On the outskirts of Budapest, the artillery and rockets had not stopped firing since the order for a full-scale assault came down.
Two cities facing each other across the river were under attack at the same time, and the flames of war had stained the entire sky red. The city walls had long since crumbled, and the chaos caused by several fires within the city had left it unrecognizable.
Ancient buildings had been razed to the ground, and countless homes had been reduced to rubble. The air was thick with dust and the smell of gunpowder.
A stray dog picked its way through the ruins, searching for anything it could eat. Suddenly, it caught the scent of a fresh corpse.
When the dog rushed closer, it discovered even more terrifying predators feasting nearby. It tried to turn and flee, but never got the chance.
Someone suddenly sprang up and grabbed the dog by the neck. No matter how it struggled, it could not escape its fate: its neck was wrung, and its guts were cut out.
Before long, a fragrant pot of dog-meat soup was ready. Along with the dog, the pot held rat meat, cat meat, and some meat nobody could identify.
People began to feast, but no one spoke. There was only the occasional scuffle over food, and death. Everyone turned a blind eye.
Chutkalai, however, began to weep. As "the bravest man in Hungary," he would never surrender. He had never even considered surrendering, because his hands were stained with blood.
At the Imperial Manor alone, he had slaughtered fifty thousand Germans. More people of other nationalities had died at his hands, but only he knew that the Hungarians he had executed numbered the most of all.
Others might not know or might have forgotten, but he