Chapter 56: Comrade

Pskov jumped down from the vehicle, walked up to the guard, and handed him a cigarette along with an "officer's ID."

"Hey, Schymus!"

The guard took the cigarette, gave a comical salute to the officer's ID bearing the "Black Eagle" insignia without even bothering to open it, shoved the cigarette awkwardly into his mouth, lit it, and took a greedy, deep drag.

Supplies on the front lines were extremely scarce, especially during the Rosa winters... The frozen soil period and the thaw period were the most grueling times for the Prosen people.

"What were you saying about the situation up ahead?"

Only after watching the guard finish his first drag did Pskov slowly ask.

"Ah, our Seventh Division was originally mopping up a few cornered Rosa infantry regiments, and we were just about to completely wipe them out when a detachment of Cossack cavalry suddenly appeared from nowhere... Those golden-eyed bastards are tough to deal with."

The guard said intermittently, until Chen Lai jumped down from the tank and the guard caught sight of the "Skull Division" shoulder insignia, which startled him so badly that he dropped the cigarette butt in his hand.

"No need to be afraid, go on." Pskov looked at the guard with a somewhat solemn gaze.

"Yes... Although that bunch of Cossacks are formidable, they were no match for our 88mm guns firing at point-blank range. Most of those golden-eyed freaks were killed before long, and the rest fled in a panic into this forest."

"Naturally, the divisional commander wasn't going to let this opportunity slip, so he sent us in to hunt them down... But they somehow got their hands on biochemical drugs, and after injecting themselves, they've now turned into semi-ghouls. It'd be one thing on open ground, but who can fight them in a forest?"

"Hmm, are you sure they're semi-ghouls? Do they still have their sanity?"

"Hard to say, sir. Anyway, that's what I heard from the men who came back: scales and keratin have grown out all over their bodies, their hands have turned into claws, and only a trace of humanity remains in their golden pupils."

"If you ask me, you'd better take a detour. Head north from here, circle around to the bridge, and you might even capture a few stray Rosa units to rack up some military merit." The guard suggested, rubbing his arms as if he suddenly felt the evening chill.

"No need. We are the Emperor's Guard; we will not cower just because of a few pathetic ghouls. Our glory is our loyalty!"

Pskov played the part of an arrogant Prosen senior officer convincingly, bringing the arrogance of veterans of a hundred battles to life.

"Of course, of course! The Panzer IVs behind you certainly share your opinion—I can see seven or eight Iron Crosses painted right on them!" The guard nodded hastily, offering no further obstruction and letting them pass immediately.

"Move! Move!"

The barrier was lifted, the anti-tank roadblocks were cleared away, and Pskov directed the vanguard of the armored column through first.

Hearing the commotion outside, the commander of the Seventh Division came out to investigate. Seeing that it was his own troops preparing to march through the forest, he didn't pay it much mind.

However, upon returning to the headquarters, out of caution, he still asked: "What is the designation of that unit?"

"Sir, it's men from the Imperial Guard." A staff officer nearby had already obtained the situation via field telephone: "A motorized brigade subordinate to the Skull Division."

This single sentence stunned Major General Bruhn, commander of the Seventh Infantry Division, who then immediately reached out his hand toward the staff officer.

"Wire Field Marshal Manstein immediately. A Rosa force disguised as the Skull Division is about to cross the bridge."

"Sir?" The staff officer was baffled.

"Damn it! The subordinate units of the Skull Division were shattered during the last assault on Moscow and all pulled back to Germania to regroup! Where the hell did a 'motorized brigade' come from!?"

"Besides, why would a newly replenished armored platoon have only this handful of tanks? This doesn't conform to His Majesty the Emperor's 1940 divisional reorganization establishment at all."

"Hurry, notify the friendly forces ahead and make sure to deal with this Rosa force before they cross the bridge!"

...

