[GK]The End of Sacrifices

Note: whoops I did it again. Can’t believe I have to read history materials to write this. Again, I fully planned to write toxic yaoi before actually started to write. Somehow the yaoi part is not yummy in my opinion. But the history was very accurate. I researched what kind of dumpling fillings they got in Dalian, and it’s 鲅鱼.😅. damn thing haunted my uni days. but Vasily? U gotta eat when you gotta eat.

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Vasily sat in the hole, cleaning his rifle with what little he had left.

The war had stripped them bare. Grease was a luxury now, and anyone with a drop would drink it rather than waste it on a weapon. Clean rugs were gone too. Anything clean was reserved for bandages, for wounds that never seemed to stop bleeding. All he could do was wipe the stock and barrel with his filthy sleeve, over and over, as if the motion itself could make a difference.

The cold, damp air seeped into everything, warping the rifle's internal parts until they became useless. The trigger might freeze at the worst possible moment. So he still kept at it, if only to keep the Mosin-Nagant somewhat dry. It was a symbol of pride—not every man had the honor to carry one. He held it close, cradling it like a lover, though its cold, unyielding frame felt more like the body of one long gone.

Outside, the cannon fire roared without end, denied anyone even a moment of rest. All night, the explosions echoed like mountains collapsing, their fortress crumbling down piece by piece. The flares from the blasts lit up the night sky, blurring the boundary between darkness and dawn, delusion and dream.

Time itself had become a stranger to him. At the start of the siege, he could mark the days by the sun's position. When autumn arrived, the alternations between the attacks—cannons and charges—provided a pattern. But later, as smoke covered the sky and the assaults grew erratic and persistent, he measured the days only by the intensity of his hunger.

Now, even that was gone. His stomach and lower abdomen had ached for so long. With acid, his intestines were devouring themselves. He could barely feel the pain anymore. Perhaps they had finished the job, leaving him only an empty husk.

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