The Second World War-Earth L-E-G-C-10-3
"Prime Earth? Alternate Earths? Such funny little terms. You’d think seasoned multiversal explorers would know better by now. But no—every dimension, without fail, considers itself the Prime. The original. The default. And everything else? A curious little side-story.
I've visited enough timelines to tell you with 99.99% certainty: everyone thinks they’re the main character.
Is there a Prime Earth? I’ve yet to find it—and I’ve looked in places most don’t even have names for. Honestly, I suspect the whole idea is just a multiversal coping mechanism. A way for a species to feel unique while staring into the abyss of infinite variations. It’s comforting to believe your version matters most—even if, in the grand stack of existence, you’re page 738 of a rough draft that was never published.
But divergence... and convergence—ah, now those are subjects worth my time.
There’s something beautiful in the way Earths spin off from one another. So many blue-and-green marbles, bobbing along a trans-cosmic tide. So many with humans at the top of the food chain. So many where history rhymes rather than repeats. Tiny fractures, tiny choices—yet somehow the same war breaks out, the same heroes rise, the same mistakes echo.
And then there’s this Earth.
Earth Lambda-Epsilon-Gamma-Chi Ten-Three.
Catchy, isn’t it? That’s the designation it uses in its own system of dimensional cartography—a refreshing bit of humility, actually. Not Earth-One. Not Prime Earth. Not The Sacred Timeline or any other puffed-up nonsense. Just a set of coordinates. No ego.
This Earth fascinates me not because of where it ends up—but because of how it gets there. The ingredients are familiar. The recipe, recognizable. But the steps?
Oh, the steps are different.
Extra ingredients. Hidden hands. Additional actors who were never cast in the original script.
It’s a mirror world, yes—but one cracked in just the right places to catch the light differently.
And that… that is why I watch." - Convergence
It was a cold November 11th.
Then again, hadn’t they all been?
As far back as his long memory could reach—and it reached further than most—Remembrance Days had always been grey, always chilled. As though the sky itself dulled in deference to the fallen.
The memories never faded. That was the curse of an eidetic mind, sharpened further by the longevity gifted—or inflicted—upon him. He remembered each face. Each sound. Each loss. Not as faded photos in a dusty album, but with the clarity of someone still there, still in it.
He took a slow breath and bowed his head. Around him, the crowd in Ottawa stood in unified silence—civilians, veterans, children too young to understand but old enough to listen. Silence not just for those who died, but for all who fought… all who chose sacrifice over safety.
War doesn’t make you a hero, he thought.
Not by itself.
War was cruel. War was barbarous. War was a failure dressed in uniform. And yet—like art or poetry—it seemed a constant of human nature. The canvas changed. The weapons evolved. But the ache remained.
What did make someone a hero, he believed, were the choices they made—and the reasons they made them. The ones who walked into fire not for glory, but because someone had to. The ones who shook with fear and still pressed forward. The ones who never came back.
He had.
And that, perhaps, was the weight he felt most on mornings like this. The cold. The silence. The wreaths. Because something—destiny, fate, chaos with a cruel sense of humor—had let him return when so many hadn’t.
He had persisted when he felt he had no right to.
Remained, when others were taken.
And he knew a time would come—perhaps not far off—when he would be the last to remember. The last who had stood in the blood and the smoke and the roar. The last who had seen firsthand the evils both sides unleashed in the name of victory.
As the silence passed and the ceremony continued, Christophan knelt before a wreath. Gently, he unpinned the poppy from his uniform, placed it among the others, and whispered—softly but with the weight of decades behind him:
“Lest we forget.”- Agent Leaf
I've visited enough timelines to tell you with 99.99% certainty: everyone thinks they’re the main character.
Is there a Prime Earth? I’ve yet to find it—and I’ve looked in places most don’t even have names for. Honestly, I suspect the whole idea is just a multiversal coping mechanism. A way for a species to feel unique while staring into the abyss of infinite variations. It’s comforting to believe your version matters most—even if, in the grand stack of existence, you’re page 738 of a rough draft that was never published.