Chen Lai and Pskov, having entered the forest, were still unaware that they had been exposed, and that a tightly woven trap awaited them right before the bridge.

Come to think of it, with two massive nations waging total war, military designations were a dime a dozen, and with so many subordinate units under a single division, who could have guessed that Manstein had brought only a "remnant" of the Skull Division to the front lines?

"General Pskov, what is in this forest?"

Chen Lai hadn't caught everything the Prosen guard said earlier, so he could only ask the general now.

"They said there are semi-ghouls in here, and they belong to our Cossack units."

"Cossacks? Aren't those cavalry units? Cavalry has pretty much been rendered obsolete by now, hasn't it?" Chen Lai asked again.

Pskov glanced at him. "Ordinary Cossacks have indeed been phased out, but mixed-blood Cossacks haven't. Their sabers can hack tanks to pieces!"

"Cavalry hacking tanks to pieces?" Chen Lai was startled, but considering the dragon blood and spiritual words of this world, it suddenly felt somewhat normal.

"Then what if they treat us as enemies? What should we do?" Chen Lai felt a bit apprehensive. Although he possessed the Spirit Word *Monarch's Flames*, he felt it might still fall short against ghouls.

"They won't." Pskov took out his ice ax again and tapped on the armor of Chen Lai's tank: "Menkov, come out! It's your turn!"

Menkov, with gauze wrapped around his head, crawled out from the driver's compartment, let out a chuckle, ran over to the Opel troop transport truck behind them, and pulled out an accordion.

"This is?"

"His Spirit Word, *The Siren's Song*. It can pull back people whose consciousness is on the verge of destruction, even if only for a very short time." Pskov said softly.

"Sirens are female sea monsters in Greek mythology. Those who hear their singing are lured in and lost in the depths of the ocean."

"Then shouldn't the effect of this Spirit Word be disorientation?" Chen Lai turned his head, only to hear the rustling of leaves in his ears. He quickly turned back and gripped his weapon tightly.

Deep within the dense forest, several pairs of claws were tightly latched onto tree trunks. Their faces held expressions of terror, hesitation, anger, and sorrow, as if every human emotion was laid bare on their features.

They were on the verge of degrading into ghouls, and at this moment, their only remaining thought was to kill a few more Prosen devils before their complete fall.

"They're coming."

Pskov looked somewhat sorrowful and closed his eyes. The ice ax dropped to the ground, showing no intention of defending himself.

The leader of the semi-ghouls, "Ivan," was the last one capable of retaining his self-awareness. His Spirit Word was *Servant of the King*, which could strengthen his comrades.

Because of him, very few of the Prosen Seventh Division troops who entered could escape, but he knew very well that he, too, was on the verge of transformation and might not survive past tomorrow.

His deep golden pupils locked onto Pskov. With a sweep of his long claws, the ghouls leaped out from the woods, causing a stir of panic among the troops.

The villagers had never witnessed such a spectacle. Ghouls and semi-ghouls were concepts that existed only in Rosa horror stories before this war.

"Comrade~"

Accompanied by the spirited tune of the accordion, Menkov began to sing. His golden pupils lit up at some unknown moment, and the power of his Spirit Word was at work.

The long claws, carrying a fierce gust of wind, stopped right between Chen Lai's eyebrows. Only then did Chen Lai see their faces clearly—they were as young as he was, covered in bullet holes and scars.

They didn't hate him; what they hated was the uniform on his back.

"Hey, the White Guard is a flock of black crows~"

"Trying to trample us beneath their feet--"

"From the Anglo coasts to Siberia,"

"Hey, the Federal soldiers of the world are the strongest!"

The song grew increasingly passionate, and the villagers, regardless of whether they knew the tune, hummed along. It was a melody with a very wide reach throughout the Rosa region.

"To answer your previous question," Pskov looked at Chen Lai, saying with a hint of melancholy: "If a crew of sailors has lost their way, the song of the sirens can also guide them home."