Reincarnated with the Country System

Eli sat in silence, his rifle across his lap, his fingers tracing absent patterns along the worn stock. Around him, the other guardsmen murmured, smoked, sharpened bayonets against their boots. Some dozed with heads lolling against the wooden walls, exhaustion pulling them under while they still had the chance.

None of them knew exactly what awaited them in Latvia, but they knew what they'd been sent to do. Suppress the rebellion. Burn the resistance out of their bones.

"Fucking Latvia," Rolf muttered beside him, breaking the silence. He was turning a dagger over in his hands, his thumb testing the blade's edge. "You ever think about it, Eli? The irony of it all?"

Eli didn't look up. "What irony?"

Rolf scoffed, shifting in his seat. "They razed Britannia.They have brought us to this point today, they killed our people. And now? We're going to their land to kill them."

Eli exhaled slowly through his nose. He had thought about it. He'd thought about it every fucking day since the orders came down. Latvia. The place that had sent its army into his homeland. That had torched villages, slaughtered families, left the fields choked with bodies and blood.

His father had died there, gutted like an animal by Latvian blades.

And now, Latvia burned again.

Not at the hands of Britannia, but beneath the heel of the Bernard Empire.

Eli hating this place. Wishing to see it fall. And now? Now, he was being sent for it.

The regiment had been formed after the fall of Britannia, a hodgepodge of survivors and soldiers too young or too broken to stay in the rear. They were the Guardsmen Corps, and they'd been baptized in fire, trained to kill, to destroy, to fight for the Empire's empire.

"Yeah," Eli said, voice low, rasping. "I think about it."

Across from them, Garrick spat onto the floorboards, shifting his rifle. "Doesn't matter who's in charge. A dead Latvian's a dead Latvian."

The others grunted in agreement.

The ship's engines cut off, and the order to disembark came swiftly. The Guardsmen moved in practiced formation, hitting the deck and boarding the trucks with military precision.

The trucks engine started, their wheels tearing into the rough, muddy roads that led inland. The air grew colder the deeper they moved into Latvia, the land looking more desolate by the mile. Forests were stripped bare, fields now filled with the decaying remnants of battles fought long ago.

As the trucks made their way through the mountains, the road narrowed, forcing them into a single-file procession. The tension in the air was thick—everyone knew that something was about to go down. The question was when.

The first sign came quickly.

Gunfire.

The sound shattered the quiet like glass. The first truck was hit, the front end jerking violently as a bullet tore through the windshield, spraying glass and forcing the driver to slam on the brakes. The entire convoy screeched to a halt.

"Ambush!" someone yelled.

Eli barely had time to react before the first explosion went off, a deafening roar that sent the air whistling and rattling in his eardrums. His head snapped to the side, and for a split second, he saw the flash of fire and smoke curling up from the truck ahead. Screams filled the air as men were flung from their seats. Then, chaos.

The demi-humans had appeared.

Freakish, twisted forms, half-human, half-beast, charging from the cover of the forest. They were faster than human, their movements wild. They carried jagged, rusted weapons—swords, axes, and knives—but their most dangerous asset was their speed and unpredictability.

"Fucking hell," Eli muttered under his breath, as he grabbed his rifle and rolled out of the truck. His boots hit the ground with a solid thud, and he crouched low, eyes scanning the trees.

The first bandit came at him—human, but gaunt, with a face twisted in madness. He was holding a musket, but he wasn't aiming. He was charging, desperate to close the distance.

Eli fired.

BANG.

The shot rang out, a harsh bark of thunder. The rebel dropped, his body jerking from the impact, blood spraying from the entry wound. But before Eli could celebrate the kill, another shot rang out, this time closer.

"Move! MOVE!" an officer voice cut through the air like a whip.

"They're everywhere!" Rolf shouted, his voice panicked as he crouched beside Eli, gripping his rifle tight.

Eli's head snapped up. He saw them then—dozens of rebels, both human and demi-human, pouring out of the trees.

Eli fired again, the bullet taking down one of the demi-humans who had lunged at him with an axe. The thing crumpled in a heap, its limbs twitching, blood pooling around it.

"Watch your back!" Rolf shouted as he fired a round into a soldier charging toward him.

Eli dropped another bandit, a man with a jagged knife who came at him with a scream. The knife skittered across the ground as the man fell, and Eli moved to reload. That's when the real nightmare hit.

The biggest demi-human he'd ever seen emerged from the woods. It had arms as thick as tree trunks, skin mottled with scars and burns. It roared, a sound that rattled the trees, and charged straight at Eli.

Eli's heart pounded in his chest. He barely had time to aim before the beast was upon him, swinging a massive club that could crush him in an instant. He dove to the side, narrowly avoiding the blow, but the air whooshed with the force of the swing, and dirt and debris exploded around him.

"Shit!" Eli scrambled to his feet, his rifle forgotten for the moment. He fumbled for his bayonet, yanking it from its holster as the beast closed the gap between them.

It was faster than it looked. It lunged, and Eli only barely managed to sidestep, feeling the brush of its heavy, clawed hand graze his shoulder.

He didn't have time to think. His instincts kicked in. He shoved the bayonet forward, the blade sinking into the beast's side with a sickening crunch. The thing roared in pain and swung its massive arm at him.

The impact sent Eli sprawling to the ground, breath knocked out of him. He gasped for air, feeling the weight of the moment pressing down on him. His hand, slick with blood, found the bayonet again, and this time, with everything he had, he plunged it deep into the creature's chest.

It screamed one last time before collapsing onto him.