The furious bombardment made the church chandeliers sway precariously, but no one inside paid any attention, because they were either groaning and screaming or sweating frantically at their work.
Medic Charlie was struggling to save a young soldier's life.
The warrior's upper clothing had been torn away, and a bloody wound blossomed across his bare chest like a scarlet flower. A bullet had blown apart his skin and flesh.
"Press harder!"
Charlie shouted as his fingers flew over a metal tray already stained with blood, searching for the right tool. Used syringes had been carelessly tossed outside the tray.
Another recruit, with no medical experience or skill whatsoever, served as his temporary assistant and pressed down on the dreadful wound.
The soldier convulsed beneath them. Though only twenty-two, he was a veteran who had fought on battlefields for years. He did not scream, instead clenching his teeth against the terrible pain that could kill a man.
Seeing him tormented by agony, Charlie could only pull out another syringe and drive it into the man's neck.
As the painkiller entered his body, the soldier began to shake violently, nearly snapping the needle.
Charlie knew there was a stage before the painkiller took effect when it accelerated the heart rate, making the pain even worse.
"Hold him down! Don't let him move around!"
Charlie barked, and his assistant immediately grabbed the soldier's trembling limbs in a panic.
"Yes."
Suddenly, a voice appeared behind Charlie—or rather, something more like a roar.
"Hold 'im down, so I can finish 'im off easier."
His heart pounding violently, Charlie abruptly looked up and saw a hulking figure in heavy metal armor standing before them like some colossal beast. Its shadow completely swallowed both men.
Its thick right hand gripped an enormous warhammer, pale green arcs of