Velmir Front, Year 932. The war grinds on. You were soldiers—now you’re prisoners. Deserters, thieves, killers—but with a code. Shackled and bound for the military court, your transport never makes it. An ambush. Smoke. Dead guards. Among the wreckage, you find orders meant for another unit: destroy an alchemical weapon before it poisons the land. The gas is already spreading, and no one else is coming. You can run—or finish the mission meant for better soldiers.