Lord Of Goblins

[WARNING: you have 10% charge left in your MCS]

'Huh… how did I end up in this ditch…?'

Lev's finger moved towards his MCS' display screen, the blue light reflecting off his visor.

The MCS display had a few tabs and two large blue buttons, conveniently named 'alert' and 'close'. Lev must've forgotten to stop the automatic alert notification system that was screaming at him to recharge his batteries.

'Now where exactly am I?', Lev thought as he looked around the dirt ditch he found himself in.

'I must make contact with the command centre or I'll-'

Lev's thought about contact was cut short as he heard a deafening explosion a few meters away from him.

'Must be a mortar shell', Lev concluded; mortar shells had to land near its target to kill it, and since Lev's combat suit protected him from any fragments caused by the shell's impact, he was saved from any harm.

That's why he has an MCS, Military Combat Suit in short. This isn't the official name of the suit, but many cadets choose to simplify it for convenience's sake instead of repeating the long and tedious 'Mechanized Military Personal Combat Protection Gear'.

Lev stood up, taking a good look around the scene he found himself in.

'A battlefield, I must've passed out-'.

"Aargh!", Lev felt a stinging pain in his lower torso, a piece of scrap, not from the mortar fragments, but an actual bullet had found its way through his protective gear.

'When did I get shot?', Lev couldn't remember much about this battlefield - he only knew that standing here and looking at the empty dirt impact craters wouldn't do any good.

'Right, I must contact HQ and get myself the hell out of here...'

Lev opened another display, this time on his right wrist. It looked like an old-fashioned display, one that wasn't virtual. Lev opened a few sub-tabs and found himself prompted with a confirmation form.

- Confirm your ID

Lev took out his dog tag - it had a chip with his ID embedded into it.

- ID Confirmed, proceeding action: Contact HQ

Lev walked further whilst the device was desperately trying to contact HQ.

'How many men died here?', Lev saw another part of the battlefield after crossing the hill - it was full of bodies, no, body parts and wrecked vehicles. Empty shells littered the ground, the smell of gunpowder and discharged plasma rounds still present in the air.

'That's right.', Lev's world was at war, not just any war, a World War never seen before in the annals of history. This war wasn't a war about ideology, politics, or anything of the sort. All they wanted was the neutral zone, a zone with plenty of resources and fertile land - well, it had fertile land before the war, but all they cared about were the resources they so desperately craved for.

Lev heard a familiar sound and looked at his display to find that it had managed to contact HQ, a transport vehicle was on its way to Lev's location.

After a brief moment had passed, Lev heard another familiar sound, the sound of atmospheric thrust engines, the same engines that had dropped him on the battlefield countless times over and over.

The transport vehicle landed near Lev on flat terrain, heedlessly crushing the corpses and debris below it.

A man walked out of the transport's cargo hatch.

"Recruit Lev, what are you waiting for!? Do you like the view!? Now get on, we haven't got all day!"

...

That was nine years ago, this will mark as Lev's tenth year in the United Republic of Eurasia's army. Eurasia has managed to last this long due to its Levy system.

Many countries fell into debt due to the exhaustion of most of their natural resources and a major economic collapse happened thirty years ago. To recover from the crisis, The United Republic of Eurasia and the other major powers at the time, started a military campaign to swallow all weaker nations that still had natural reserves that could be exploited. For that reason Eurasia developed the Levy system, if you fight ten years in the army you'll earn full citizenship in Eurasia, which means all your debts would be covered by the government, you'll have a way out of the slums, you'll be able to vote, join the united council, and run for office, not to mention you'll be able to provide a better future, a better tomorrow, for yourself and your family. Only one person needs to serve in the Levy system, and when he/she completed their ten-year term, all of their relatives would get full citizenship.

Lev was born in the slums almost twenty-three years ago. He left his friends behind when he joined the army. They didn't want him to leave, but he knew that he had no choice. Lev wanted to change this world from within, living in ignorance in the slums wasn't a life for him and it shouldn't be one for those he cares about either. If he had full citizenship, he could enter the United Council and offer himself as a candidate for the elections.

'If only I could get that kind of freedom; I could change the world afterwards.'

Lev looked at his MCR-17 combat rifle, cleansed the inner parts and filled his magazines with another round of plasma discharge capsules. This was his first day in Zone-10, formerly known as England. He had never been stationed here before, all he knew where the harsh battles he had to endure in the neutral zone and the less than comfortable stations at the edges of the neutral zone.

"ALRIGHT MAGGOTS, TIME FOR ANOTHER ROUND OF TRAINING!", the sergeant yelled with a sneer plastered on his face.

