Flames of Passion

Descending from the top of the slope, Mark fell back into the trench just as a pained scream sounded from above him. A soldier tumbled down the dirt next to his feet, a bloody hole on the corpse's head. 

Up above, the mass of approaching enemies closed in as the anxiety on his allies' faces became more apparent. The way things were, his side was doomed to be overrun by the well-strategized assault. 

However, he had plans to stop and push back against the onslaught. 

He extended his mind past his body. While it was hard to see what was happening, Mark could instinctively tell that an intangible, invisible link had been created from his mind to those of the people around him. 

Then, like electricity trailing across a wire he instilled the feelings he wanted to across the link and into his victims.

It didn't even take a minute before the appearance of the soldiers had changed. From uncertain and dreadful despair, a sudden kindle was ignited in their expressions as their movements started to be filled with an uncanny vitality. Rather, it seemed as if they were caught up in a sudden rush of madness and exhilaration. 

They broke off from their positions near the trench and while still shooting at the coming foes, they approached their enemies, fears, and deaths with utter insanity. 

The scarlet sun blazed in their enraged eyes, reflecting a malevolent shine. Their screams neared the hurling intensity and pitch of shrieks. This ghastly sight transpired as a hundred men charged at the sea of soldiers. 

Mark knew that such a scale of opposition was not nearly enough to fend off the attack. 

And so, he extended his mind even further. 

Reaching out to the soldiers he had linked his mind to, he used them as a foundation to further grow his influence. He could feel his ability being channeled through those he had already influenced and spreading to new victims like a relentless plague. 

More screams erupted from the trench. Instigated men hurriedly climbed out from the shelter of the earth and confronted the opposition with bold, radiant rage. 

His influence spread further, growing with each new victim and profligating until he felt everyone on his side become a puppet to his fanned-out passion. 

A sea of men from his own side had come to meet the sea of the opposition. 

The two ends approached while bullets razed both forces down. Pained and maniacal shrieks drowned in the cacophony of the dead man's land - a name that was now being lived up to. 

Soon enough, the distance between the opposing armies became null as thousands of men collided into a calamitous center of savage killing. 

Mark watched this all happen for a second before turning around and heading to a specific area in his trench. 

He approached the heavy artillery on his side and saw the operators of the equipment idling. 

They took notice of him as soon as he stretched his mind, sensing authority in his figure. 

"Sir, what do you want from us?" 

Looking at the person who had just talked, Mark tried to slightly deepen his voice while responding. 

"You all have orders to fire on the enemies." 

From what he could see, the operators were stunned. They looked at each other with conflicted glances, whispering not so quietly as the details of their conversation were easy to make out. 

"Doesn't that mean we are going to be shooting at our own men? The commander or major would never give such an immoral request... right?" 

The two bickered worryingly for a while before eventually coming to a consensus. 

Mark was responded to by the man who had first taken his acquaintance. 

"Sorry, but an order like that needs to be said by either the commander or the major. Sorry for the inconvenience." 

Smiling, Mark waved off their worries. 

"No problem!" 

His thoughts churned inwardly. 

'Now what? I was planning to exterminate the enemy through shared casualties but it seems like that will be harder than I expected. Now that they know who I am it will be even more difficult to lie to them...' 

He froze for a second. 

'But maybe I can fix that.' 

Remembering how he felt whenever he forgot the brunette's name, Mark bet on the major's theory that all Blessed people have the same capabilities.

His intent washed over the operators as their gazes dulled for a second before light returned to them. 

By the time they had fully regained their consciousness, he had already disappeared from their sight.

'What were we talking about again?' 

The operators shrugged and continued idling. 

Meanwhile, Mark had reentered the tunnel where the enemies had first started their ambush not so long ago. 

There were a few important things left in the darkened place. 

In the relative darkness, Mark scoured around while trying to find the specific body he was looking for. 

It came into sight. 

A bullet was impeded in his neck, eyes widened in betrayal and shock, never to have fully closed since. 

The major's dead body was right there. It was hard to get his order across because he lacked substantial credibility. 

That could be fixed. 

Mark stripped the upper part of his uniform off and took the clothing from his victim. 

Bloodied as they were, the attire for the credit of survival shone amidst everything. 

Mark adorned Paul's uniform and went off, back to the artillery operators. 

On seeing his menacing figure, the operators had no hesitation to greet him with utmost courtesy. Mark nodded and came forward. 

"As the newly appointed major, I order you to fire on the enemies with your artillery, regardless of what may or may not be in the way. 

He stretched his mind and incited even more insanity and mad passion in the eyes of the artillery operators. 

A blaze overtook their vision as they unhesitantly prepared to unleash wrath on the battlefield. 

Under the red sun, Mark watched as artillery shells fired into the middle of the capitulating crowd.