[Ishmael]

  I made no detours.

  The dungeons and small blotches that separated me from the larger clusters did not interest me. Small game is meant for small men.

  I could hear it before I saw it. Pounding like cannons, explosions riddled the sky with bright lights. The sounds could only make me smile. What a great war they were making over there. It was enticing to the soul like the scent of a fresh baked pie. I rode those beautiful notes all the way to my destination.

  Three iron fortresses sat in a triangular formation. In between these structures was endless, brutal carnage. Soldiers killed and died and rose to kill and die and rise again. The Vikings of old would have dropped to their knees in joy and exalted Odin’s name.

  This was Valhalla.

  I couldn’t destroy this place nor bring these demons into my endless void. No, they must be venerated. Finally, a group that truly understands what the point of all this is. I needed to introduce myself and compliment them on their heightened ideology. But, most importantly, I must get myself invited to this great game.

  I landed next to the nearest group that I could find and waltzed over to their position. A trio of demons poked their heads out of a foxhole, a zombie, a set of living armor, and a rooster. Three guns rose up from behind the cover and pointed directly at me.

  “Halt, who are you, black-skinned invader?” The chicken demanded with a harsh tone.

  “Oh, right, the scales. Apologies for invading your great game,” I apologized. “My name is Ishmael.”

  “What is that? Jewish?” The suit of armor asked. “Are you Jewish?”

  “An Ethiopian perhaps,” the chicken reasoned with a nod as all three of them cocked their guns and aimed it at my head. “More the reason to get rid of you.”

  An explosion rattled the battlefield and the trio ducked to avoid the blast. I could see a flash of an insignia on their green uniforms. An eagle perched atop a swastika. That was something that I had expected to find sooner but had forgotten about. Of course these guys were down here, it’d be disappointing if they weren’t.”

  “Hold on,” I requested, pointing at their uniforms. “Are you guys Nazis?”

  “We’re patriots,” the zombie spat. “Soldiers of the Wehrmacht.

  “Members of the Ubermensch,” the suit of armor added. “We’re the ones that will inherit this land and turn it into our utopia. Now, get out of here, you’re staining our glorious combat with your foreign stench.”

  One of them fired their gun. The mana bullet bounced off my armor and ricocheted off into the distance. I casually brushed off the impact wound as the three looked at each other with confused faces.

  A light bulb lit up in my head. I had an opportunity to meet someone that everyone said was burning in the deepest pits of Hell. That sounded like a fun little distraction. I killed, like, a dozen people and got a nice little boon when I started here. What would the person who oversaw many of the atrocities of WW2 get?

  “Does that mean that-“

  Shit, what was his name again? I can see a blurry version of his face in my mind. I can picture the outfit, the hat especially. I can imagine him gesticulating wildly in black and white film in a city full of his party’s iconography. I can imagine the tiny little mustache that hangs below his nose. I remember people invoking his name to attack political ideas that they didn’t agree with. But, I don’t remember his name at all.

  “What?” The chicken demanded. “What does what mean?”

  “You know, your leader,” I said, pointing to my upper lip where a mustache would hypothetically grow. “Is he here?”

  “Of course he’s here,” the zombie answered like I was someone who was just lobotomized. “You can’t think of his name, can you?”

  “I suppose not.”

  Another bullet bounced off of my scales. I looked at the chicken who was cursing under his breath. At least they were trying.

  A large mass whistled through the air and the trio ducked into their crater. A magical bomb exploded not too far away from us. It sparked and shot lightning in multiple directions. A stray bolt moved my way, but I slapped the light away like it was a pesky fly.

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  I surveyed the battlefield and couldn’t help but feel confused. All of the demons wore the same uniform regardless of if they were friend or foe. Iron eagle was slaying iron eagle.

  “Who exactly are you fighting?” I asked. “You all kind of looked the same from above.”

  “Soldiers of the false leader,” the chicken spat with vitriol. “They are non-Aryans wearing our uniforms and trying to upend our movement by putting a fake at the head of our party. He’s going to ruin our dreams of obtaining our perfect future.”

  “What does that future look like?” I asked, expecting to hear something that Boss Raymond would say in the cells. Something about preventing the death of whites or some other meth-addled conspiracy he picked up from the internet.

  “We will make a place for only Aryans. Then, we will invade Earth and reconquer it in the name of our new Reich. Then, we will make it so that only Aryans can procreate. We must create a perfect world.”

  “Have you heard about the Great White Replacement?” The suit of armor said at a near whisper. “You all are plotting to take our women and make them have inferior children. You are ruining the future of mankind.”

