The Wolf Brigade

Day 10

My name is Gats, but the men of the military unit Vukovi (Wolves) call me Berserk - the Black Knight.

They say I earned that nickname because of my destructive, violent nature. Because rage takes hold of me the moment I sense injustice, and I have known injustice more times in my life than the heart of an ordinary mortal could endure.

The tractor engines from earlier wars had barely cooled when my father was forced to start his up again and flee from Mother Serbia to warmer lands. I was only a child then- first level, you could say, when a long column of our people was loading tractors onto great ships. From there we headed toward Southern Italy... Naples, Sicily, and finally Malta, the so-called Corfu of our age. At least, that is how it was told to me, because I was far too young to truly understand what was happening around me in those years of war.

Still, one thing I know for certain: I was hungry as a wolf. In my tiny hand I held an even smaller piece of bread. I can barely remember what steak tastes like anymore, and roasted fish existed only as an icon in the inventory. Beneath it, the same line always appeared: ❤️ 20%, pieces: 0.

One evening, far from my true homeland, my stomach howled like a wolf under the moonlight. It happened on the very night when the full moon poured its silver glow across the shores of Malta. That was the moment something inside me broke. First came despair, and then a boiling rage that threw me into the frenzied state by which I am still known in the unit to this day. They say I lashed out with such force that it took three grown men to restrain me. And then, when they finally pinned me face-down to the ground, my eyes blurred with tears, I saw him for the first time.

From higher ground, bathed in moonlight, a solitary and mysterious warrior had been watching the whole scene unfold. Armored from head to toe, with night-vision gear casting two red beams through the darkness, he looked like some ghostly old wolf, but one still very much in his prime.

That night, he saw something in me. My beastly temper, unnatural strength for my age, or sheer unbreakable will... Whatever it was, it drew him to me like a magnet. He approached and spoke in a cold, measured voice. He introduced himself as MiscoSRB, commander of the newly formed military unit known as Vukovi. The name suits your character, he said dryly. He was looking for fresh blood for war, for the liberation of the homeland, and I have to admit, it did not take much to convince me. I was given a gray knife, gray gear, the promise of a 5% damage bonus from orders, and comrades with whom I would level up.

Then MiscoSRB quoted our renowned poet, Škabo. In truth, it was also a kind of oath, a song we sing day after day on long marches, and it goes like this:

“Man has always been a wolf to man; but a wolf is never a man to another wolf, because it does not change its nature. To enemies and prey, the wolf is a bloodthirsty beast; but the pack is all for one and one for all.”

That was the day I became part of the pack. The foundation was laid, and everything else we would have to earn ourselves, through blood and sweat.

Tenth day. Thirteenth level. Rank: Soldier. No longer just some rookie kid. Life has changed for the better. Still, one thing has not changed. One thing inside me is still boiling, and that is the rage that will not fade until I return to my homeland, Serbia. And then... then a new chapter of my life begins... Revenge!

Still, not everything is ideal. We are still a young military unit, and that is why we need your help. We want to expand our capacity, boost our attack percentages, buy oil... Anyone willing to help is free to donate a few coins, and in time, we will return the favor. Weapons are taken apart and reassembled, and our story goes on...

We serve Serbia!

Berserk, Valletta (Malta), March 25, 2026.