Ampelius found himself inside a large conference room filled with soldiers and a few civilian volunteers. Corvinus was standing at a podium on a raised platform, flipping through a stack of papers as he prepared a speech.

  Ampelius searched the room for an empty chair, finding one near the back, which happened to be where the volunteers sat apart from the soldiers. He felt like they were outsiders that were tolerated but never truly part of the group.

  As he made his way down the aisle, he could feel the weight of everyone staring. He glanced back at them briefly and realized their eyes were all cold and worn, like the look of men who’d seen too much but kept moving because stopping meant dying. The volunteers were another story, their faces were stiff with fear, and smiles that didn’t reach their eyes, all trying to look braver than they actually felt. Ampelius recognized that look too well, but there was a line between those who’d fought and those who hadn’t, and he could feel himself crossing it, ready or not.

  Ampelius sat beside a man whose hands wouldn’t stop trembling, nerves rolling off him like static. His eyes were bloodshot and hollow—the look of someone who hadn’t slept in days. The air had a sharp tang, thick with the stale mix of tobacco, sweat, and fear, all blending into something sour and heavy.

  He couldn’t shake this feeling that he didn’t belong here, as if he was too much of a civilian for the soldiers, but too inexperienced for other volunteers, most of whom appeared to be military veterans. For a moment, he thought to himself of whether he should stand up and walk out, pretending none of this was real. But then he remembered the faces of his neighbors, his friends, and Bella. That thought alone kept him in his seat.

  When Commander Corvinus raised his hand, the room went quiet at once. He began roll call, each soldier answering with a name and their rank.

  After the final name was called, the room fell back into silence. Everyone took a moment to remember the fallen, and those who have been killed in the last day. Ampelius followed suit and lowered his head, while the faces of the dead flickered through his mind: friends, neighbors, people that were victims of a city consumed by violence. The memories pressed against his chest, each heavy with guilt and grief. He clenched his fists, forcing himself to stay grounded. He was still here, still breathing, but for how long?

  Commander Corvinus lifted a stack of papers, his voice a notice to look back up.

  “Here I have orders from the Emperor himself. We’re to strike the last Vandal stronghold in Vetera. Some of you might question why, with the invaders still out there. The reason is quite simple, we can handle both. The Vandals are taking advantage of the chaos, and if we don’t crush them now, they’ll rise while our backs are turned.”

  A low ripple of whispers spread through the room, breaking the illusion of unity that a military gathering was supposed to have. Ampelius couldn’t tell if anyone here honestly believed they could fight two enemies at once, he could tell there was more doubt than confidence. A few soldiers traded quiet words somewhere in the crowd, their voices barely audible but enough to remind him that fear was contagious, and it was already spreading.

  “The Vandals are a brutal group, sure,” the soldier muttered, “but those things out there… they’re not even human. They’re a whole different kind of threat, and we are getting killed like flies, that should be our number one.”

  A soldier raised his hand but spoke before the commander could acknowledge him. “Commander, please forgive my doubt, but if we focus on the Vandals now, how are we going to fight these invaders? They are a much greater threat, and we really need all we got to fight them."

  Corvinus’s eyes locked on the soldier. “Good point,” he said, calm and hard. “This isn’t choosing one enemy over another, this is about survival. The Vandals have been given the opporunity to rebuild and spread, just like a cancer. If we don’t cut off their head now, especially while their still weak, they’ll grow beyond our capabilities. So we need to strike hard and fast at the Vandals’ heart, then throw everything at the invaders. Let the Vandals swell, and there won’t be enough left to stop either.”

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  Ampelius couldn’t help but question the logic behind this strategy. But deep down, he knew this was just how Rome operated as an empire. Their way in history was always known to be ruthles. They even managed to crawl out of their own grave to fight and win the biggest war humanity had ever seen. Their victory rebuilt entire nations, and changed the world order, all in less than a single century. He couldn’t argue with results like that.

  But every triumph came with a body count. The soldiers bleeding out on the front lines, the civilians crushed beneath the rubble, they were all who paid the price for Rome’s glory. Every victory felt like it stood on someone else’s grave. Ampelius wonder, if this was what survival meant, what was really left that was worth surviving for?

  Corvinus’s eyes settled on Ampelius and the other volunteers, his voice steady but rising with a bit of fatigue. “You’ll all be placed in one squad,” he said. “Each of you will be paired with a veteran, or at least someone who’s been through this before. You’ll get the full briefing once this meeting’s over. But until then, just stay alert and do exactly what your squad lead tells you. If you can manage that…” He paused, exhaling slowly. “Then maybe we all walk out of this in one piece.”

  Ampelius glanced at the faces around him, noting the mixture of steely determination and quiet fear. He clenched his fists in his lap, bracing himself. Whether or not he agreed with the Empire’s approach, there was no turning back now.

  Ampelius turned to the man beside him again, who had lit his cigarette despite the earlier offer. He took a long drag and exhaled slowly, his gaze fixed on the floor. "Think we'll survive this?" the man asked quietly, barely loud enough for Ampelius to hear.

  Ampelius hesitated as the weight of uncertainty pressed down on him. “I don’t know,” he said quietly. “But do we really have a choice?”

  The man gave a slow nod, but resigned to whatever came next. Ampelius felt that same pull in his gut, that sinking feeling that no matter what they did, the outcome was already written for them.

  Corvinus was still speaking, like he actually believed every word out of his mouth. Ampelius wasn’t so sure. They're being asked to fight on two fronts. But how can we win when we don’t even understand what we’re fighting? He thought.

  “Volunteers, I know every one of you are eager to settle your debts, but don’t expect this mission to be easy. This isn’t a simple job where you can cash out after a few hours of work. There’s no partial payment for leaving early, so you either complete the task in full, or return empty-handed. If you die, your debt will be considered paid, same for those of you doing this for someone else. There will be no half measures here; it's all or nothing. You’ll receive your weapons on the train since you’re not authorized to enter the armory. If you want out, decide before we board. After that, there’s no backing out. This is your last chance. Any questions?”

  Ampelius looked around at the faces of the other volunteers, seeing a mix of fear, resolve, some glimmer of hope. But then one of the volunteers stood up. “Sir, what weapons will we be issued, and how much ammunition are we expecting?”

  “You’ll get either a RIAR-35 or a shotgun,” the commander replied bluntly. “As for ammo, you'll get enough to get the job done.”

  “There will be enough to get the job done” Corvinus replied, but Ampelius didn't think that was very reassuring. Could it mean enough to survive, or barely enough to scrape by? Was the ambiguity intentional? Was this to lower their expectations so no one dared to hope for more? Then another volunteer spoke up. “What exactly is our role in the mission?"

  “You’ll be our rear security. It might not sound like much to you, but your task is critical to this operation. You'll protect the rear of our formation and ensure nothing passes to bite us in the ass. This allows our trained soldiers to focus on the assault. So please, take your role seriously.”

  Ampelius thought about what his role really meant. Rear security to hold the line, which mean't waiting for an attack that could come from anywhere. It sounded straightforward, but he knew better. Rear security was the first to crack when things went bad, or the first to take the hit if the enemy held the upper hand. It wasn’t a job for someone trying to stay invisible. It was where the danger always found you.

  When Corvinus dismissed them and the doors closed behind him, the tension eased, but only slightly. Ampelius noticed that some of the volunteers looked relieved, while others wanted to have a panic attack. He couldn’t tell which one he was. He’d made his choice, but now he had to live with it.