Published at 20th of December 2025 8:43 am

Chapter 791: Heavens Fury

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Bruno von Hohenzollern lay crouched behind a crag within the Hyblaean mountains; the subdued stripes of a major now adorned the top of his uniform’s shoulder tabs.

Not that they could currently be seen beneath his camouflaged mountain suit, one whose pattern blended the snow patches with the earthen tones of the Hyblaean mountains during the winter months.

A short beard clung neatly to his face, while his neck remained woolly with stubble. Evidently, he hadn’t shaved in weeks, maintaining only the bare minimum of his hygiene. And even then, it would appear a few days had passed since his last neck shave.

But who could blame him? He and his men had been fighting to halt the Allied advance through these mountains for months. And they had gotten no reprieve since it all began.

Despite being a prince of the Reich, and its future Kaiser, he was out on the front lines of war.

Bruno the Younger did not speak, not initially; instead he gazed down his optic, getting a good sight on the target that was rapidly approaching.

By the looks of it, an American armored convoy was struggling to push up the shallow hills that the Sicilians had the nerve to call mountains.

He could only shake his head and scoff as he got on his radio and alerted the rest of his company.

"The idiots put the liberties in front of the column. They’re now trying to trudge through the mud and gravel. Targets appear to be two kilometers out, maybe three. What do you guys think? You want to approach, or call in CAS?"

The wire instantly got interrupted as a voice that Bruno was not expecting came over.

"Belay that, Major. Orders have come down from the top. Hold your position; do not advance. A payload is inbound on hostile targets, and if you aggress any further, you will be within danger close range."

Bruno immediately understood what these words meant and collapsed against the crag he was crouched against.

"Fucking Christ... It’s finally over...."

After letting out a sigh of relief, Bruno got on his comms and immediately relayed the orders to his company.

"This is Major von Hohenzollern. Orders have come from high command, hold position and hunker down, they’re dropping a big one on those fuckers downrange. Just smile, wave, and enjoy the show, boys, because things are about to get real hot around here."

The 120 men hiding in the mountains instantly relaxed as they heard the roaring in the distance.

Bruno himself couldn’t help but reach into the back pocket of his load-bearing equipment and pull out his mess kit.

He began to prepare himself a small cup of coffee, the kind only a soldier could love, half-burnt grounds, lukewarm water, and the taste of metal and misery.

But it was hot, and it was his, and that was enough. In the mountains, on the front lines of war, sometimes it was simple rituals, like a warm cup of bitter coffee that kept a soldier sane.

He had just taken the first sip when the horizon changed.

The first streak cut across the late-afternoon sky like God dragging a claw through the clouds. Then another. And another. Soon the heavens looked as though they were unraveling into white-hot threads.

"Showtime..." Bruno muttered.

The mountains vibrated before the sound arrived. A deep, rolling thunder, a sound no aircraft on earth could make, but was certain to make the marrow in your bones twitch.

Then, the world ahead of them disappeared.

Dozens of impacts tore into the American column and the surrounding hills. Massive spheres of incandescent fire blossomed upward like artificial suns.

A wall of pressure slammed into the crags where Bruno’s company hunkered down. Helmets rattled. Loose stones skittered across the ledges.

Some men swore, others prayed, and a small brazen few laughed, depending on their temperament.

One of the younger troopers shouted over the ringing in his ears.

"Sir! What the hell are those?!"

Bruno couldn’t help but smirk without looking away.

"That would be heaven’s wrath...."

The firestorms merged into a single rolling inferno, the air itself folding inward as the thermobaric clouds consumed every molecule of oxygen in a half-kilometer radius. Vehicles simply vanished. Steel turned liquid. Human shapes dissolved in an instant of white heat.

What followed was strangely quiet.

A drifting haze. Ash falling like dirty snow. The faint whine of super-heated air collapsing back toward the center of the blasts.

Bruno holstered his radio and finished the last sip of his cooling coffee.

"Well, boys," he said calmly, rising to his feet, "looks like the war in Sicily just got a whole lot shorter."

He brushed snow and dust off his jacket and slung his rifle.

"High Command finally stopped playing defense."

Behind him, the men stared at the smoldering valley below, awestruck.

Ahead of him, Bruno started down the slope. His men chased after him, slow, smooth, but fast all the same.

Their orders were simple: to ensure there were no survivors from the attack just now, and to regroup with the Panzergrenadier divisions that most certainly would be pressing the advance now that the bulk of the Allied front lines had been absolutely incinerated.

All the while, jet interceptors screeched through the air like soaring eagles, and missiles flew further past them, beyond the hills and into the valley below. Bruno could only halt once more, and gaze into the distance as he and his men began to descend from the highest peaks.

Sicily was set aflame. Mushroom cloud after mushroom cloud rose across the island. Vaporizing allied defenses where they were thickest and allowing German armored units to push through with impunity.

As he witnessed the scorching pillars of burning air rise one after another, he could not help but perform the sign of the cross, as his men crept up by his side, bewildered and awestruck simultaneously.

"Is this it.... Is this the end of the world?"

Bruno the Younger could only shake his head, recovering from his own reverence, and dread as he did so.

"No... It’s the birth of a new one...."

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