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A battlefield… I'm back on a battlefield.

The slight breeze that brushed against us was almost like a warning to sit still, but it didn't even matter as the men were now rushing back down the mountain.

The crunching of snow stopped as soon as they passed by our turn, and then the eerie hooting of an owl came from the distance.

Hoot… Hoot… Hoot…

"ARGHHHHH!"

All of a sudden, a burst of men appeared from around the turn, firing hundreds of bullets at us, but as they didn't expect us to be so far down, we achieved the initial damage.

We killed most of them on the initial spray, but they readjusted and fired at us once they realized our true position.

I was in the back with Simo, firing at the men who quickly fell from their injuries or instant death.

The battle only lasted for a couple of seconds, but in the end, we came out on top with seven injured and two deceased.

"Προσευχές για τους πεσόντες," I muttered, and once we buried the bodies underneath the snow, I checked up on the severely wounded.

Some looked as if they were not going to make it and had already accepted their death, but strangely with a smile.

"It was fun fighting beside you, Sir," One man muttered before drawing his last breath.

We quickly buried him under the snow, and Simo, without showing a hint of guilt, sorrow, or pity, scouted the surroundings.

We were actually in a pretty good spot for sniping, but the reflection from the scopes might give out more of our location.

Earlier, the shining sun could've helped us out, but now that we were in the shadows, the glint would be stronger and more noticeable.

"Breathe! Breathe! We're going to get through this!" A few of the men shouted as they dug out the bullet from the man's wound.

"ARGHHHHH!" He screamed in pain as one of the men then proceeded to stitch up the wound.

Cauterization might've been a better method, but I guess it would give away our position since we need to create a fire.

I'm also assuming that's why we don't have a campfire when we set up a base because the smoke would be an obvious giveaway to our enemies.

"Huff… Huff… Huff… I'm not going to make it," The man who had just been stitched up said as he gripped one of the men's chests hard.

"Don't say that, brother. Just breathe. Just breathe," He continued to mutter, and the man had already lost too much blood… thus causing him to draw his last breath as well.

Most of the men looked as if they were about to cry, but I couldn't really understand their need, as I never understood the basis of brotherhood.

In the army, brotherhoods were formed, but in a draft, normally, you don't have one unless you survive a battle with a few other guys.

Well, I guess I did have one from basic training… and I guess that is when everything really changed in me, but he ended up dying, so he doesn't matter anymore.

In reality, he just helped me throw away my weak self and become the strong human I am today.

"ARGHHHHH!"

"Sir! He won't make it!" One of the men digging out a few bullets calls out to Simo, who was overlooking the emergency operation.

Simo crouched down and placed two fingers along the side of his neck, feeling out his pulse, and with a long sigh that didn't create any mist, he spoke up.

"Don't waste any more medical supplies on him,"

His tone was cold and ruthless, just like every other action and decision he had made so far.

"B-But sir, without him, I'm the only medic left!" The man refused, and the guy he was attending to whispered a few words into his ear.

I slightly overheard it as I was also looking over the emergency operation.

"Don't waste any more supplies on me… I'm a goner… Please help attend to the others… Also, Sir, it was... it was an honor to fight beside you. I wish you... luck from the afterlife," He muttered before drawing his last breath.

In total, we had five casualties, four wounded, and six fairly unharmed people left.

Like me, they had a few scratches from bullets just barely missing us, but the wounds weren't so bad that we needed to stitch them up.

The medic just placed a cream on the wounds, which I assumed was to help it not get infected; otherwise, I might lose my wounded arm later on.

"We must move now. The bullets must've alarmed any surrounding men… remember, we're at war, so don't let your guard down no matter what," Simo said, and the undamaged helped the harmed move as we traveled back up the mountain but not to the peak this time.

After about three hours of relentless and insufferable walking, the sun had set, letting night come to fruition as it basked us in a pale blue moon.

We all collapsed upon finding a somewhat safe spot, and this also included Simo, who I guess was only human.

"We'll be leaving early tomorrow. There must be a few on our tail, so get as much sleep as possible. The wounded will be resting for about four hours, and the unwounded will be resting for about three to two hours," He said, and all the wounded nodded before entering their tents and resting in their sleeping bags.

"You, kid, get some sleep. That must've been traumatizing," One of the men said, and I wasn't about to not take advantage of their goodwill, so in a firm tone, I replied with,

"Yes, sir,"

"Wait," A voice suddenly called out to me, and when I turned around, I noticed it was Simo, and he looked as cold as ever.

"What is it, Sir?" I asked.

"Come with me. I want you to watch me do something," He said, and I let out a long sigh before following him into the small forest beside us.

It was freezing, and the night wind had picked up, blowing thick and almost icy snow gusts into my face.

Simo then pulled up a cloth mask that sat around his neck like a scarf, and I checked if I had the same thing, and what do you know, their one was.

I also noticed the ends of my purple hair were frozen into icicles with buds of ice at the end, creating a bit more weight on my head.

"Here,"

Suddenly, Simo took a sharp turn, back up the mountain again, and also handed me a few rectangles of chocolate.

"Take one every other hour. You'll be starving, but you won't be dead," He said.

After a few minutes of walking, we arrived at a small cliffside that overlooked the steep incline of the hill, and in the distance, I noticed a few pursuers right following our trail.

"Did we abandon them since they were baggage?" I asked Simo, but he just continued to weirdly stack a pile of snow and then laid down in a prone position with his sniper laying across the mound.

"No… We're taking care of these bastards following us,"

"But why call me out here? Wouldn't the others be a better selection?" I asked, but he just stayed silent as he removed the scope from his sniper.

What the hell is he doing? Don't tell me he's going to snipe through the trees without a scope!? That's crazy!

The men near the bottom of the incline were walking very slowly in order to hide the crunching of their footsteps, but that didn't make Simo's shot any easier.

Ah, so they were following our tracks… I completely forgot about that… Shit.

We were too exhausted and stressed to even think about covering our tracks, so in reality, we just made our situation worse.

"Watch me carefully," Simo muttered, so I sat down next to him while carefully watching his fingers, eyes, and slightly open mouth.

A slight whistle could be heard coming in and out of his mouth, and his cold eyes seemingly turned dead, almost exactly like mine a couple of years ago.

Well, his was actually much more believable since not even a muscle in his body twitched.

His finger didn't shake as he carefully kept the end of it placed along with the trigger.

Drool slid down from the side of his mouth, displaying his amazing concentration as he stared down the iron sight.

BAM

He pulled the trigger, killing one of the men but then collateralizing with another man right behind him.

The bullet almost seemed to bend as it shot through the air.

"UP THERE!" One of the men pointed towards our direction, but they all dropped to the ground in a series of quick fires.

BAM… BAM… BAM… BAM… BAM…

Twelve people were trailing us, but all of them were taken out by a measly six bullets.

He then pulled up his sniper rifle, satisfied, revealing an engraving in the barrel.

"What's the name of your rifle?" I asked.

"Ice-A,"

"Huh?"