《An Extra’s tale》


 A Sprinkle of Transmigration

    Reshi relished the cool wind that gently caressed his cheeks as he left the convenience store, the planting bag rustling softly as he made his way home. This night had been better than most. A night wrapped in the quiet embrace of a dark sky and a full moon. It was one of those rare, peaceful nights where Reshi could almost feel¡­at ease.


    It had been awhile since he had a night like this. No, usually nights would spell hours of darkness, allowing him to remember everything he lost within its empty embrace. The darkness, suffocating, would encapsulate him in his misery, locking the grief within his heart, where it burned.


    He would sit in his dead mother''s room, rocking back and forth, desperately trying to summon the ghost of her warmth, her soft voice, and delicate laugh had always managed to shield him from the darkness.


    But, she''s gone now.


    Instead of the memory of her kindness, instead came the vivid pictures of her death. Wide, lifeless eyes, staring in disbelief as her blood soaked the floor. His father, stern and unyielding, died as he had lived in life, collapsing under the weight of his wounds, his body still covering his younger sister in a final act of protection.


    Not that it had helped.


    And then there was his twin, his mirror, and most definitely the better half of the two. Now he was half a man, hobbling through life on a crutch of grief. Dragging himself through a world that had grown large and strange to him now.


    Sometimes he felt like one of those protagonists in the web novels he loved reading. However instead of being a person with a sad past, transmigrating into a world of magic and happiness. He was the opposite, finding himself in a world that seemed two degrees too cold for him now.


    He stopped walking, his breath ragged as those memories clawed to the surface.


    "No", he whispered hoarsely, shaking his head in an attempt to banish the images.


    "Aah fuck man, my night was going so well. I just had to ruin it, didn''t I."


    Reshi shoved his hands into his pockets, continuing down the dimly lit street, his shadow stretching long and lonely under the flickering streetlights. He had learned to live with this solitude, or maybe he had learned to survive it instead. There was no way he could ever truly accept it, and stay who he had been. His soul felt shrunken and brittle, like the dry husk of someone that had once been...beautiful.


    As he passed a narrow alley, the distinct sounds of scuffling reached his ears, sharp and unmistakably violent.


    ''Who cares'' he thought.


    It had taken years, and the deaths of everyone he had ever loved, but finally, Reshi had abandoned his foolish hero complex. It had cost him everything in the end, and he wasn''t about to lose what he had left by acting on it now.


    ''Guess it someone''s else''s turn to have a shit day.''


    But then a scream rent the tranquility of night. A raw and desperate voice, unmistakably female, and filled with agony. Reshi froze, heart pounding against his ribs.


    But then he continued walking, shaking his head. "Not my damn problem", he muttered under his breath. "Why should I care all of a sudden if it''s a woman having a bad day."


    And then came the second sound. A wailing cry belonging to a boy. Heart-wrenching and miserable. It was the scream of someone, crying for their mother.


    Reshi paused in his tracks, the breath catching in his throat.


    Before he realized what he was doing, his feet were carrying him back to the alley, in a desperate sprint, the noodles forgotten as they tumbled to the ground.


    The scene that greeted him was like something out of a nightmare. A small boy knelt beside a bleeding woman, his tiny hands pressed against her stomach in a futile attempt to stop the crimson flood. Opposite them stood a man in a mask, a knife clutched in his gloved hand, still dripping with fresh blood.


    Rage surged through Reshi like wildfire, burning away the coldness that had encrusted his heart.


    "You fucker!" he roared, charging at the man without a second thought.


    The attacker barely had time to react before Reshi was on him, fists flying in a blind, uncontrollable fury. The knife slashed out, catching Reshi''s hand, but he didn''t care. The pain was distant, drowned beneath the storm raging in his chest. He swung again and again, each blow landing with a sickening crunch.


    He didn''t stop. Even when the man crumpled to the ground, bloodied and gasping, Reshi kept hitting him. His knuckles split open, his breath came in ragged gasps, and tears streamed down his face as he screamed wordlessly into the night.


    Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    When he finally staggered back, his hands were a bloodied mess, trembling as they hung at his sides. He turned to the boy, who was still clutching his mother, his tear-streaked face filled with both fear and defiance.


