human
Grimm:  Grimm left Tholter in the tavern and headed out into the cold, breezy night. He turned toward the barracks. He felt bad leaving Tholter, who had wanted to drink the night away in honor of their day off tomorrow, but Grimm couldn’t bring himself to enjoy the alcohol just then, and he wandered through the moonlit night, his ale-warmed body rapidly cooling.
gpt
Grimm:  "What a gorgeous crescent moon… It looks like a sword." The military really had gotten to him. One had to have a certain lack of refinement to notice not the beauty but the sharpness of the moon. But then, in times of war, indulgence and luxury were stripped away from human hearts. This inability to enjoy drink—that, too, had been a new problem for Grimm ever since his first battle.
human
Grimm:  "Tholter’s certainly brave. Maybe he really can be a hero.” Almost every night, Tholter would make for the tavern, sharing drinks with a crowd of strangers. Grimm tried to tell him to stop this behavior, but in truth, he was envious. At least Tholter didn’t freeze up every time he thought of that initial engagement. And what about Grimm himself? Would the next experience of combat make him any happier than the last one? The question tormented him. When he closed his eyes, he saw the flames; when he fell asleep, he saw his comrades who had been reduced to ash; when it was quiet, he could hear their final, agonized screams.
gpt
Grimm:  "And yet I can’t bring myself to quit the army. If I did, I wouldn’t have anything left. Maybe that’s what scares me.” He had left his family and his home behind to come to the capital. Sick of the daily routine, he had joined the army, but now that he knew the fear of death, he wanted to run away from this, too. He hadn’t changed. He was still weak. He had clung to a childish dream in the hope that he would find a place where he might be acknowledged, but then he had hardly been willing to work for it. That, he was sure, defined who he was now.
human
Grimm:  "—?" But then, on his way back to the barracks, absorbed in self-hatred, Grimm stopped. The reason was a noise. He thought he’d heard a faint sound from around the back of the soldiers’ quarters.