There's no promotion in this army, only people with limited citizenship may get promoted. Limited citizenship was the beauty of the Levy system. If you failed to complete your ten years term but managed to survive at least five years, you'd get limited citizenship and a chance to redeem yourself in exchange for another ten years in the army in addition to the remaining ones you left behind. The fastest way would be to ignore the pain and bite through the first ten years in one bite. Many people were disgruntled with the fact that you can't get promoted unless you have a limited citizenship, saying that it was a trap to entice citizens to quit halfway so that they could stay in the military for a longer period once they realized that the benefits of the limited citizenship aren't enough to properly secure their livelihoods.

"THAT MEANS YOU TOO LEV!"

Leonard Erand Vandersteen, 10th year, Private in the Eurasian Army; was ready for another training session...

Lev stood up and followed the others. Lev may have very well been the most experienced soldier in this base, even more experienced than the sergeant who left for limited citizenship.

First up was the standard eight km full gear sprint, Lev had adjusted himself to this session, his muscles ready for another sanding.

"This Lev... how long has he been in the army?", Mark asked his second in command.

"Well, at least three years longer than you, Mark.", Eric answered back.

"This lad has been here for nine years according to these records, he always survived the battle with his magazine empty and his combat suit a wreck.", Eric explained.

"So that explains his stamina. He must've been outmanoeuvring those mortar shells for years...", Mark sighed.

Mark was Lev's platoon sergeant and another victim of the limited citizenship system. Eric was a Corporal, with a similar story - after serving five years, he quit to heal from the various physical and mental scars the war had caused. He then returned to the battlefield, ready for his punishment: an additional ten years in hell.

"Damn those Imperials, if only they accepted the Higman's proposal back in the day, we wouldn't even have had this war to begin with.", Eric said.

The Higman's proposal was a drastic unification proposal in order to unify earth under one state. Everyone remembers Higman's famous last words.

"For peace to reign, we must unite the world".

Higman never saw his dreams come true for he was assassinated exactly ten milliseconds after those famous last words.

"It would've never worked, Higman was a delusional old man. He wanted power over the entire world; he was a dictator.", Mark replied, he wanted to believe that a world like that was possible, but he had lost faith in this world a long time ago.

"TIME FOR SITUPS, LADS!", Mark ordered aloud.

Lev and the other recruits did what Mark demanded. Everyone was whining and complaining about the training, except for Lev.

"Haha, they must be fresh from the meat mill; look at them complaining...", Eric laughed. Mark let out a slight smirk but was caught off guard when he saw that Lev was still going at it, doing every exercise to the fullest.

'That Lev, he's something different, are all nine-year term recruits like that?', Mark had never seen a recruit that had done all ten years in one sitting, ignoring the promises of limited citizenship and going straight for the grand prize, full citizenship.

Another week had passed and the recruits were ready for their first battle, their training was severely lacking. Thankfully, every soldier gets a combat suit to increase their odds at survival, though the quality differs depending on rank. The combat suits were programmed to execute complex battle movements to help turn the tides of battle. Sadly, only the very basics were explained to the recruits and it would take at least a month for trash from the slums to be moulded into a truly combat-ready recruit.

Lev heard that same familiar sound that he kept hearing for the past nine years and before he knew it, there it stood. The dreaded combat assault vehicle. It's atmospheric engines spouting out huge amounts of compressed air, the sound was deafening.

"Alright men, check your combat suits before entering and hang in tight.", Mark shouted at the cadets, knowing that more than half of them wouldn't survive this first battle.

"And don't forget lads, a fresh pint for the lucky one that kills the most!", Eric shouted sarcastically. The ignorant recruits took Eric's joke seriously, laughing about how easy it will be and dreaming about how they would tell their grandchildren about the 'Great War'. Lev wasn't smiling, he was checking all of his equipment one last time. He didn't socialize much these days, and why would he socialize? Making friends on the battlefield had lost its meaning, why would he make friends if he'd lose them a month later in battle. Why would he try socializing after seeing that same friend laying on the battlefield, his legs torn off and his brain in pieces next to his broken skull?

Lev stepped inside of the vehicle, securing himself and his suit to the support rack.

"Remember to release your suits when the light turns green!".

"Aye, Aye, Sir!".

Mark looked at Lev, Lev noticed this and replied a hastily "Aye, Aye, Sir!".

This was it, the transport to hell. Lev knew this all too well. He doesn't remember how many battles he fought, but he knew that every single one of them had the same outcome - he would always be one of the sole survivors.

What Lev didn't know was that this would be his final battle as a grunt. He'd get a ticket out. Not out of hell, but a one-way ticket into Lucifer's cage.

The vehicle's engines blasted another wave of compressed air and flew away from Zone-10's airbase. It won't stop until reaching the neutral zone, a zone which Lev will never forget, a zone that claimed the lives of many.

"Let's get this over with."