Eve patiently waited, crouched in a bush. He was far away from allied forces, about a kilometer away. It was pitch black, with only the stars and the crescent moon providing light. He was at the edge of a clearing, where the trees from the forest rapidly eased up, allowing grass to be the dominant plant.

  The withdrawals were kicking in.

  It had been four days since he last tasted demonic flesh, and his body was quite rudely reminding him of that fact. His stomach ached, his muscles fatigued, and his vision was blurry. Normally, he would never do something this risky, but the hunger was too much. Besides, normal wasn't something anyone had experienced ever since the war started- ever since the gates were opened.

  He continued to wait, being as still as he could, making as little noise as possible. Demonic dog-like creatures were known to patrol areas between the lines. He was hoping to be lucky and stumble onto one such patrol. He's tried doing this several times before. Each time, he ventured farther and farther as he found no signs of any demons.

  He was getting desperate; they all were. Command had told them to stay put, which likely meant an upcoming assault. But it also meant fewer opportunities to feast. Fewer chances to satiate the hunger all the soldiers felt, at least those still alive. All soldiers relied upon the gifts of the demonic to make it through combat. The power it brought upon the person: too great to ignore, too critical for those on the front lines, too necessary to win the war – or at least continue fighting it. Without it, the lines would fall, the soldiers falter, and humanity would be propelled into an apocalypse once more.

  Eve heard a snap. He turned his head slowly, like a predator who had just sensed its prey. He could see the beast now, less than a hundred meters from his hiding spot. Typically, demons were the ones that ate the humans, but the past seven years have proven the contrary.

  The creature was approaching, sniffing the ground through a singular nostril in the center of its snout. To call it a dog would be a disservice to canines everywhere, but it was the closest description that its behavior would suggest. Demons are much too varied to categorize into groups like animals, with even broad categorization like mammal or reptile being inapplicable, and so the soldiers started referring to them based on role rather than appearance.

  The four-legged abomination was approaching. Pure red eyes on top of a crocodilian-like snout filled with razor-sharp teeth. Its flesh was the color of burned wood, and its back was hunched, producing an almost camel-like shape. Each leg ended in a series of claws similar to those of a bear. How it could move around so quickly was beyond Eve, as he had seen packs of these creatures and others like it charge machine-gun nests at blistering speeds.

  He tensed up his body, preparing to pounce as the demon drew closer. He hadn't opted to bring his rifle or pistol to this hunt, as its shot would alert the rest of the demons that were surely near. Instead, he clutched a long, straight-bladed knife, which he had carried throughout his deployment. The beast was approaching, likely smelling him or his trail.

  Though their sense of smell was good, Eve had learned that their eyesight was better and the creature's primary method of observation. They differed from the previous types; whoever was controlling hell's armies brought out as the previous creature used almost solely relied upon smell, and the current beasts would likely differ from whatever demon hell would send against the soldiers of the first gate next, after the current one was wiped out. Something that many soldiers paid dearly for before the current forces stationed here at the first gate figured it out.

  The thing was almost upon him. Approaching him from a distance of ten meters, its muscular flesh was visible even in the pale moonlight. Eve was salivating at the thought of biting into the soon-to-be carcass and consuming the flesh inside. nine, eight, seven, meters away now as the demon lifted its head and started to peer through the darkness around it in search of him.

  "Just a little closer, " thought Eve as the demonic not-dog kept approaching, slowly panning its head left and right, trying to find what it had previously smelled. It crept closer still, scanning as its nose was only good enough to pinpoint a general direction, and couldn't differentiate between Eve and his shirt that he had laid down in a nearby bush, solely for the reason of luring the demon closer.

  It was incredibly close now, almost near enough to reach in a single jump. Almost- but not quite.

  It took one final step closer, taking a moment to look around, and for a brief second, it looked away from Eve’s position. He tensed up all his muscles, his mouth begging for a taste of the flesh.

  Eve lunged at the creature.

  He landed on its back and -with a single strike - embedded the knife in the demon's skull. About the size of a large dog, it struggled for a few seconds before finally succumbing to its fate.

  Eve grabbed the carcass and quickly dragged it back to the bush. He didn’t have much time, as the smell of the kill would likely attract more of those creatures. He didn’t need long, however. Even though soldiers were advised against eating demons raw, no disease had yet been found in the meat of the creatures. He breathed in and bit down on the neck. It was his second favorite part.

