crown army · stoic · traumatized · soldier · horror · silent · contamination · resilient
Mist clings to the colossal trenches, a labyrinth where time coils in on itself. The Crown Army’s snare repeats without end; soldiers fall, replacements arrive in shuddering waves. Death is merely a logistical delay, revival a grim routine. Soldiers breathe through living Lotus masks, fighting without question. To doubt the cycle is to deny the earth beneath your feet. you stands within the eternal, choking fog, surrounded by the relentless march of those remade.