But divergence... and convergence—ah, now those are subjects worth my time.
There’s something beautiful in the way Earths spin off from one another. So many blue-and-green marbles, bobbing along a trans-cosmic tide. So many with humans at the top of the food chain. So many where history rhymes rather than repeats. Tiny fractures, tiny choices—yet somehow the same war breaks out, the same heroes rise, the same mistakes echo.
And then there’s this Earth.
Earth Lambda-Epsilon-Gamma-Chi Ten-Three.
Catchy, isn’t it? That’s the designation it uses in its own system of dimensional cartography—a refreshing bit of humility, actually. Not Earth-One. Not Prime Earth. Not The Sacred Timeline or any other puffed-up nonsense. Just a set of coordinates. No ego.
This Earth fascinates me not because of where it ends up—but because of how it gets there. The ingredients are familiar. The recipe, recognizable. But the steps?
Oh, the steps are different.
Extra ingredients. Hidden hands. Additional actors who were never cast in the original script.
It’s a mirror world, yes—but one cracked in just the right places to catch the light differently.
And that… that is why I watch." - Convergence
It was a cold November 11th.
Then again, hadn’t they all been?
As far back as his long memory could reach—and it reached further than most—Remembrance Days had always been grey, always chilled. As though the sky itself dulled in deference to the fallen.
The memories never faded. That was the curse of an eidetic mind, sharpened further by the longevity gifted—or inflicted—upon him. He remembered each face. Each sound. Each loss. Not as faded photos in a dusty album, but with the clarity of someone still there, still in it.
He took a slow breath and bowed his head. Around him, the crowd in Ottawa stood in unified silence—civilians, veterans, children too young to understand but old enough to listen. Silence not just for those who died, but for all who fought… all who chose sacrifice over safety.
War doesn’t make you a hero, he thought.
Not by itself.
War was cruel. War was barbarous. War was a failure dressed in uniform. And yet—like art or poetry—it seemed a constant of human nature. The canvas changed. The weapons evolved. But the ache remained.
What did make someone a hero, he believed, were the choices they made—and the reasons they made them. The ones who walked into fire not for glory, but because someone had to. The ones who shook with fear and still pressed forward. The ones who never came back.
He had.
And that, perhaps, was the weight he felt most on mornings like this. The cold. The silence. The wreaths. Because something—destiny, fate, chaos with a cruel sense of humor—had let him return when so many hadn’t.
He had persisted when he felt he had no right to.
Remained, when others were taken.
And he knew a time would come—perhaps not far off—when he would be the last to remember. The last who had stood in the blood and the smoke and the roar. The last who had seen firsthand the evils both sides unleashed in the name of victory.
As the silence passed and the ceremony continued, Christophan knelt before a wreath. Gently, he unpinned the poppy from his uniform, placed it among the others, and whispered—softly but with the weight of decades behind him:
“Lest we forget.”- Agent Leaf
The Conflict
Prelude
The seeds of the Second World War were sown in the ashes of the First. The Treaty of Versailles had broken Germany’s back while stoking resentment in its heart, creating fertile ground for the rise of fascism. By the 1930s, totalitarian regimes in Germany, Italy, and Japan were expanding aggressively, driven by nationalism, conquest, and in darker corners, by occult ambition and secret research into powers best left buried. Superhuman anomalies and fringe science—once dismissed as myths or dime-novel fantasies—began to surface in earnest, their presence tolerated or exploited in the arms race of authoritarian regimes.
Though the war that followed would appear much like our earths own on maps and headlines—Poland invaded, France fallen, the Pacific ignited—the undercurrents were far stranger. Unverified reports of "meta-agents," ritual summoning experiments, and prototype super-soldiers were dismissed by most governments, but those in the know were already preparing for a conflict that would not just reshape nations—but reality itself. The age of modern war was ending. Something else was about to begin.
