Prologue

The newly rising Eastern European nation of Boshortrushi had long been subjected to unjust rule by the Russian Federation, once the core of the former Soviet Union, due to its position as a buffer zone. When the government could no longer tolerate the mounting grievances, it finally declared full independence—igniting war with Russia, who moved swiftly to suppress the declaration.

At the outset, military analysts from around the world unanimously predicted that the war would end in just a week. However, Boshortrushi, bolstered by military aid from neighboring countries such as Ukraine and NATO-aligned Baltic states, defied expectations. Despite facing the full might of Russia’s professional army, Boshortrushi was somehow holding its own and even gaining the upper hand.

But their opponent was Russia—the nation that once defeated the Nazis and, albeit temporarily, stood on par with or even above the United States. Even after the collapse of the Soviet Union, Russia still possessed immense military strength and abundant resources. A single lapse in judgment could spell Boshortrushi’s defeat.

Yet, the people and soldiers of Boshortrushi stood firm—driven by deep patriotism, unbreakable unity, and unwavering conviction. They had pledged to give everything for their homeland until the day they achieved freedom.

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In the dense, overgrown forest of northern Boshortrushi.

The cold wind howled as I—Sergei Ivanovich Belenko, underage and knowingly violating international law by masquerading as a combatant—ran, breath ragged, fleeing from a group of Russian soldiers who had launched a surprise assault on our trench outpost.

The attack had come without warning. Just as I was resting in the filthy, stinking trench, artillery fire struck. To make matters worse, many of our soldiers were away on leave, leaving us with an insufficient force to hold the position. The veterans had stayed behind to fight, but now I could no longer hear their gunfire. Most likely… they had all been killed.

“Damn it, couldn’t they have picked a better time!?”

I kept my body low, dodging the sharp crack of Russian gunfire as I ran.

“Shit—close one!”

A bullet smacked into my helmet, making a metallic clang.

I ducked behind a nearby tree, pulled off the helmet, and examined the damage. The side was badly dented. If the angle had been even slightly different, I might not be breathing right now. Cold sweat trickled down my back.

“They're catching up…”

The Russian soldiers were closing in fast. I quickly strapped the helmet back on, tightened the chin strap, and dashed off again.

Glancing back mid-run, I saw them still on my tail. Russia’s military had always been stubbornly persistent—dating back to Soviet times. It was like being chased by a damn stalker.

Desperately searching for a place to hide, I burst out of the dense woods… and suddenly, before me stretched a breathtakingly vast blue sky, like an ocean. Beneath it lay a cliff so deep it seemed to go on forever.

For a moment, the majestic view made me forget I was in a war zone. But the approaching footsteps snapped me back to reality.

Emerging like monsters from a horror movie, about ten Russian soldiers stepped out of the shadows, slowly forming a circle around me.

I stepped back—only to feel loose gravel underfoot. The cliff's edge.

“...Tch.”

My tongue clicked in frustration as pebbles tumbled into the abyss behind me.

Surrounded by vicious enemies in front and a bottomless chasm behind me, my options were clear:

Surrender… or jump.

Neither choice was hopeful. I raced through my thoughts, weighing which was less horrible.

If I surrendered, I might be spared—but I’d be worked to death in a labor camp for the rest of my life.

Then a memory surfaced—an old photo I once saw on a message board, of a boy captured by Russian soldiers. His body was swollen and red, grotesquely mangled from torture. The image had been burned into my mind—something I could never forgive.

Not all Russian soldiers are evil… but war crimes by Russian forces were undeniably real and numerous.

In other words—

If I surrendered here, I might end up just like that boy in the photo.

Which meant there was only one wise choice left:

A daring escape from this world itself.

Chaining down my fear of death, I steeled myself.

Just as a Russian soldier reached out to grab me, I shouted my final words with pride and fury:

“Glory to Boshortrushi!”

There was nothing left to say.

I kicked off the edge—and let myself fall into the void.