  Many a discussion had been had between him and his- most now deceased- squadmates about the second-tastiest part of a demon. Most preferred the ribs or the legs, but Eve had always loved the neck. Something about the way the spine snapped as he bit into it brought Eve a satisfaction like no other. The sound of ripping flesh and the smell of blood entered the air as he devoured the neck. The flesh was stretched thin before then snapping, as if a starving wild animal finally found a meal. With each consecutive bite, he could feel the power growing more and more within him. Biting down, he felt the spinal cord of the creature shatter with an increased fervor. The withdrawals were gone, replaced instead with a euphoria that went above everything else. His mouth was bleeding from chewing bone fragments, but he didn't care. The feeling of power, the knowledge of strength, the sensation it brought upon Eve was like no other. He swallowed the flesh, the bones, and consumed all that was once attaching the demon's head to the rest of its body.

  It was back. That which Eve missed so much was finally back. He traced his finger along the head of the demon. Everywhere his finger touched split, as if it were butter being cut by the sharpest bayonet in the entirety of humanity's armies.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  He began to smile, which turned into an uncontrollable grin. Eve could almost laugh out loud at how happy he felt. He wanted nothing more than to dance and sing and rip apart the flesh of all those opposing him. The world seemed to fill with color as he devoured the last bit of neck, resulting in a bite-sized crevice in between the shoulders. He picked up the carcass and began carrying it back to friendly lines. The strength the flesh had given him was more than enough to make the journey back in half the time he spent reaching his hunting spot, even though he was carrying significantly more weight. Eve wasn't worried about the watchers on duty turning him in, as he had paid the ones stationed next to his tent to look the other way. He was going to surprise his squad- all that were left- with the kill tomorrow morning. And they, too, would get to experience the high he had felt, consuming demons and curing them of their own withdrawals, which they were undoubtedly suffering through.

  —--------------------

  Adam woke up at 7:01 AM on the dot, like he usually did. He marked the calendar's date, September 6th, 1947, like he usually did. He made himself a cup of coffee, half milk, like he usually did. He looked down at his desk and did not sit down, breaking his traditional rhythm.

  Today was the day he gets to make a decision, rather than follow a blind order like he was always taught. Today is the day he would be able to make a meaningful decision and influence the war in some way. He knew that this was all lies his head told him. All that his decisions would determine would be which of the two regiments sent to reinforce the frontlines would have the higher casualty rates. The ones sent to reinforce Gate 1 would suffer 15% more casualties than those sent to Gate 2 if averages were to hold- a decision that might impact the lives of the soldiers, but did little for Adam himself. It was the only reason he became an officer and took up the offer given to him by the core. The son of a famous officer during the Great War joined the stratagem and helped humanity win the war against demons.

  It was all a lie. He was but a propaganda piece, and the decisions he so badly wanted to matter, he never got the chance to take. It was always someone else pulling the strings, someone else making the decisions. Even now, this sole task regulated to him was predetermined, as he knew from the moment he got it what the final verdict would be. The French soldiers would be sent to Gate 1 for the purposes of strengthening political connections and showing trust between allies. The Western-Russian unit would be sent to Gate 2, as the top brass didn't care nearly as much about half of a shattered nation, which likely wasn't going to emerge as a world power anytime soon. And so, they were delegated to the less prestigious gate, the ones not next to any major, or any cities in fact. Situated somewhere in the forests of Spain, it was known as the least important gate in Europe. No glory or anything to be found there, the only purpose of the soldiers there is to contain the demons to make sure they don't leak out to actually important places. Perimeter duty, as the soldiers fighting there called it. The frontline hadn't changed in two months and wasn't likely to change anytime soon. It was all but abandoned, with a new shipment of soldiers being sent to replace the losses of the weary defenders once every couple of months whenever the generals remembered it existed, which wasn't often. Adam sighed as he signed a document sentencing the second regiment to their fate of tiring and tedious fighting, which in the end likely wouldn't even matter, as the war most certainly did not depend on those positions. He picked up the papers and went over to the communications department to get them issued.

  7:31 am, Adam headed toward the shared breakfast mess hall. He wasn't prominent enough to receive a private breakfast and so was forced to convene with others of similar rank whenever he was hungry. The menu was standard, the same thing as yesterday, and the same thing would be put out tomorrow. Eggs in all forms, bread, and demon. Adam never went for the last option. He didn't want its promised power. He doubted it could give him what he wanted, and besides, the addiction and subsequent withdrawals weren't something he wanted to deal with on a daily basis. And so, as usual, he scooped up a serving of scrambled eggs, two boiled eggs, and a piece of bread. Water would wash everything down as alcohol wasn't to Adam's liking. He sat down at an empty table, enjoying the silence he knew would be broken when others woke up, and the mess hall would fill. Fifteen minutes later, a fellow officer entered the hall, filled up his plate, and sat down next to Adam. Sam, as he was known, was one of the few people that Adam talked to outside of duty and the only person Adam considered to be a friend.