    "It''s okay, kid," Reshi said hoarsely, raising his hands in a gesture of peace.


    "I just want to help."


    The boy didn''t move at first, but Reshi crouched beside him, his voice softening.


    "Help me carry her. My place is close. I''ve got supplies there to stop the bleeding."


    Slowly, the boy nodded.


    Together, they lifted the woman, Reshi taking most of her weight onto his back. The boy grabbed Reshi''s bag of noodles from the ground, cradling it like a fragile treasure as the made their way to his apartment.


    When they entered, he laid the lady down on his couch, uncaring about the blood that was ruining the furniture. Quickly he rushed to his cupboard, where his medical supplies were.


    Reshi worked with a practised precision of someone who had once been a healer. His hands, while shaking and bloody earlier, now moved with a deft speed as he cleaned and stitched the woman''s wound.


    It was Ironic, he had thought he had stopped playing the hero, yet here he was, ignoring what life had taught him.


    ''Isn''t it madness, to do the same thing again and again, and yet experience different results'' he thought bitterly.


    Reshi had signed himself up to the army at sixteen. At an age where most didn''t know left from right, he had been training to protect his country.


    Back then he had been all about honour and helping the weak, the notion of a hero, firmly wedged into his soul.


    Reshi excelled in the army, he was talented in death. A gifted murderer, but back then he had never seen that way. He was just a hero, serving the Republic loyally.


    Much to the surprise of his men, Reshi had decided to specialise in being a medic. After all, wasn''t a hero more about saving then killing? Then, after fighting on the frontline as a field medic and soldier for two years, he''d been given the opportunity for a funded army scholarship through medical school.


    It had felt like a dream, as if all his efforts had finally paid off. That''s what he''d been doing when his family died, that''s when he realised what truly mattered.


    But of course, life was a bitter bitch, only letting him learn that lesson when it was too late.


    Sighing heavily he leaned back. He had ignored the gaping wound in his own hand as he worked. Almost by instinct, he disinfected his own wound, before bandaging it.


    When he was done, he turned to the boy, who was watching him with cautious, wide eyes.


    "Thank you, mister," the boy said hesitantly. "But¡­I don''t have anything to pay you with."


    Reshi snorted, shaking his head. "Don''t worry about it, kid. I don''t want your money."


    He stood and began preparing the instant noodles, the simplest comfort he could offer. The boy devoured his portion, finishing the meal in moments. Reshi ate more slowly, savoring the warmth that flowed down his throat, as if it really could replace the cold emptiness in his heart.


    "What''s your name, kid?" he asked after a while.


    "Judas," the boy said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.


    Reshi raised an eyebrow. "That''s a hell of a name to give a kid. Who named you?"


    "My father," Judas replied, his expression darkening.


    Reshi nodded. He didn''t want to pry too much into Judas''s life. It was none of his business.


    They passed the time in silence. Then Reshi got up. He returned carrying two spare blankets and pillows. One pillow he placed under the mother''s head, before covering her with the blanket.


    "I''m guessing you want to sleep here right?"


    The boy seemed momentarily shocked, before nodding.


    ''Poor lad didn''t expect i''d let him stay overnight.''


    "Here then. I''ll be sleeping in my room."


    He turned away. The mother most likely wouldn''t wake until tomorrow anyway, and it was pointless to kick them out now after he had risked so much to keep them safe. That''s the reason he told himself anyway.


    When he entered his room, he locked the door. Yes he had helped them, but only an idiot would trust strangers.


    Climbing to his bed, Reshi found that sleep came easily to him. It had been a while before he''d been able to sleep without crying or gazing blankly at the ceiling for hours first.


    It wasn''t bad.

 A new Sun

    When Reshi awoke, it was to the light of a red sun bleeding across a sky choked in polluted greys. The faint, delicate streaks of pink that dared to reach across the pollution looked out of place, as if the skies were no longer a canvas made for heaven''s beauty.


    He smiled. Not wide, not bright. Just a soft, fleeting curve of his lips, so subtle it might have gone unnoticed.


