Cannon Fodder Novels & Stories

"Next." The line shuffled forward. I watched. It was the strangest battle I had ever seen. There were men who wept as they drank. There were men who spat in the gutter, ashamed, and drank anyway. There were boys who looked fourteen and a woman with a pistol under her coat, and every one of them held out a trembling hand like a child asking for bread. "They are gunners," Sandro said in my ear. He had stopped writing. His face was pale. "Matteo, look at their sleeves. Every one is stained with powder. These are the men who work the cannons on those ships."

The face of the cannon fodder. Panic, cold and sharp, shot through me like a lightning bolt. I scrambled off the sofa, my legs nearly giving out. I was wearing a silk shirt that probably cost more than my entire apartment building. My hands flew to my neck, my heart hammering against my ribs. No bite mark. Not yet. But the delicate skin of my scent gland was smooth and unblemished, a terrifying blank slate. "No. No, no, no, no," I chanted, my voice a high-pitched wheeze. "This is not happening. I'm in a coma. I've got brain damage. This is a hallucination brought on by instant noodles and regret."

However, a lot of them still felt like they should try their luck. They felt like they would not be so unlucky that they would become cannon fodder the moment they entered, but practically everyone seemed to think like that. Everyone had the same idea that they were the special ones that would not die. However, Fane felt that that way of thinking would push them right into their deaths. Slaughter games were the playground of the strong. The weaklings were only there to be killed. Weinhord City had warriors from three second-grade worlds. Those warriors would forget about their dignity for the sake of spirit crystals, slaughtering everyone they saw in sight.

Donald continued, “When two armies are combating, we can’t expose our main forces in advance. Instead, we should send the cannon fodders to test their weapons and strategy. Once they start the battle, we can find the opponent’s main combat power and remove it. Only then shall we, the main troop, go down to the battleground. By then, our opponent would surely die.” “Imagine what would happen if we send the main force directly and this is destroyed by the opponent’s attack? Doesn’t that mean we’d be defeated on the first wave?” Sean nodded knowingly. “Alright, Dad, I understand now.” “So, where can we find these cannon fodders? Th

'If I did not need them as cannon fodder, they would already be dead. Outwardly, he shrugged with an easy show of mercy. "It's fine. I'm a kind person. I forgive them." Firepower sat in his hands now. Moving as he pleased felt natural. Chloe clutched Kenneth's arm, her gaze flicking toward Cyrus with fear. 'Kind… Right, if you say so.' "Let's go," Cyrus said. He walked off with his pistol in hand, each step sharp and absolute. His preparations were nearly finished. His cannon fodder would not be needed much longer. And even if a few survived the conflicts ahead, he would clear them out later. Most of them, if not all.

Athena POV I'm on the battlefield, like, oh my God Knockin' soldiers down like House of Cards I'm a one woman army Yes, I'm a one woman army Let's march tonight The music is still playin' So get up and fight “One woman army” from porcelain black is drifting into my ears, one of my favorite empowerment songs I use to boost myself when I need it most. My head starts to wobble along with the tune, but I stop dead in my tracks when a throbbing pain shoots through my back at the movement. F********ck me.

Cannon snorts, hands buried inside his coat. “I hope so,” Wendigo gave a half-shrug, "maybe alone, I can't, but together, I'm very sure I can,” he glances at the Black gun by his side. “Useless mortals” The smirk on Cannon's face was so chilly, it was as though he was mocking the stupid guys who thought they could defeat him. “Not all mortals are as useless as you think,” Wendigo brags, he just doesn't understand who Cannon is and what he is capable of cause if he did, he won't have been blabbing nonsense.

Kristi took one moment to make sure Jared had stocked the ambo with extra supplies before they rolled out right behind the ladder truck. Three blocks away, they could see it was indeed a bad one. It was another abandoned apartment building, scheduled for demolition, and the black clouds spread for several blocks. Two blocks away, they could see the flames shooting up in the air. That was a good indication the building was fully involved, and at its most dangerous for the men who had to clear it. Because, abandoned or not, there would still be squatters, just like at the others.

POV FREYA No man's land does not belong to the one who fires first, but to the one who still stands when the last round is spent. The one‑hundred‑millimetre cannon roared with a concussion so brutal it shook the very foundations of the foundry. The blinding muzzle flash lit up the battlefield like a lightning strike, and the air hummed with raw power, yet the shell never reached its target.

This was a common strategy for many Abnormal tribes, gather prisoners, usually sentenced to die, put them in squads, then send them into situations where death was all but guaranteed. “ Fodder Corps!” The tribes gleefully called them. There would be no rewards for exceptional service shown in battle awaiting them, should any one of them survive. In a way, I hope I'm one of the many who won't live to see tonight’s moon. I grow weary of senseless killing.