Monte Grappa

4,436 years since initial death
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Matteo couldn't speak.

He just stared back at her, anxiously studying her appearance to remember where or when he had seen her before. Many thoughts emerged, yet he couldn't quite place any of them.

"Do you remember me, Milton?" He hadn't heard that name in centuries, and that confirmed the woman's identity. "Though I know that's not your name anymore as I've heard of Marco and Michael. If I recall correctly, I believe you're now Matteo?"

"Violet." He spoke her name confidently. 

She nodded in return, but corrected him. "It's Valerie now."

That name reminded him of London. It explained how she also knew him as Michael, but now a second thought purged his mind. 

"You said you knew me as Marco and Michael." He disregarded the idea that his ancient dead wife was immortal and instead focused on Italy again. "I can understand Michael, as I recognize you from Whitechapel. But Marco?"

"I was there when Cesare's forces invaded your home in Venice." She lowered her head and frowned.

Matteo glared at her in return. "And you said nothing? You let my family suff-"

"A lion pounced on me." She interrupted him, silencing him in the process as he remembered. "I tried to explain everything but you and your pet killed me."

He stood up and walked past her as he processed everything. She stayed in place and turned to face him. "I've spent all these years trying to find you just so I could tell you I'm alive. I heard what you told me in Madrid, and I'm immortal too."

Instead of acknowledging any of it, Matteo thought of his family. He recalled the double-bladed dagger he found in their home and Livia's warning regarding Kara. Valerie in London had the same weapon, and she just confirmed her presence In Italy at that time. 

He patted his hands against his waist, only to realize that Valerie had given him new clothes. His uniform must have burnt in the wreckage, but he felt the hilt of a pistol. Upon looking down, it was a Colt M1911, a standard British firearm. 

As he took another step towards the door, she spoke again. "If you're thinking of returning to the war, just leave it be, Milton. You've fought enough, and we both deserve a break. Let the mortals fight it out on their own."

"Back in Venice or Florence, did you come across a young woman named Kara?" He kept his back towards her. 

She hesitated. "I knew she was your daughter. We spoke a lot about you."

His heart was beating rapidly, the pressure within his body overwhelmed him. The ringing in his ears had begun. His eyes blinked, and his fingers twitched. 

Meanwhile, Valerie opened her mouth yet again. "Milton? What's the matter? I can explain everything, we have all the time in t-"

He turned around and lifted his pistol. His finger pulled the trigger without thinking it over, and she fell to the floor dead with a bullet in her head. 

The ringing stopped. He stared at her and exhaled deeply. He turned to leave, but three goats blocked the doorway. They were the same ones he ran from in London. He aimed his pistol and opened fire just as they charged towards him. 

One of the goats waved its head, its horn collided with the bullet. It should have shattered, but the goat looked unharmed. He hastily shot again, but each bullet was deflected until he was rammed. 

All of them trampled over him, pounding their hooves against his body. This would have been an embarrassing death, was it not for Set manifesting to rescue him. The lion roared mightily, and the goats leapt away. They huddled around Valerie as one of them bit the top of her jacket to drag her back. 

Matteo staggered, and he exited the cabin. Out in the open, he was instantly met with the familiar presence of warfare. An allied biplane immediately flew directly overhead, heading towards the battlefield.

Finally, he ran. His rapid footsteps matched the beating of his heart. In the near distance was an Italian motorbike. It must have belonged to Valerie.

He wasted no time in starting it and heading down the valleys. The bike was suited for the terrain, despite it still being a fairly bumpy ride. It was incredible to think of how far humanity has come up to this point. Less than a hundred years ago, this method of transportation would have seemed impossible.

Soon enough, the drastic scenes of war could be seen in the horizon. The battle had finally reached its climax as explosions covered the blue sky and craters were left scattered across the fields. The Central Powers, Austrian-Hungarians, had finally launched their final offensive. It was an all out frontal assault.

The Italian defense still held strong, attempting to advance through the caves below and the fields above. Everything was at stake here if they fail to defend these mountains. If the Central Powers succeed and take Monte Grappa, then the whole region would become theirs. It would give them the chance to topple down the Italian army once and for all.