Deployment
When Germany invaded Poland in September 1939, it triggered the formal beginning of the war in Europe—but for those watching closely, stranger forces were already being quietly moved into position. The Wehrmacht marched with mundane steel and fire, but behind it followed the agents of Das Schwarze Pentagramm, experimental units forged in secret occult bunkers and bio-alchemical labs. Japan, meanwhile, deployed monstrous creations from Unit 731 into China, and Italy began testing bizarre artifacts unearthed from forgotten Roman tombs. These "anomalous" assets were few at first, but their presence marked a turning point: war would no longer be fought only by men and machines, but by beings and technologies the world barely understood.
The Allied response was slow at first—hampered by disbelief, bureaucracy, and ethical hesitation. But as Axis horrors spread across Europe, North Africa, and the Pacific, necessity overcame restraint. Britain activated its hidden Occult Defence Directorate, Canada and the United States fast-tracked "volunteer enhancement programs," and the Soviet Union awakened ancient horrors of its own buried deep in Siberia. Heroes and monsters, science and sorcery, were deployed not just to win battles—but to hold back the tide of a darker, more terrifying war.
The Allied response was slow at first—hampered by disbelief, bureaucracy, and ethical hesitation. But as Axis horrors spread across Europe, North Africa, and the Pacific, necessity overcame restraint. Britain activated its hidden Occult Defence Directorate, Canada and the United States fast-tracked "volunteer enhancement programs," and the Soviet Union awakened ancient horrors of its own buried deep in Siberia. Heroes and monsters, science and sorcery, were deployed not just to win battles—but to hold back the tide of a darker, more terrifying war.
Battlefield
World War II was truly global in scale, spanning continents and oceans in a level of total war humanity had never seen before. The primary theaters of conflict stretched across Europe, where the Western and Eastern Fronts carved through cities and countrysides in blood and ruin; North Africa, where desert warfare tested logistics and willpower; and Asia and the Pacific, where Japan’s imperial ambitions clashed with Chinese resistance and Allied island-hopping campaigns. Air, land, and sea saw constant conflict, with battles raging from the snows of Stalingrad to the jungles of Burma, from the skies over London to the beaches of Normandy.
Less conventional battlefields also emerged. Secret ruins in the Sahara became the sites of ritual engagements. Remote Himalayan passes became corridors for spirit-warriors and psychic duels. The Atlantic’s depths and Arctic ice saw skirmishes between advanced submarines and anomalous constructs. Wherever there was bloodshed, the strange soon followed. And in many cases, it wasn't just armies clashing—but ideologies, secret orders, and ancient forces awakened by mankind’s descent into global war.
Less conventional battlefields also emerged. Secret ruins in the Sahara became the sites of ritual engagements. Remote Himalayan passes became corridors for spirit-warriors and psychic duels. The Atlantic’s depths and Arctic ice saw skirmishes between advanced submarines and anomalous constructs. Wherever there was bloodshed, the strange soon followed. And in many cases, it wasn't just armies clashing—but ideologies, secret orders, and ancient forces awakened by mankind’s descent into global war.
Conditions
For the Allied forces, the war was a waking nightmare. They faced not only well-trained Axis troops and brutal mechanized divisions, but a rising tide of mad science, occult weaponry, and inhuman horrors unleashed in pursuit of victory. Nazi super-soldiers, cursed reanimates, and forbidden war-machines tore through conventional defenses, while esoteric rituals twisted the very laws of nature on the battlefield. It was not merely a war of nations, but of paradigms—rationality versus superstition, science versus sorcery, humanity versus monstrosity.
Against this backdrop, Allied soldiers and operatives fought under impossible odds. Trenches crumbled beneath alchemical fire, resistance fighters disappeared under psychic assault, and rumors of ghost-divisions or demon-possessed stormtroopers spread fear in every theater. The conditions were brutal, demoralizing, and surreal. And yet, in spite of it all, the Allies endured—through ingenuity, sacrifice, and the awakening of their own legends.
