Chapter 1
Part 1 – Before Death
Location: Berlin, Germany
Time: 2135 Hours, 18 August 2035
The soft hiss of the espresso machine filled the small apartment as Erich Stahl leaned over the counter, watching the last few drops of dark liquid fall into his cup. Turkish coffee. His one stubborn indulgence. He liked the ritual of it—the slow boil, the rich aroma, the silence it demanded.
The apartment was modern but lived-in. One wall held shelves of retro board games, mostly historical war simulators. Another had a smart projector silently cycling through muted news feeds. Ukraine. Poland. The Caucasus. Always on fire. Always some new flashpoint. Erich had stopped watching with sound months ago.
He took the coffee and moved to the window, looking out over the darkened Berlin skyline. Neon advertisements flickered between glass towers. Drones blinked red overhead, moving like lazy insects. A faint hum of city life still lingered this late at night, but Erich felt distant from it all.
His phone buzzed on the counter—an urgent message from an old contact. He didn't need to open it. He already knew. War was on the horizon again. The whispers were louder now. Military-grade drones were already taking off from airbases, and an uneasy tension simmered across the continent. A sense of inevitability had crept into the air.
Erich set the cup down and ran a hand through his disheveled hair. It had been years since he'd retired from active duty. The brutal wars in Ukraine had left him scarred—physically and mentally—but he had adapted. At first, he'd tried to escape it all, rebuilding a life, teaching history at a local university. But the weight of history, and the way the world kept spiraling back into chaos, kept pulling him in.
He wasn't sure how much longer he could ignore the calls. He had the skills. He had the knowledge. A part of him wondered if the wars of the past had never truly left him. Another part, the more reluctant one, feared that if he went back, he wouldn't come out the same. Maybe that was the whole point.
A sudden crash from outside the window broke his thoughts. His gaze snapped to the street below, where a passing vehicle had skidded to a halt, its tires screeching against the pavement. The driver cursed as he adjusted his car and sped off into the night. Erich's heart beat faster, his senses sharpening despite the calm that had settled in his mind. The world seemed a little too close, a little too loud.
With a final glance at the darkened city, Erich turned away from the window, grabbed his jacket, and left the apartment. He wasn't sure if it was the dread of the world's instability or the undeniable pull of a familiar life he couldn't shake. But he knew he was about to step into something far darker than anything he'd left behind.
Part 2 – The Accident
Location: Berlin, Germany
Time: 2230 Hours, 18 August 2035
The chill of the night air stung Erich's skin as he moved through the dark streets, his thoughts still tangled in Klaus's words. The weight of the call was heavy, but the decision hadn't been made. Not yet. He wanted to ignore it. Pretend it didn't matter. But deep down, Erich knew that the world was changing.
As he rounded a corner, a low hum of traffic echoed from the main road. The dim glow of streetlights stretched lazily across the wet pavement, reflecting off the scattered puddles from the earlier rain. Erich kept his head down, walking with a pace that didn't quite match the urgency of the situation, as though part of him was still trying to outrun it all.
Then, from the corner of his eye, a flash of movement. Too fast. A truck, its headlights blinding in the darkness, hurtled toward him with a deafening roar. There was no time to react.
He heard the screech of tires, a violent sound as the truck swerved to avoid him, but it was too late. The impact came with a sickening thud, knocking the breath from his lungs and sending his body crashing into the cold pavement. For a split second, everything seemed to freeze—time itself caught in the aftershock of the collision.
Then, the pain. Agonizing, all-consuming. His body screamed in protest as every nerve fired in overdrive. He couldn't breathe. His vision blurred. The world around him twisted and spun. The last thing he saw was the face of the driver—a look of terror—before the darkness took him.
---
Chapter 1
Part 3 – Reincarnation
Location: Unknown
Time: Unknown
A sharp pain shot through Erich's chest, and he gasped, struggling to fill his lungs with air. The world around him was dark, but it wasn't the same darkness he had been in. It was deeper. More oppressive.
He tried to move, but his limbs felt heavy, sluggish, as if his body was foreign to him. Panic clawed at his mind. Was he dead? Was this the afterlife? His heart raced as he tried to make sense of what was happening.
And then, a cold, damp sensation. The ground beneath him was uneven, like the hard, wet soil of a forest. He blinked, his vision clearing slightly, enough to see trees looming in the shadows. He could hear distant sounds—rustling leaves, the faint crack of branches snapping. He was no longer in Berlin.
For a long moment, he lay still, his thoughts scattered like leaves in the wind. He was sure it was some sort of fevered dream, some sort of disorienting transition between life and death. But as the fog in his mind began to clear, one thing became undeniable. The air around him smelled wrong—familiar, but wrong. The faint scent of smoke, oil, and something metallic hung in the air.
Erich's heart skipped a beat as the realization hit him: this wasn't some afterlife. He wasn't dreaming. He was somewhere else—somewhen else.
The sound of a distant engine broke the silence. The unmistakable rumble of military machinery. Panicked voices.
"No, no, no," Erich muttered under his breath, his mind racing. His body, though disoriented, obeyed instinct as he pushed himself to his feet. His breath came in ragged gasps as his mind struggled to grasp the impossibility of the situation. But there was no time to process it further. The voices were getting closer.
Erich's legs felt weak beneath him, and his head throbbed as he stumbled forward, his vision still unclear. He tried to take in his surroundings—trees, a dense forest, and the unmistakable, almost suffocating presence of war in the air. The sounds of an approaching vehicle, the clatter of footsteps, the voices barking orders—he didn't need to see them to know what was happening.
The war was here. But it was not the war he had known. This was not 2035. This was 1939.