Along the way, he found a few fallen Italian soldiers. Given that Valerie replaced his clothes, he stripped a few of the corpses to find the right size that fits him. Once he reacquired his uniform, he made his way to the rear infantry ahead with a stolen bolt-action rifle.

He had made it just in time to witness the last wave of the battle. Italian infantry charged through the mountain range and climbed over rocks in the way or used them as cover. Cobblestone walls also proved to be useful when ducking from enemy fire. Peeking from the walls, they could fire a few shots before taking cover again, as the fight continued its heavy constant hellfire.

Matteo exited the trenches along with a handful of allies, but he stood frozen in his track. The muffled cries of goats echoed in the distance. They haunted him for what he did. 

He couldn't move as he placed a hand against the side of his head. Men were shot and killed all around him. Whistles blew and bullets sprayed the air. Smoke fogged the scene and his vision faded. 

If there was one thing about war that never changed, it was the scream of a man. Whether it be in fear or bravery, death or victory, it remained the same. 

But one particular scream from the fog sounded different. It was one of raw, unfiltered anger. As if one's life depended on their final breath, the smoke cleared only to reveal an Austrian soldier rush forward with his rifle's bayonet. 

It pierced Matteo's torso, the soldier kept the charge until they both fell into the trench behind. The Austrian collapsed beside him, and Matteo remained still with the rifle protruding out of him. 

He reached for his waist and grabbed his Colt pistol, his head barely turning to look at the soldier who would take his life. But with his weapon aimed at the Austrian's head, he lost the will to pull the trigger. Not when he saw the face of his enemy. The soldier appeared to be no older than sixteen years old. He was merely a child. 

That was the harsh reality he had to face, for even teenagers found themselves on the front lines. The kids would lie about their age to get recruited, knowing the army was desperate to enlist any man who can fight. The battlefield was full of young souls.

Matteo took a deep breath, his gun still fixed on the boy. The Austrian struggled to stand with a frightened look on his face. His hands turned upwards, and they shared a moment of silence. 

Although anger had clouded his judgement, Matteo felt relaxed. His hand was steady, still aiming the gun for the child's head. A part of him felt he should pull the trigger to end the kid's misery. Even if he were to escape alive, these memories would scar him. Nobody deserved to live with such trauma. 

Yet the longer he stared at his enemy, the less inclined he felt to kill him. Just when the boy was able to stand, Matteo decided to speak in German. "Stay." 

That got the kid's attention, and he continued. "If you run out there, you'll die. Whether we fire upon you, or your allies mistake you for an enemy in the fog, the risk isn't worth it."

Matteo dropped his pistol and looked back at the rifle stuck in his chest. He sighed and stared up at the sky just as the Austrian sat back down. 

They stayed in the trench until the distant gunfire finally came to a permanent end.

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Historical Notes:

Colt M1911

Trench warfare became a staple of WWI, with armies spending months digging trenches. These were often muddy and infested with rats, forcing hundreds soldiers to be cramped together in these maze-like structures for days at a time. Trench massacres were common when an enemy side invades, resulting in the mass slaughter of hundreds easily that could form a river of blood in the trenches.

WWI saw the usage of chemical warfare in the frontlines. Mustard and chlorine gas were the most common, causing widespread suffering and death to thousands of soldiers.

A notable but controversial fact about the war relates to a story in 1918 at the French village of Marcoing. A British soldier named Henry Tandey encountered a lone German at night walking towards the English trench. Tandey lifted his rifle, and the German finally realized his mistake. However, Tandey lowered his weapon and let the German escape unharmed, to which the German nodded with gratitude. 

That German is widely believed to be Adolf Hitler, as even Hitler himself confirmed the story around twenty years later. Hitler even went as far as learning the name of the soldier who spared him (Henry Tandey) and wanted to phone him to thank him personally in 1938.

Some historians however believe the German wasn't actually Hitler, as it occurred on September 28th, during which Hitler should have been in Germany under his second military leave that also ended on the 28th. Though historians believe that Hitler did in fact face a near-death experience and was spared during the war according to his accounts, they doubt it had anything to do with Henry Tandey.

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