Against this backdrop, Allied soldiers and operatives fought under impossible odds. Trenches crumbled beneath alchemical fire, resistance fighters disappeared under psychic assault, and rumors of ghost-divisions or demon-possessed stormtroopers spread fear in every theater. The conditions were brutal, demoralizing, and surreal. And yet, in spite of it all, the Allies endured—through ingenuity, sacrifice, and the awakening of their own legends.
The Engagement
The major battles of the Second World War—Dunkirk, Stalingrad, Normandy, Midway—remained pivotal turning points in the global conflict, but in this altered history, they unfolded under far stranger skies. Superpowered beings, summoned horrors, and experimental juggernauts turned these iconic clashes into scenes of both heroism and terror. The fall of Berlin still marked the end of the European campaign, but it was preceded by battles against mechanized giants and infernal infantry, not merely tanks and men.
Super soldiers and costumed heroes emerged from across the Allied nations, many forged in secret programs, others rising from myth or mysticism. Their presence turned the tide in key engagements—such as Operation Tempest’s breach into occult-laced Carpathian fortresses, or the Battle of Black Snow, where the AFSO halted an Axis weather-control superweapon in the ALPs. While many battles mirrored our world, others—like the Siege of Lyon’s Rift —existed only in the shadow war of this earths second world war.
Super soldiers and costumed heroes emerged from across the Allied nations, many forged in secret programs, others rising from myth or mysticism. Their presence turned the tide in key engagements—such as Operation Tempest’s breach into occult-laced Carpathian fortresses, or the Battle of Black Snow, where the AFSO halted an Axis weather-control superweapon in the ALPs. While many battles mirrored our world, others—like the Siege of Lyon’s Rift —existed only in the shadow war of this earths second world war.
Outcome
The Allied victory brought an end to the Axis regime and its global ambitions, but not without immense cost. The world emerged bloodied, traumatized, and forever changed—not only by the scale of human loss, but by the revelation that gods, monsters, and miracles had joined the battlefield. The existence of superhumans, occult powers, and forbidden technologies could no longer be denied.
Many of the surviving super-soldiers and heroes returned home as celebrated figures, but others struggled to adapt to peacetime. Wartime inventions—would spark a new technological age. Secret research was quickly buried or absorbed by rising intelligence agencies, laying the groundwork for a Cold War fought not just with nuclear arms, but with secrets, superscience, and silence.
Many of the surviving super-soldiers and heroes returned home as celebrated figures, but others struggled to adapt to peacetime. Wartime inventions—would spark a new technological age. Secret research was quickly buried or absorbed by rising intelligence agencies, laying the groundwork for a Cold War fought not just with nuclear arms, but with secrets, superscience, and silence.
Aftermath
World War II left behind a fractured world grappling with more than just geopolitical fallout—it ushered in a new era where the boundaries of science, magic, and humanity itself had been violently redrawn. The rise of naturally born superhumans, descendants of wartime experiments and exposures, marked the beginning of what historians would later call the "Rise of Generation Extra." These individuals would become heroes, villains, and political pawns in equal measure.
Nations scrambled to contain or control what had been unleashed. The United States, Soviet Union, and other powers began covert superhuman programs, while secret organizations like Das Schwarze Pentagramm splintered, went underground, or migrated their twisted legacies to rogue states and private hands. Magical artifacts and cursed technologies recovered from battlefields were hidden away or weaponized anew.
The war had not only changed history—it had changed the rules of what was possible. And in doing so, it ensured that the next global conflict would not be fought by soldiers alone, but by beings of power, madness, and myth reborn in modern skin.
Nations scrambled to contain or control what had been unleashed. The United States, Soviet Union, and other powers began covert superhuman programs, while secret organizations like Das Schwarze Pentagramm splintered, went underground, or migrated their twisted legacies to rogue states and private hands. Magical artifacts and cursed technologies recovered from battlefields were hidden away or weaponized anew.
The war had not only changed history—it had changed the rules of what was possible. And in doing so, it ensured that the next global conflict would not be fought by soldiers alone, but by beings of power, madness, and myth reborn in modern skin.
