Começando pela Destruição de Dunquerque

“Ah! My eyes! My eyes are burning…”

Lelouch was jolted awake by a searing pain in his eyes. Just as he was about to call for help, a wave of salty seawater surged into his mouth and nose, cutting off his scream.

On the brink of life and death, he summoned an unimaginable strength, struggling to rise despite the choking water. Tears streamed from his seawater-irritated eyes, gradually allowing him to make out his surroundings.

He found himself on a battlefield-strewn beach, amid the ruins of buildings and piers, scattered equipment, fallen soldiers, and smoldering gas canisters.

“Sergeant Lelouch? You’re still alive? Take cover! The enemy ships are still shelling!”

Confused, Lelouch spotted a soldier lying in a shell crater ahead, waving and shouting at him. Without hesitation, driven by instinct, he sprinted wildly and rolled into the crater.

To his surprise, he felt no pain during the roll—only the numbness brought on by a surge of adrenaline.

No sooner had he lain down than a six-inch naval shell struck the muddy beach where he had just been, sending a towering spray of mud and sand into the air.

Luckily, he had been gasping with his mouth open, keeping his Eustachian tubes open and sparing his eardrums from rupture. Still, a violent wave of blood and breath surged through his body.

Everything felt so real—had he really been transported through time?

Nearby, a comrade, also splattered with mud, seemed accustomed to the chaos. He dusted off his gray uniform, then pulled out damp matches and a confisca