It is the year of our lord, 1914.

For eight hundred years, the church has valiantly fought against the forces of hell in Europe and Asia.

The oppressive heat bears upon the huddled soldiers as they await the command to advance. Sweat drips down their brows, stinging eyes and leaving salty trails on sun-weathered skin. The stench of fear mingles with the acrid odor of gun oil and unwashed bodies packed too close together.

The Stigmatized nuns behind them let out occasional eerie whispers and moans, their bodies twitching and spasming from the cocktail of drugs coursing through their veins. Behind them, a Shrine Anchorite stands unerring.

You, whatever you may be, are stood inside this massive network of concrete trenches.