Historical Significance
The Second World War began much as it did in our own timeline—sparked by the rise of fascist powers, imperial ambition, and the failure of diplomacy. But beneath the politics and military maneuvers lurked something far older and darker. The Axis powers, particularly Nazi Germany and Imperial Japan, turned to forbidden knowledge and experimental science to gain an edge. Occult pacts, soul-binding rituals, and biological abominations joined tanks and aircraft on the battlefield.By 1940, rumors of revenants, demonic infantry, and engineered super-soldiers were dismissed as propaganda—until Allied forces encountered them firsthand. The Allies responded in kind, mobilizing fringe scientists, arcanists, and the first generation of registered superhumans. The war escalated beyond comprehension, becoming a crucible that shattered the boundary between myth and reality.
What began as a clash of nations became a global awakening to the terrifying potential of human ambition—both heroic and monstrous. From the blood-soaked fields of France to the haunted forests of Eastern Europe, World War II forged a new world, one forever altered by the emergence of powers no longer bound to legend.
Legacy
The Aftermath of the Second World War
In the aftermath of the Second World War, the world was changed in ways few could fully grasp—altered not just by borders or treaties, but by shifts in possibility itself.
Before the war, superpowered beings were rare—figures of myth, legend, whispered stories. They existed, certainly, but you could count them on one hand. Earth had always produced heroes, had always sung of them in sagas and scripture. But the Second World War brought them—and the monsters that seem almost a prerequisite for heroes—into the modern age.
The first true superheroes had begun to appear in the late 1930s. At first, they were local sensations—curiosities, vigilantes, pulp-paper marvels. But the war changed that. They became icons, warriors, weapons. Some historians mark their rise as the birth of superhero culture—but that’s only part of the truth.
The deeper shift came with the weaponization of superpowers, super-science, and the esoteric. The Axis powers, driven by obsession and desperation, turned to mad science and occult research—creating horrors the world had never seen. And to fight monsters, the Allies needed their own.
That’s when the term super-soldier entered the global lexicon.
Desperation was the spark. Humanity had to forge weapons that could stand beside gods. Heroes were recruited—many joined willingly, choosing to fight shoulder to shoulder with ordinary men and women in uniform. But more were made.
In shadowed laboratories and government bunkers, scientists delved into fringe theories, resurrected half-forgotten arcane texts, and built upon the radical work of early visionaries from what historians now call the Pulp Era. It was there, in those crucibles of ambition and risk, that the first true super-soldiers were born.
They were volunteers, mostly—men, and sometimes women, who offered up their bodies and futures for procedures that might kill them. They did so not for glory, but so that someone—anyone—might be strong enough to stand against the horrors unleashed by the Axis war machine.
The war ended.
But what about the heroes?
What about the super-soldiers?
The world had seen them now—undeniable, unforgettable. But what do you do with a sword once the battle is over? Especially one that can’t be sheathed?
For many, the answer was simple: you keep going.
Some remained in government service, quietly slipping into the emerging architecture of intelligence agencies, secret task forces, or state-sponsored hero programs. Some managed—barely—to set aside what the war had made of them and return to civilian life. But many… they took up a new calling.
They became something else. Something the world had no name for until recently.
They became superheroes.
And, in some cases, supervillains.
People say 1938 was the year the first modern superhero Steller Man appeared. But it was 1947 when they truly arrived—when they stepped fully into the light, no longer soldiers or shadows, but symbols. That year marked the true beginning of what the world would later call the Golden Age of Heroism.
But the birth of superpowered culture wasn’t the only legacy left in war’s wake.
The children of those first super-soldiers—the offspring of those altered by fringe science, strange energies, or failed experiments—they were born different. Born special. Born as what the world now calls Homo Sapiens Extraordinarius aka Extras: naturally occurring superhumans whose very existence began to reshape society, politics, and power structures.
Super-science, once the obsession of lone geniuses and mad inventors, had been mainstreamed. It was no longer myth or miracle—it was policy. It was product. It was power.