    He couldn''t explain why, but there was something light in his chest, like the remnants of a forgotten dream. The sensation was strange, alien, even. It felt like flexing a muscle long forgotten. But it wasn''t a bad feeling. It was¡­nice.


    ''Mother would be happy I''m smiling again¡­ Maybe I''ll go to her room and tell her.''


    The thought bloomed so naturally, so casually, it startled him. He shifted under the blanket, glancing around.


    And froze.


    He wasn''t in his own bed. He was in hers. His body lay nestled beneath her blanket, his head''s impression still pressed into her pillow. A realization, sharp and heavy, landed with a thud in his chest, chasing away the lightness.


    ''Oh. Right. She''s dead.''


    The world dulled, snapping back to its usual grey. The weight returned a heavy, suffocating thing clinging to his ribs. He got up slowly, moving without purpose until he reached the door.


    The kitchenette greeted him with silence, though it was hardly empty. There on the floor, curled up next to the couch, lay the boy, Judas. He was small, painfully so, and his malnourished frame was easy to spot, even under the blanket. One tiny hand was stretched out, fingers resting against his mothers own outstretched palm.


    Her color had returned to her face in the light of day. Her auburn hair fanned out around her delicate features, softening the signs of hardship etched into her skin. She was¡­ pretty. Maybe even beautiful.


    If Reshi cared about such things, he would''ve noticed. But he didn''t notice. Because he didn''t care, not about anything, not anymore.


    He made his way to the kitchenette, pulling out the dull ingredients he had on hand. His hands moved automatically, cracking synth eggs into a preheated pan, the hiss of synth butter filling the silence.


    He enjoyed cooking. It gave him something to do, a reprieve from thinking too hard.


    ''You fool.'' The thought stabbed through the quiet, sharp and familiar. The wretch within him had finally decided to speak up.


    ''Why''d you go and play the hero again? Haven''t you learned by now?''


    He didn''t remember what, exactly, had compelled him to save them. That part of him, the one that did those things. The part that cared, he had buried it with his family. And yet, there he was. Cooking for strangers.


    When he turned, plates in hand, Judas was already awake. The boy''s dark, unfathomable eyes were fixed on him, watching silently. It was a look that struck Reshi to his core, not for its intensity, but for its familiarity. He''d seen that look before. It had been years, but he remembered.


    ''The eyes of someone who''s seen too much. Fuck, what type of you gotta live to have a soldier''s gaze..''


    "You''re smiling," Judas said softly. His voice was clear, devoid of the shyness most kids his age carried.


    Reshi blinked. Then, with a jolt, he realized the boy was right. He had indeed been smiling. Hurriedly he wiped the expression off his face like it was something shameful.


    "Wake your mother," he instructed, voice flat. "It''s better if a familiar face is the first thing she sees."


    Judas nodded, rising without a word. He crouched by his mother''s side, shaking her gently awake. Reshi stayed back, watching from the kitchen as her eyelids fluttered open, revealing eyes so vividly green they seemed to cut through the room''s muted colors.


    Her reaction was instant¡ªpanic.


    She scrambled away, her body trembling with fear.


    "Mom," Judas said quickly, his small voice anchoring her. "It''s okay. You''re safe. We''re safe. This is the man who rescued us."


    Her breathing steadied, though her eyes darted to Reshi with wariness. He couldn''t blame her. The Republic''s streets weren''t kind to women, and trust was a currency few could afford. He met her gaze, dark and steady, before gesturing to the food.


    "Eat," he said. "You''ll need your strength. There''s no catch, no strings. Just rest."


    Her hesitation was palpable, but hunger overruled caution. Soon, they were all seated on the floor, eating in silence. Reshi was struck again by how good the food tasted, how rich the flavors seemed, even though they shouldn''t have. It was like some strange alchemy had stripped the bitterness from the synth ingredients.


    ''Why does everything taste so good lately?''


    When they''d finished, he leaned back, content to let the silence stretch. But he knew he couldn''t delay the inevitable.


    "What''s your name?" he asked.


    "Mary," she replied, her voice steady. "My name''s Mary."


    Reshi''s lips twitched into a faint smile. "That''s a nice name," he murmured. "My mother''s name was Mary."


