When the emerald flare tore through the darkened sky above the swamp's horizon like an ominous will-o'-the-wisp, bathing the area in an eerie, sickly green glow.
Athos, once an officer of the Minicia Kingdom and now commander of the Bagnia Railway Corps' First Battalion, burst through the outpost's crude wooden door almost the very second the signal flare exploded.
"Everyone, follow me! Move!"
His roar pierced the filter of his gas mask, carrying an unquestionable urgency.
No further orders were needed. Already geared up and ready, the Bagnian Railway Troops-men in matching, mud-stained dark gray military greatcoats, wearing gas masks and armed with flintlocks and spears-followed their commander silently and swiftly, like machines switched on, plunging headlong into the death-reeking mire.
Once they left the outpost's reinforced ground, mud quickly swallowed their calves, making every step heavy and arduous. But Athos never slowed.
His eyes remained fixed on the area shrouded in green light. Athos knew exactly what that emerald flare meant. He had not forgotten what the officer had told them during training.
Cold, muddy water splashed against their waterproof trousers as they ran. The swamp's distinctive stench, a blend of rot and unknown toxins, stubbornly seeped through the gaps in their masks and into their nostrils.
Yet that familiar, nauseating smell acted like a fuse, instantly igniting the pent-up fury and hatred deep within Athos's chest, burning hot as lava.
Snake-men!
The word exploded in his mind, instantly drowning out every other thought.
Bagnia, Minisia-those identities that had once shackled his soul were as flimsy as paper before his searing hatred!
His thoughts dragged him uncontrollably back to a dusk several days earlier, steeped in that same swamp stench.
Back to the first thing Ivyra had said when she found him at the Logging Camp.
The word revenge