Nations, corporations, and private interests saw the potential and raced to exploit it. Super-science could be monetized. Weaponized. Codified. The new arms race wasn’t for nuclear supremacy—it was for the power to build a god. Whether through bleeding-edge technology, biological augmentation, psionic awakening, or forbidden knowledge—be it magical, alien, or something worse—every player sought their piece of the next pantheon.
The world had changed.
And it would never be the same again.
In the aftermath of the Second World War, the world was changed in ways few could fully grasp—altered not just by borders or treaties, but by shifts in possibility itself.
Before the war, superpowered beings were rare—figures of myth, legend, whispered stories. They existed, certainly, but you could count them on one hand. Earth had always produced heroes, had always sung of them in sagas and scripture. But the Second World War brought them—and the monsters that seem almost a prerequisite for heroes—into the modern age.
The first true superheroes had begun to appear in the late 1930s. At first, they were local sensations—curiosities, vigilantes, pulp-paper marvels. But the war changed that. They became icons, warriors, weapons. Some historians mark their rise as the birth of superhero culture—but that’s only part of the truth.
The deeper shift came with the weaponization of superpowers, super-science, and the esoteric. The Axis powers, driven by obsession and desperation, turned to mad science and occult research—creating horrors the world had never seen. And to fight monsters, the Allies needed their own.
That’s when the term super-soldier entered the global lexicon.
Desperation was the spark. Humanity had to forge weapons that could stand beside gods. Heroes were recruited—many joined willingly, choosing to fight shoulder to shoulder with ordinary men and women in uniform. But more were made.
In shadowed laboratories and government bunkers, scientists delved into fringe theories, resurrected half-forgotten arcane texts, and built upon the radical work of early visionaries from what historians now call the Pulp Era. It was there, in those crucibles of ambition and risk, that the first true super-soldiers were born.
They were volunteers, mostly—men, and sometimes women, who offered up their bodies and futures for procedures that might kill them. They did so not for glory, but so that someone—anyone—might be strong enough to stand against the horrors unleashed by the Axis war machine.
The war ended.
But what about the heroes?
What about the super-soldiers?
The world had seen them now—undeniable, unforgettable. But what do you do with a sword once the battle is over? Especially one that can’t be sheathed?
For many, the answer was simple: you keep going.
Some remained in government service, quietly slipping into the emerging architecture of intelligence agencies, secret task forces, or state-sponsored hero programs. Some managed—barely—to set aside what the war had made of them and return to civilian life. But many… they took up a new calling.
They became something else. Something the world had no name for until recently.
They became superheroes.
And, in some cases, supervillains.
People say 1938 was the year the first modern superhero Steller Man appeared. But it was 1947 when they truly arrived—when they stepped fully into the light, no longer soldiers or shadows, but symbols. That year marked the true beginning of what the world would later call the Golden Age of Heroism.
But the birth of superpowered culture wasn’t the only legacy left in war’s wake.
The children of those first super-soldiers—the offspring of those altered by fringe science, strange energies, or failed experiments—they were born different. Born special. Born as what the world now calls Homo Sapiens Extraordinarius aka Extras: naturally occurring superhumans whose very existence began to reshape society, politics, and power structures.
Super-science, once the obsession of lone geniuses and mad inventors, had been mainstreamed. It was no longer myth or miracle—it was policy. It was product. It was power.
Nations, corporations, and private interests saw the potential and raced to exploit it. Super-science could be monetized. Weaponized. Codified. The new arms race wasn’t for nuclear supremacy—it was for the power to build a god. Whether through bleeding-edge technology, biological augmentation, psionic awakening, or forbidden knowledge—be it magical, alien, or something worse—every player sought their piece of the next pantheon.
The world had changed.
And it would never be the same again.
In Literature
Hell’s Front Line: An Oral History of Superhuman Combat in WWII
By Dr. Alandra Pierce (Historian of Paranormal Conflict Studies)
A gripping collection of first-hand accounts from Allied super-soldiers and field mages who survived the war. Stories range from tragic to triumphant, chronicling the impossible choices faced on battlefields where monsters were real and death had many faces.