Part 4 – Occupation of Czechoslovakia
Location: German-Czechoslovak Border
Time: 0600 Hours, 15 March 1939
The clatter of steel tracks and the rumble of engines snapped Erich from his daze.
He sat in the back of a military truck, surrounded by olive-gray uniforms and young, tired faces. The wind bit through the canvas covering, carrying with it the cold, wet scent of early spring. The road beneath them was rough, patched with melting snow and fresh ruts carved by convoys ahead. Everything around him was real—too real.
He blinked, trying to ground himself. He had no idea how he got here, only that he had. One moment, he was dying under Berlin's neon lights, and now… he was here. In a different uniform. In a different war.
"Stahl," a voice barked from beside him. A heavy slap landed on his shoulder.
He turned sharply.
A stocky soldier with a crooked grin was staring at him. The man looked to be in his early twenties, with dark blond hair peeking out beneath his field cap. He held a cigarette in one hand, already half-smoked.
"You daydream like that in front of a Czech border patrol and they'll put a hole in your skull before you can say Heil," the man said.
Erich's mouth moved before he could stop it. "Thanks."
"Name's Helmut," the soldier said, offering a handshake without ceremony. "First time on campaign?"
Erich hesitated. His thoughts were still scattered, but something in his mind was adapting—trying to survive. "Yeah," he said. "First time."
Helmut grunted. "Get used to the cold and the stink. Nothing glorious about marching into a country that didn't even fire a shot. But hey—orders are orders. We'll be in Prague before lunch."
The truck hit a bump and jolted. Erich instinctively reached out to steady himself, his fingers brushing against the cold steel of the rifle slung beside him. That's when he noticed it.
On his uniform—stitched neatly above his breast pocket—was a name tag.
Stahl, E.
His heart stopped.
They didn't change my name…
Somehow, impossibly, he was still Erich Stahl. Not just in mind. On paper. In uniform. In the official rolls of the German Wehrmacht.
He sat back slowly, swallowing hard, eyes fixed on the horizon ahead. It felt like fate—or a curse. Whatever force had dropped him into this world hadn't bothered to disguise him. There'd be no starting fresh. No hiding who he was. And that terrified him more than anything else.
"You alright?" Helmut asked, nudging him.
Erich forced a nod. "Just tired."
"Well, don't fall asleep now. I hear the officers like to make examples out of dreamers." Helmut smirked and sat back, puffing smoke into the morning chill.
The truck continued its slow, grinding advance toward the border. Ahead, Erich could see the faint outlines of bunkers, barricades abandoned without resistance, and Czechoslovak flags torn down and replaced with swastikas. The occupation had begun.
And Erich, whether he liked it or not, was now part of it.
Part 4 – Occupation of Czechoslovakia (continued)
Location: Outskirts of Prague, Czechoslovakia
Time: 0830 Hours, 15 March 1939
By the time they reached the outskirts of Prague, the roads were congested with tanks, trucks, and marching infantry. German flags fluttered from buildings that had flown Czech colors only a day before. The occupation was swift, almost surgical—no resistance, no gunfire. Just silence and stares from the civilians who watched from windows and street corners.
The truck rolled to a stop in a small square surrounded by dull, crumbling stone buildings. The soldiers filed out with mechanical discipline, boots hitting the cobblestone in synchronized rhythm.
"Welcome to our new home," Helmut muttered, stretching with a wince. "At least until we get reassigned."
Erich slid out behind him, adjusting the strap of his rifle and scanning the street. The air was tense—occupied, yes, but not safe. The Czech locals said nothing, but their eyes followed the Germans like vultures sizing up the living.
A voice called out from a cluster of soldiers near an administrative building: "New assignments here! Form up by company!"
Helmut nudged Erich forward. "Come on. Let's see who the army gods stuck us with."
They approached a tall, broad-shouldered NCO handing out assignment slips with a clipboard in hand. He wore a thin mustache and had the kind of hard jawline that looked carved from granite.
"Name?" the NCO barked.
"Stahl, Erich," Erich replied, his voice steady.
The NCO paused, scanning the list. His brow furrowed briefly, then he marked something down. "You're with Second Platoon, Ninth Company. Temporary barracks are two blocks north. Report to Unterfeldwebel Reinhardt at 0900."
Next to him, Helmut gave his name and was assigned to the same unit. "Looks like we're stuck together," he grinned.
As they moved to their barracks—a commandeered Czech school building—Erich finally had a moment to take in the rest of the platoon. In a side courtyard, a group of men sat on crates, sharing a half-smoked cigarette and playing cards. A few others stood polishing rifles or staring out at the city like they were waiting for something to happen.
One of them looked up—a lean soldier with sharp cheekbones, a buzz cut, and the permanent scowl of a man who'd seen more than his share of bad days. His gaze lingered on Erich longer than necessary.
"You're the new ones?" he asked, stepping forward. "I'm Jonas."
"Helmut," Helmut said with a quick handshake.
"Stahl," Erich replied, returning the gesture.
"You look like you've seen a ghost," Jonas said, eyeing Erich with quiet suspicion.
Because maybe I have, Erich thought. But he kept his face neutral. "Didn't sleep much."
"You'll get used to that," Jonas muttered. "Everyone here's waiting. No one knows what comes next. But it's not going to be like this for long."
Erich could feel it too. The tension in the ranks. The occupation was calm, but temporary. They weren't here just to wave flags and parade through streets. This was a staging ground.
He sat on a crate beside Helmut and tried to ignore the way his hands trembled slightly. The world he had woken up in was real. These people, these soldiers—they were his reality now.
The past was gone. The future uncertain.
And World War II hadn't even officially begun