    Her expression softened briefly. "And yours?"


    "Reshi."Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.


    She nodded. "Reshi¡­ What happened after I passed out? Judas told me last night, but I want to hear it from you."


    He tilted his head, studying her. There was strength in her gaze, a quiet, unyielding sort of resilience. It reminded him of his mother. Maybe all Marys were strong.


    "I''ll tell you," he said at last, "but first, tell me what happened before."


    Her shoulders tensed, but she answered. "The man who stabbed me, Azazael, he works for the man who¡­ employed me. That night, I tried to escape with my son. They''d been holding him hostage to keep me in line." Her voice wavered but didn''t break, even as tears shimmered in her green eyes.


    "I ran. Azrael came after me. He was going to kill me. To make an example of me."


    Reshi nodded. It wasn''t an uncommon story. Too many women in the Republic lived lives of quiet, endless suffering.


    "After you passed out," he began carefully, "I heard Judas screaming. I fought Azrael. Then me and your son brought you here."


    Mary bowed her head. "Thank you," she said quietly. "I¡­ I have nothing to repay you with,


    but thank you."


    Her words carried more weight than he expected. Gratitude wasn''t something people like her, like him, gave lightly. But then again, there wasn''t much to be grateful for when living in the Republic.


    "It''s fine," he said simply. "Rest up. Stay off the streets for a while."


    And with that, he got up, retreating into his own thoughts. ''Should I have just left them?'' The question gnawed at him, but he pushed it aside. There was no use in wondering now.


    Reshi changed into his work uniform quietly, his movements unhurried. He had a job to get to, though it hardly paid well.


    The Army might have funded his medical school tuition, but they didn''t cover living expenses. And after what had happened to his family, the school had mercifully given him time off, yet bills waited for no one, even if they were grieving.


    This was his life now. A dull rhythm of survival. Until last night, anyway.


    "I''ll be gone for the day," he told Mary as he grabbed his things. "I''ve only got one key, so I''ll have to lock you two in. Bathroom''s down the hall. If you''re tired, my bedroom''s open. There''s a cupboard in there with some clothes that might fit you. Judas can take the smaller room; there are clothes for him too, though they''ll be big."


    Mary nodded wordlessly. Her guardedness was still there, though cracks had begun to show. She wasn''t used to kindness without cost. He could see the conflict in her face. A mix of appreciation and rising fear as she deliberated what he would exact from her in return.


    "Rest," he said, voice softer now. "Eat. And don''t worry."


    With that, Reshi left, locking the door behind him. The long walk to the convenience store gave his mind too much room to wander. His thoughts circled back to Mary and Judas, and he found himself asking the same question over and over.


    ''Why am I doing this?''


    There was no answer. Only the echo of his own doubts and the bitter truth he''d long since learned: life didn''t hesitate to break a man twice if he hadn''t learned his lesson the first time. And Reshi, well he didn''t have a third time in him.


    By the time he reached the store, his mind was a mess of unanswered questions. He pushed them aside as he stepped inside.


    "Morning, Mr. Mik," he greeted.


    The egg-shaped man popped his head up from behind the counter. "Ah, Reshi. Morning. You''re on time, good. I''ve got somewhere to be."


    With a nod, Mr. Mik tossed Reshi the keys and left, leaving him alone in the store. Reshi sighed, settling in for what would undoubtedly be a long, mind-numbing day. He hated working here not because it was hard, but because it gave him too much time to think.


    His mind was a dangerous place to get lost in.


    The first few hours passed uneventfully, until a group of five men sauntered in. Reshi tensed immediately. They were trouble; he could see it in the way they moved, in the heavy weight of their gazes as they surveyed the store.


    He listened carefully as they wandered the aisles, talking loudly among themselves.


    "Yeah, Az got messed up bad. He was sent to take out that girl and her brat, and look what happened to him."


    "Man''s face is wrecked," another added, snickering. "Never thought I''d see Azazael lose a fight. Must''ve been some psycho who got him."


    "Well, that''s why we''re here, ain''t it? Boss sent us to clean up. No way one guy''s gonna take all of us."


