【エロ動画】FallenSoldier【アダルトAVアニメ・ゲーム】

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(English product description provided by the creator.)

## Fallen Soldier

The biting wind whipped at Sergeant Elias Thorne’s face, stinging his eyes and freezing the tears that threatened to spill.  He knelt beside the body, the stiffening form a stark contrast to the frantic fluttering of a lone raven perched on a nearby, snow-laden branch.  The raven’s obsidian eyes seemed to pierce the grim tableau, mirroring the hollowness in Elias’s own soul.  Private Thomas Ashton, barely a man, lay sprawled in the crimson stain blooming on the pristine white snow. His young face, frozen in a silent scream, was a testament to the brutal efficiency of the enemy’s sniper.

Elias had known Thomas for barely a month, yet the boy’s infectious optimism had brightened even the darkest days in the unforgiving landscape of the Eastern Front.  Now, that light was extinguished, snuffed out by a single, precise shot.  The weight of responsibility, a crushing burden Elias had carried for years, felt heavier than ever.  He was the squad leader, the one responsible for their safety, and he had failed.  Thomas’s death was a brand, seared onto his conscience.

He carefully closed the boy’s eyes, the pale skin almost translucent in the weak winter sun.  A silent prayer escaped his lips, a plea to a God who seemed distant and uncaring in the face of such senseless loss.  He pulled out his small, worn leather-bound journal, its pages filled with meticulous sketches and terse entries detailing the horrors and fleeting moments of beauty witnessed during the seemingly endless war.  He would add another entry, a stark, unforgiving account of Thomas's last moments.

The war had become a blur of mud, blood, and the constant threat of death.  The initial idealism, the noble cause they had been told they were fighting for, had long since eroded, replaced by a gnawing sense of futility.  Each passing day chipped away at their humanity, leaving behind a hardened shell, a creature forged in the fires of conflict.  Elias, despite his stoicism, felt the relentless erosion.  He saw it in the vacant stares of his men, heard it in their hollow laughter, and felt it in the growing numbness within himself.

He tucked the journal back into his pocket, the weight a small comfort in the vast emptiness.  The sounds of the war – the distant rumble of artillery, the crackle of gunfire, the mournful wind – were a constant reminder of their precarious existence.  Yet, there were moments of stark beauty that pierced the grim reality.  The ethereal glow of the aurora borealis painting the night sky in vibrant hues, the quiet camaraderie shared around a meager fire, the unexpected kindness shown by a stranger – these were the fragile blossoms blooming amidst the desolate wasteland of war.

As he prepared to radio command, reporting Thomas’s death, a wave of exhaustion washed over him.  Sleep had become a luxury he could rarely afford, haunted by the relentless barrage of nightmares.  Images of fallen comrades, their faces contorted in agony, danced behind his eyelids, refusing to let him rest.  He longed for the simple comfort of home, a place he now only remembered in fragmented, bittersweet memories.  A home where the only sounds were the gentle rustling of leaves and the cheerful chirping of birds, a stark contrast to the cacophony of death that surrounded him.

The radio crackled to life, the harsh voice of Captain Miller cutting through the silence.  Elias reported the loss, his voice devoid of emotion, a mere recitation of facts.  Miller's response was brief, formal, devoid of any personal expression of sympathy – a reflection of the chilling indifference of war itself.  There would be no ceremony, no grand eulogy for Private Ashton.  Just another name added to the ever-growing list of the fallen.

After completing his duty, Elias found himself wandering away from the main group, seeking a solitary space to mourn.  He stumbled upon a small, secluded clearing, where a lone wildflower stubbornly pushed its way through the snow.  A fragile symbol of resilience in the face of adversity, it mirrored the tenacity of the human spirit, even amidst the devastation of war.

He sat beside it, the flower’s delicate beauty a poignant contrast to the grim reality of his existence.  He reached into his pocket, pulling out a small, smooth stone he had collected from a nearby stream.  It was a simple object, yet it held a profound significance.  He placed it gently on the ground next to the flower, a silent tribute to Thomas Ashton, a fallen soldier whose life, though cut short, had left an indelible mark on his heart.  The raven on the branch ruffled its feathers, a single, mournful caw echoing in the desolate landscape, a lament for the lost, a testament to the enduring presence of grief in the face of unending war.  The weight of his duty remained, but in that quiet moment, amidst the snow and the silence, Elias found a sliver of peace, a fragile hope amidst the ruins of his world.  The war continued, but for a brief, precious moment, he allowed himself to grieve.