MidReal Story
Ruthless Magic: A Philippine Military Saga
Scenario: military dark fantasy,, saga of tanya the evil but in the philippines in 1930s to late 1940s
Create my version of this story
The truck rattled and shook as it navigated the winding road, the tires kicking up dust and dirt as they went.
I sat in the back, a gun cradled in my arms, my eyes focused on the horizon.
I knew what was coming, and I had a plan.
It was a crazy, daring plan, but if it worked, it would turn the tide of this war.
We were outnumbered and outgunned, but we were smarter.
I hoped that would be enough to let us win.
I looked over at Sofia, who was sitting at my side, her hands clenched in her lap.
Her big brown eyes were wide, and I could see the fear in them.
I wanted to reach out and comfort her, but there was no time.
Instead I gave her a small smile.
“It’s going to be okay,” I said.
“Just remember what I told you to do.”
She nodded, swallowing hard, and I turned back to look out the back of the truck.
The American troops were gaining on us, their trucks roaring after ours, guns raised and ready to fire.
Our men were faster and more nimble—we had taken the mountain and we knew its curves like the backs of our hands.
I knew this road well though—I had grown up on these mountains, running through the forests, hiking up the trails.
We had an advantage as long as we could keep it.
If we could make it to the top of that ridge…
We rounded a curve and I saw our men waiting for us in the middle of the road.
There must have been fifty of them at least, all armed with rifles and machine guns, their faces fierce and determined as they waited for us to join them.
The Americans were close behind us now; I could see their faces through the dust cloud that rose up behind them.
The lead truck was almost close enough for them to fire on us—almost but not quite.
“Now!” I said, and Sofia nodded, opening the back of the truck and standing up as she raised her arms above her head.
“Don’t shoot!”
she shouted in English, her voice high and frightened as she stumbled over the words.
“We surrender!”
“What are you doing?”
Sofia shouted, her eyes wide as she spun to look at me.
We’re supposed to fight, not surrender!”
“Shut up,” I hissed, grabbing her arm and pulling her back down into the truck.
“Just do what I told you.”
I pointed at the ground, where our rifles lay scattered.
“Pick up a gun, but don’t shoot until I tell you to.”
Sofia’s eyes were still wide as she nodded, scrambling to pick up a machine gun before standing up in the back of the truck once more.
The Americans were so close now that I could see their faces, their eyes wide and hungry as they raised their guns to fire.
“The enemy is here!”
I called out, the words echoing through the forest.
“Prepare for battle!”
Our men opened fire as soon as they heard my voice, bullets streaming down out of the forest and into the trucks.
The Americans ducked down, trying to take cover, but there was nowhere for them to go.
The machine guns rattled as they fired, mowing down the American soldiers like so much wheat.
I fired too, aiming at a soldier who was trying to put a bullet through Sofia’s head.
She crouched down as she fired, not even flinching when blood spattered across her face.
I felt a surge of pride, knowing that she would do what needed to be done.
Sofia might not have wanted to fight, but it didn’t matter.
We needed her, and she would fight whether she wanted to or not.
It was just one of those things you had to do when you were a soldier in a war.
When it was over, there would be time to mourn, but right now, we needed to fight.
We needed to kill.
The Americans had killed us first, without mercy or remorse.
They had murdered our soldiers in cold blood and left their broken bodies on the battlefield without even bothering to bury them.
They had burned our villages and raped our women.
They had slaughtered thousands of people in Balangiga, including women and children who had nothing to do with the rebellion except that they lived here.
And now it was our turn to fight back, to show them that we were strong too, that we wouldn’t be crushed under their heel like so many ants.
I reloaded my gun, firing round after round into the trucks as they tried to back away, but it was too late for them.
Our men swarmed around them, shooting any who tried to run, setting fire to the vehicles that contained the ammunition we so desperately needed.
I jumped out of the truck, grabbing Sofia’s hand and pulling her after me as we ran toward the carnage.
“Help with the wounded,” I shouted, pointing at the few enemies who were still alive, crying out for help in English, their faces twisted in agony as they clung to their shattered limbs.
Sofia hesitated, looking at me with wide eyes, but she did as she was told, grabbing bandages from the truck and rushing to help the nearest soldier, a young man whose arm had been torn off at the shoulder.
“Is this what we have to do?”
she asked, her voice trembling as she met my eyes.
“Is this the only way?”
I looked at her for a long moment, my face hard as I stared into her eyes, but then, slowly, I shook my head, my voice soft as I spoke.
“No, it’s not the only way,” I said quietly, so that the others wouldn’t hear me, but Sofia shook her head, her face pale as she stared at me in disbelief.
“Then why are you doing this?”
she whispered, gesturing toward the broken bodies that lay scattered across the road like so much trash.
“We’re supposed to be fighting for our country’s freedom, aren’t we?”
I grabbed her by the arm, pulling her close so that no one could overhear us, but she still flinched when she heard my words.
“We are fighting for our country’s freedom,” I said, my voice barely more than a hiss as I spoke, “but we have to be smart about it.”