Wires and Wards: The Falken Doctrine Exposed
By Martin Keswick, defector and former Axis scientist
A banned exposé detailing Dr. Ursula Falken's Reanimates project and the occult rationale behind reanimation. Heavy with technical detail and chilling anecdotes, the book remains controversial for its graphic descriptions and the implications of Allied knowledge.
The Red Hunger Marches: A Study of X-RV Deployment in Asia
By Major Shinji Watanabe (Ret.), translated by Akiko Lee
Written by a former Japanese officer turned whistleblower, this haunting text examines the use of the Red Rabies virus along China’s border regions, blending firsthand military reports with folklore that emerged in its wake.
The Ghost War Diaries
By Sergeant Emil Varga, Polish Resistance Fighter
A memoir styled as a horror novel, documenting encounters with Eiserner Geist units in Eastern Europe. Varga’s chilling, poetic prose helped redefine how the public viewed necrotech warfare and earned him a postwar following.
Steel, Bone, and Black Fire: The Secret War in the Alps
By Captain Isadora Muir, North Force Archives
An action-packed and scholarly hybrid that details a covert battle between Allied specials and a Dämonenreiter enclave hidden beneath the Alps. Known for its precise maps and brutal depictions of supernatural warfare. The Code of the Leaf: Christophan Warrick and the Making of a Hero
By Ellen Foxglove, Superhero Biographer
A reverent biography of Agent Leaf’s wartime service, exploring not just his missions, but his moral compass, friendships, and the quiet burdens he carried long after victory was declared.
Dark Pentagram: The Rise and Fall of Das Schwarze Pentagramm
By Professor Lucien Graves, Occult Historian
A deep dive into the occult and mad science engine that powered much of Nazi Germany’s supernatural warfare efforts. It traces the rise of Thule Society summoners, demon-binding rituals, and their eventual unraveling at the hands of the allied forces heroes.
By Dr. Alandra Pierce (Historian of Paranormal Conflict Studies)
A gripping collection of first-hand accounts from Allied super-soldiers and field mages who survived the war. Stories range from tragic to triumphant, chronicling the impossible choices faced on battlefields where monsters were real and death had many faces.
Wires and Wards: The Falken Doctrine Exposed
By Martin Keswick, defector and former Axis scientist
A banned exposé detailing Dr. Ursula Falken's Reanimates project and the occult rationale behind reanimation. Heavy with technical detail and chilling anecdotes, the book remains controversial for its graphic descriptions and the implications of Allied knowledge.
The Red Hunger Marches: A Study of X-RV Deployment in Asia
By Major Shinji Watanabe (Ret.), translated by Akiko Lee
Written by a former Japanese officer turned whistleblower, this haunting text examines the use of the Red Rabies virus along China’s border regions, blending firsthand military reports with folklore that emerged in its wake.
The Ghost War Diaries
By Sergeant Emil Varga, Polish Resistance Fighter
A memoir styled as a horror novel, documenting encounters with Eiserner Geist units in Eastern Europe. Varga’s chilling, poetic prose helped redefine how the public viewed necrotech warfare and earned him a postwar following.
Steel, Bone, and Black Fire: The Secret War in the Alps
By Captain Isadora Muir, North Force Archives
An action-packed and scholarly hybrid that details a covert battle between Allied specials and a Dämonenreiter enclave hidden beneath the Alps. Known for its precise maps and brutal depictions of supernatural warfare. The Code of the Leaf: Christophan Warrick and the Making of a Hero
By Ellen Foxglove, Superhero Biographer
A reverent biography of Agent Leaf’s wartime service, exploring not just his missions, but his moral compass, friendships, and the quiet burdens he carried long after victory was declared.
Dark Pentagram: The Rise and Fall of Das Schwarze Pentagramm
By Professor Lucien Graves, Occult Historian
A deep dive into the occult and mad science engine that powered much of Nazi Germany’s supernatural warfare efforts. It traces the rise of Thule Society summoners, demon-binding rituals, and their eventual unraveling at the hands of the allied forces heroes.
