Because fourteen thousand men remained. And only nine hundred twenty spots were left.
The entity's smile widened into something that belonged on a predator rather than a human face.
"For the rest of you..." Jack's hand gestured broadly to encompass the remaining mercenaries. "Prove you deserve to leave. Last nine hundred twenty standing earn their freedom."
Absolute silence. As the remaining mercenaries processed what they were being asked to do.
People they'd fought beside for years. They had to kill friends and brothers in arms, all for a chance at survival.
"I..." One soldier started, his voice cracking. "I can't. I won't..."
The man next to him drove a knife into his kidney. Twisted it and pulled it out, his knife was covered in blood.
The first soldier collapsed, clutching his side, blood pooling beneath him on the ice.
"One less, I need to return to my family," his killer announced, his voice was flat, he was already dead inside.