  Okay, exactly something that Boss Raymond would say. It was surreal, talking in this realm of inhumanity with three white supremacists. One was white, yes, by technicality that it was feathers, but the other two were gray.

  “How do you know who was originally what?” I asked with confusion.

  “You can just tell. They have the right spirit about them,” the chicken said as the other two nodded in agreement. “And…And! We’re going to make ourselves look human again so it won’t be a problem.”

  “I’m Aryan,” I lied, pointing at my chest. I’m pretty sure I had some German heritage, but I think my mom said I was mostly Irish with a smattering of Italian. She was really into that ancestry thing at one point. She wanted to see if we were related to anyone important.

  We were not.

  “No you’re not,” the zombie denied. “Absolutely not at all. Southern European, at best. And that is really stretching the term ‘at best.’”

  I sighed. This place definitely did not need to be venerated. The initial joy I thought I’d feel seeing a bunch of battle-crazed warriors drunk on ale and joy had all but faded away. I put up with these sorts of discussions in prison when it was a matter of survival. I had to pick a faction and these guys were the only ones that I was permitted to join. But, now that I was so far away from that life, it all just looked so sad and boring.

  Is this really something people think is worth fighting for? A future where only they exist? A sterile place where they plan to deprive anyone of exciting combat. It’s just a boot stomping over and over and over again until there is nothing left.

  Boring.

  Another bullet bounced off of me.

  “You guys are dreadfully weak,” I scolded as I started walking towards them. “Please tell me that your precious leader has some power to him.”

  “Of course he does,” the zombie shouted. “He’s the strongest demon in Hell and, once we punish these false rulers, we will take over the pinnacle with ease. You will all see. You will all come to respect us.”

  “So, if I beat him, would that mean that I’m the Fuhrer?”

  “No,” the chicken answered, shaking his head vigorously. “I see where this is going. No, no, no. We can’t go through this all again. We can’t have another false ruler. We’re already too fractured as it is.”

  “It would really complicate things,” the zombie agreed. “Besides, your form doesn’t even have any connections to him. At least the other ones tried to trick us. One is an eagle, another is a man carved of oak, and ours is a German Shephard, his favorite animal. Where does a lizard fit into his mythos? You can’t win because you’re not him.”

  “Well, you got me there,” I replied.

  “Also, the Fuhrer wouldn’t have given himself a Hebrew name,” the suit of armor added. “It’s kind of an insult that you thought you could even take the position.”

  “What are the other three named?”

  “Fuhrer,” they all replied in unison.

  “Right,” I said with a nod.

  I’d heard enough. I reached the zombie and kicked as hard as I could. The rotted flesh of the demon spewed in every direction and filled the foxhole with his viscera. Two more bullets plinked off my scales. They didn’t learn anything at all.

  “You know he shot himself, right?” I said to the surviving two. “Your glorious leader killed himself in a bunker because he was too scared to face defeat.”

  “No he didn’t,” the suit of armor denied.

  I punched downward and crushed the suit of armor like an empty soda can. I shook my hand a couple times, shedding loose metal with each flick of my fingers.

  “Yeah, he did,” I asserted. “I lived after the war. American; winning side.”

  “It’s just a lie you made to besmirch him,” the chicken said definitively. “That’s just what the Bolsheviks say to get us riled up.”

  “There are communists here?”

  “Yeah, just over there,” the chicken, pointing to a different set of fortresses attacking each other with magical bombs. “They’re infighting over which version of red sickness is best. Morons. When we get the right Fuhrer in charge, those guys are first to be removed.”

  “Why are you talking like you’ll live to see that day?”

  “It doesn’t matter if you kill us,” the chicken sneered. “We’ll just keep coming back and chipping away at you until there is nothing left.”

  “We’ll see how long that faith lasts.”

  I butchered the chicken, leaving three fresh carcasses for my ability to consume. I looked out at the violence in front of me. I should feel excited that there was more violence to indulge in. But, honestly, I was just ready for this entire place to turn into a pleasant silence. I needed to hang my hopes that someone here was worth fighting.

  I maximized my magic and summoned [Burning Rain] to fall down upon the battlefield. I could already hear the screams as demons vacated their poorly covered positions to seek out the one that was causing them so much pain.

  I spread my arms wide. I invited them to find me. Please, stop me if you can. Use as many bodies as you have available. I desperately needed them.

  “Nourish me, so that I may become the atom bomb that you surrendered too early to witness personally.”