Technological Advancement
The Second World War was not only a global conflict of ideologies, but a crucible of accelerated innovation. While the world remembers advancements like radar, rocketry, and the atomic bomb, the shadows of the war hid the birth of something more terrifying: super science. The Axis powers, driven by desperation and occult ambition, pioneered experimental fields once thought the stuff of pulp fiction. In response, the Allies launched classified programs of their own.
It was during this war that the first viable cybernetic prostheses were field-tested, crude but functional. Genetic manipulation labs laid the foundation for future tailored lifeforms, while power armor prototypes clanked across remote battlefields, driven by the imaginations of mad genius. Projects in combat robotics and AI analogues emerged in secret German blacksites and Allied think tanks alike, as did early-stage military mecha walkers and vehicles that defield conventional engineering.
Biochemical enhancements, psychic amplifier rigs, dimensional rupture devices, and exoskeletal bracing suits all saw their primitive debuts in the war’s closing years. Though many technologies were buried, banned, or discredited after the war, these early designs would inspire postwar weapons programs, tech based heroes and villains gear development, and the global black market in super-scientific warfare.
The world’s technological threshold had shifted—and there would be no going back.
It was during this war that the first viable cybernetic prostheses were field-tested, crude but functional. Genetic manipulation labs laid the foundation for future tailored lifeforms, while power armor prototypes clanked across remote battlefields, driven by the imaginations of mad genius. Projects in combat robotics and AI analogues emerged in secret German blacksites and Allied think tanks alike, as did early-stage military mecha walkers and vehicles that defield conventional engineering.
Biochemical enhancements, psychic amplifier rigs, dimensional rupture devices, and exoskeletal bracing suits all saw their primitive debuts in the war’s closing years. Though many technologies were buried, banned, or discredited after the war, these early designs would inspire postwar weapons programs, tech based heroes and villains gear development, and the global black market in super-scientific warfare.
The world’s technological threshold had shifted—and there would be no going back.
A small selection of heroes and villains active durring WWII
Allied Nations
Steller Man
The Spirit of Sekhmet
Johnny Liberty
The Boston Bluebird
Agent Leaf
The Ultra-Defender Sergeant Avalanche
Tomasz “Światła” Valerio
Lady Solaris
Lady Avalon
The British Brawler
Firecracker Lass
The Silver Fox
Major Harold Whitaker
Lillian Clarke
Pérák
Shujaa wa Upepo "Warrior of the Wind"
Axis Powers
The Iron Eagle
Doctor Hammer
Officer Heinrich Faustenburg
Doctor Kill-Gore
Professor Pathogen
The Dark Faerie
The Storm Baron
The Creations of the Axis Powers
Projekt Wulfskrieg “Wolf War Project” Artificial Werewolves
Nachtjäger “Night Hunter” The Artificial Vampire
The Sargmaschinen “Coffin Machines”
Eiserner Geist
Falken Reanimates
Dämonenreiter
Red Rabies Zombie
Allied Nations
Steller Man
The Spirit of Sekhmet
Johnny Liberty
The Boston Bluebird
Agent Leaf
The Ultra-Defender Sergeant Avalanche
Tomasz “Światła” Valerio
Lady Solaris
Lady Avalon
The British Brawler
Firecracker Lass
The Silver Fox
Major Harold Whitaker
Lillian Clarke
Pérák
Shujaa wa Upepo "Warrior of the Wind"
Axis Powers
The Iron Eagle
Doctor Hammer
Officer Heinrich Faustenburg
Doctor Kill-Gore
Professor Pathogen
The Dark Faerie
The Storm Baron
The Creations of the Axis Powers
Projekt Wulfskrieg “Wolf War Project” Artificial Werewolves
Nachtjäger “Night Hunter” The Artificial Vampire
The Sargmaschinen “Coffin Machines”
Eiserner Geist
Falken Reanimates
Dämonenreiter
Red Rabies Zombie
Conflict Type
War
Start Date
1 September, 1939
Ending Date
2 September, 1945
Conflict Result
Allied nations Victory
Location
Comments