the mass of monsters. At that point–as if the biggest threat to us had been taken out of the fight–the distinctive crackle of that fatass Onizuka’s voice resounded across the beach.

“OPEN FIRE!!!”

Our fingers, already primed for flexing at the trigger, sprang into action before our minds could even process the order. Less than a moment later, the flurry of gunshots once more filled the air and our ears.

Pam! Pam! Pam! Boom!

Machine guns, mortars, howitzers, rifles, pistols–every single firearm at our disposal was emptying its barrels in countless flashes of fire and smoke. I didn’t aim at any particular target: if I saw something moving, I emptied my entire clip on it. We were relentless and indiscriminate; the resulting carnage was unsurprising. The demons... never stood a chance. Solid lead bullets, high explosive rounds, and even the armor-piercing munitions from our anti-tank guns made extra extra extra extra definite that the demonic horde below us was going to be reduced to smithereens.

However...

From beyond the hail of tracers and shower of ejected sand, I saw the boar-snouted humanoids and the crimson-colored, ogre-looking fellow running into the ocean. Then, they threw large, glowing, brown balls into the water. As soon as they hit the water, the balls immediately flashed yellow, turning into small boats. The transformation... was nothing less than magical–if not sorcery! As if what I had seen was not enough, the boar-snouted humanoids and that ogre individual jumped on board before the boats sped away into the ocean at unimaginable speeds. They disappeared into the horizon faster than we could even realize that they were running away.

“Did you see that?”

“Where did they get those boats? Those things were faster than even our seaplanes!”

“They just appeared out of thin air! Could it be similar to the magic the natives are using?”

The others around me started talking amongst themselves; as it turns out, the shooting festival was already over. One did not even need to wait for the dust to settle to know that no demon had survived that onslaught of gunfire. Well, perhaps except for those stragglers that managed to get away... Reloading my rifle, I looked back at Onizuka and his staff: they were visibly distraught... perhaps they’ve also seen the ogre-looking individual and his henchmen getting away? Judging from their earlier mannerisms, they were likely the leadership of the demonic horde: if so, then their frustration was understandable.

After the entire two-minute-long shindig, we went back to the formation and went to check the beach for stragglers. Once we’ve ascertained the obvious, we set up camp along the cliffs. The prevailing mood amongst all of us was one of “that’s it?” The great, final, decisive battle to ultimately drive away the accursed evil and fulfill our divine mandate was just... that? With how things are and how we’re still not being ‘rewarded’–whatever that may be–I think it is safe to say our mandate remains unfulfilled. If anything, it was likely because we let the demonic leadership get away. This sentiment was shared by everyone in the regiment, so we were all kind of disappointed and frustrated.

I started hearing complaints about how the order was given too late or how we should have focused our fire on the boar-snouted humanoids. Our battalion commander, the lieutenant colonel, was a bit more far out with his complaint: it was the Navy’s fault! Apparently, if they’d only provided us with their fighters and other aircraft, we could have soundly annihilated everyone! Even Matsuoka, Aso, Kunieda, and Kanda all shared in this sentiment, mulling over the fact that our firepower was not enough.

Sheesh... With the way our regiment easily wiped out a force of ~11,000 demons within the last several days with our firepower alone, I’d argue that we had more than enough at our disposal. Still, I wonder what’s left for us now that we’ve killed them all? Sure, some of them got away, but they’re just a couple hundred or so stragglers. I’m not sure; we’re not yet being ‘rewarded’ by the gods, so maybe we’re not actually done yet?

I don’t know anymore...

Day 21, on the way back to Nishinoseki

Our commanders tell us that we’ll be marching all the way back to Camp Edogawa; now that the natives tell us we’ve eliminated virtually all of the demons, there’s no need to be on the edge. I’m not sure if that means that this march will be less tiring, but I’m just second-guessing myself–they’ll probably force march us all the way back. The native guides with us were more than thrilled with the result–a stark contrast to what we felt.

What’s next? Are there more demons? Are we really done?

Something tells me these questions will not be answered anytime soon...