Section 265: Facing Directly (Part 3)

Mason Wyman leaned in the corner of the trench, his ordinary appearance and lean figure, listening to the sounds around him—completely silent trenches were fundamentally abnormal.

Someone had cast a silence enchantment, probably a very capable individual, but these damn things never differentiate between friend and foe. Do these blasted Chaos creatures not need ears? Or can their sense of smell replace everything?

They're truly some damned mongrels.

It must be so, Mason drew his Revolver from his waist, extended the mirror shard in his right hand out of the corner. There was nothing moving behind him in the trench, and a friendly soldier who had been shot lay against the side of the trench; he had been dead for some time now.

My lord, I pray to you from here.

Mason leaned on the trench, watching as the air in the mirror slightly warped, growing increasingly distinct. He extended his left hand with the Revolver out of the trench and pulled the trigger toward the empty trench.