Patience is a weapon forged in hell

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I hear them moving closer, the muffled shuffle of boots through the mud. They think they’re hunting us. But I’m not hiding—I’m lying in wait. My finger doesn’t tremble on the trigger. Not because I don’t want to squeeze, but because I know what they don’t: desperation kills faster than bullets.

You don’t rush in war. You don’t flinch at the hiss of metal cutting the air, or at the wet sound of someone’s skull splitting open nearby. You don’t react. You become something else, something less human. The kind of creature that can lie still while death sniffs at your throat and hold your breath until the moment to strike finally arrives.

They think they’ve broken us. These invaders, these scavengers, tearing apart our land, defiling our homes. But they don’t understand—this isn’t their land to break. This soil, this ruined earth, it’s fed by generations of our blood. And every drop spilled here makes us stronger. They’re building their own graves, one corpse at a time, too blind to see the dirt piling up around them.

The stench of their fear mixes with the acrid smoke of burning flesh. You can smell it—you can feel it, can’t you? The warmth of death creeping closer. But we don’t flinch. You can’t afford to in this war. They say war strips you of your humanity, but I say humanity is a weakness, a luxury we buried long ago. Out here, empathy is a bullet in the gut.

Out here, we’ve learned that life is cheap. We’re all dead men walking—some just don’t know it yet. The ones who hesitate, the ones who still cling to some pathetic idea of morality—they die first. And they die screaming, because they didn’t learn the truth: there is no honor in this. No justice. There’s only who’s left standing when the dust settles.

They try to come at us with their machines, their shiny tanks, their well-fed soldiers. But machines break. Flesh tears. And when they do, we feast on their ruin. I’ve watched their faces—seen the fear flicker in their eyes just before I pull the trigger. I’ve watched their blood paint these fields, soaked so deep into the earth you could wring it out of the roots. And I’ve felt nothing. Nothing but satisfaction, because this is what they deserve.

They invaded us, they thought they could take from us. But we take from them now. We take their lives, their breath, their hope. We tear it from them piece by bloody piece, until there’s nothing left. No screams, no cries, just silence. The silence that comes after you’ve obliterated everything.

They’ll say we’re monsters. They’ll call us savages. Let them. Let them scream our names with hatred, with terror. Fear is power, and power is survival. This war doesn’t end with treaties, with negotiations. It ends when the last of them is cold in the ground, and not before.

We don’t forgive. We don’t forget. Every city they’ve razed, every village they’ve burned—they will answer for it. Not in courts, not in front of judges—but with their bodies. With the ash that was once their lives. I’ll smile when I see their bones grind under the boots of the next generation of Ukrainian children walking over what remains of these invaders.

And don’t think there’s a limit to how far we’ll go. Don’t think there’s any line we won’t cross. We’ll salt their fields with the tears of their mothers. We’ll raze their homes, rip their flags from the earth and burn them until their ashes mix with our soil. And when we’re done, there won’t be anything left of them. No memory, no history—just the echoes of a people who tried, and failed, to break us.

We are not made of flesh anymore. We are made of vengeance. And vengeance doesn’t tire. It doesn’t break. It waits.

Let them come. Let them bring everything they have. They’ll find nothing but their own end waiting for them here. Because we’ve learned to turn pain into strength, to turn death into purpose.

And when the last of them falls, when the last invader chokes on his own blood, I will stand over his corpse and feel nothing but the cold satisfaction of justice.

This is war. It’s not glory. It’s not heroism. It’s destruction, it’s the grinding down of the human soul until there’s nothing left but bone and dust. And we’ll make sure every last one of them feels that.