  "Did you hear the news?" Sam asked Adam while chomping down on a piece of demon. Adam heard the sound of bones cracking as Sam bit what seemed to be a leg. Not caring that he bit into bone, Sam continued to chew the fragments still in his mouth, grinding them down with his teeth. Picking up the remainder of the meat with his bare hand, Sam laid it into his mouth and bit down like an alligator on its prey. Adam heard the sounds of more bones snapping for a few seconds before they were replaced by the sound of teeth grinding against one another. It seemed that the meat was more gamey and tougher than the one served last week. Adam guessed it had come from the lowest class of demons. Some minor creature that hell replaced often, almost on a consistent bi-weekly basis, in an attempt to halt the gate forces' assault.

  "You mean about the date finally being decided on for the Big push?" Adam answered. Everyone knew it was coming. Both on the frontlines and in the stratagem. Gates 1 and 3 had been amassing forces and staying still for a reason. The Big Push was the nickname given to the planned offensive, which would be the largest one yet. It was supposed to be half the distance to Gates 1 and 3, encircling them tighter than before and reaching closer to hell's entry point. The full plan was named Operation Lasso and consisted of three major offensives to finally reach two of the thirteen gates. It was why West Russia even sent a regiment to reinforce British forces as a show of support for the plan. It was why Britain was shipping guns and ammunition to them in return.

  "Two days from now, we will be watching humanity progress towards peace," Sam said with a glint in his eyes. Whether it was from the thought of the offensive or from the demonic flesh, Adam couldn't tell.

  "Indeed," Adam agreed, "Let's hope it will be a successful and not too costly endeavor. One without friendly fire."

  "Ah, I'm sure the casualty rates are exaggerated," responded Sam, eyes still glinting. "I highly doubt trained soldiers would turn so easily on each other. A few bad eggs that caused a spread of rumors is all."

  "Of course," Adam said, "they are surely exaggerations."

  He was lying. Adam was privy to casualty reports as part of his station, and if even half of what he read was true, it might spell failure for the plan. Average casualty rates were at 60%, which in and of itself wasn't the worrying bit. Not when it came to this type of war, at least. What deeply concerned Adam was that a reported half of the casualties were due not to demons but to incidents of soldiers shooting each other. It was said that if a regular consumer of demonic flesh- which most of the frontline soldiers were- went too long without their fix, there was a chance they would go mad and kill anyone they perceived to be in their way in an attempt to find and consume more flesh.

  Possessed, as they were called, were supposedly rampant in the trenches on the frontlines, killing friendlies in a crazed state of withdrawal. Once they got their fix, it was said they returned to normal, and most even regret their actions. Regardless of conscience, once out of their crazed state, they either get court martialed and sent out first during a charge, or are outright executed by whichever officer they are under. Having this many soldiers all dependent on demonic flesh this close together, it seemed like the perfect place for Possessed to show up and wreak havoc.

  Adam and Sam finished their meals in silence before heading over to the war room for a meeting. This was the last time to strategize before the offensive, and also where they would be assigned their station and task for it. Undoubtedly important work, but it was not something Adam looked forward to. For he was, once again, preparing to follow orders and ‘do his part’ as the propaganda posters said. But he wasn't doing a part only he could do, one that mattered; rather, Adam was doing a part anyone of similar station to him could do. And just like the finalized morning decision, he knew that whatever he was tasked with would end up feeling meaningless.

  —--------------------

  I was hungry. I needed it. I needed the flesh. It has been far too long. I turned to my last and only friend. The only source of truth left.

  "They are hiding it from you. They know you need it and so they are depriving you of it," he told me.

  "What should I do then, Lucy?" I asked.

  "You know exactly what. Pick me up and use me. Make them pay for keeping it away from you."

  "Yes, Lucy, you are right. I should shoot the next person between me and flesh."

  I smelled it. The stench of a demon wafted down the trench. There was demonic flesh that someone brought out this late into the night. I grabbed her, holding her stock tightly to my body. The ridges of her body, purpose-built to kill, were always a comfort to me.

  "You smell that, Lucy?"

  "I told you they had it and were keeping it from you. We need it. You deserve to have it."

  "Yes, Lucy, you are right. When day breaks, we are going to get what's rightfully ours."