    "Yeah. Good chance to show the Boss what we''re made of."


    Reshi kept his head down, his heart hammering in his chest. They''re looking for me. And not just him. Mary and Judas too. He had to stay calm, keep his mask on.


    One of the men approached the counter, slapping a pack of smokes onto it. "Give me this," he said gruffly.


    "Thirty credits," Reshi replied evenly, careful to keep his hands steady. He turned, grabbing the pack with his unbandaged right hand and placing it on the counter.


    The man didn''t move to pay. Instead, he stared at Reshi for a long moment before raising a hand and slapping him across the face. The impact was heavy, sending him stumbling backward.


    "It''s free, you little shit. Everything we want here is free. Got that?"


    Reshi nodded, keeping his eyes down. "Yes, sir."


    The men laughed, their voices loud and grating as they took what they wanted and sauntered out. Reshi waited until they were gone before exhaling shakily, rubbing his stinging cheek.


    ''Fuck me that was close.''


    When Mr. Mik arrived to take over, Reshi explained what had happened. The older man nodded solemnly but said nothing. This wasn''t the first time something like this had happened, and it wouldn''t be the last.


    Reshi left the store, his mind racing. The men had been sent by the same Boss who had sent Azazel. They weren''t just looking for Mary and Judas anymore, they were looking for him. He''d stepped into something dangerous, and now there was no turning back.


    ''Looks like life is gearing for round three'' he thought with humourless mirth.


    By the time he reached his apartment, it was late. The main room was empty, and Judas was asleep in the smaller bedroom. When Reshi opened the door to his own room, he froze.


    Mary was there, lying under the sheets. Her clothes were neatly folded in a pile on the floor, and her bright green eyes met his with an expression he''d seen before. Warm. Inviting. Seductive.


    "Hello, Reshi," she said softly, her voice lilting with practiced ease. "You look tired. Come here, let''s rest together."


    Reshi stared at her, his expression unreadable. For a moment, temptation tugged at him, warm and insidious. Mary was beautiful, there was no denying that. But stronger than his desire was something else. Pity. Deep and aching pity.


    "Stop," he said quietly.


    Her smile faltered. "What do you mean? Don''t you want to? I''m here. I''m¡ª"


    "You don''t have to do this," he interrupted. His voice was firm but not unkind. "I meant what I said earlier. I''m not expecting anything from you."


    Mary''s expression crumbled. "Am I not good enough?" she snapped, her voice trembling. "What more do you want from me?"


    Tears welled in her eyes, and Reshi felt his chest tighten. She hadn''t cried when she spoke of Azrael or the horrors she''d endured. But now, as she tried to offer herself to him, the dam broke.


    "You don''t need to do this," he said again, his voice softer this time. "It''s okay. I promise. You don''t owe me anything."


    Mary''s composure shattered. She sobbed openly, tears streaming down her face as years of pain and humiliation poured out all at once. Reshi stood silently, giving her space. He should''ve comforted her, he knew that. But something stopped him. Despite all the hardships Mary had gone through, she was innocent. A victim, one that had tried her hardest in life.


    But Reshi, well, he was filthy, responsible for so much. And so he stood there silently, separated by a void he couldn''t fully understand.


    After a long while, she spoke, her voice hoarse. "Thank you."


    Reshi nodded. "Put your clothes on," he said gently. "Let me know when you''re done."


    He stepped out, closing the door behind him. He waited, the minutes dragging on until finally, her voice called out to him.


    When he reentered, she was fully clothed, sitting on the edge of the bed. Her eyes were red and swollen, but there was something softer about her now, something unguarded.


    "Thank you," she said again, her voice barely above a whisper.


    Reshi offered her a faint smile. "You already said that."


    She smiled back, it wasn''t the wide seductive smile that she had been forced to use all her life. No, it was small, and embarrassed, and for some reason. Infinitely more precious.


    "That was for saving my life. This is for¡­ for not taking advantage."


    He nodded. "Go get some rest. Your son''s in the other room."


    She hesitated for a moment before standing. "Goodnight, Reshi."


    "Goodnight."


    When she was gone, Reshi collapsed onto his bed. The smile slipped from his face, leaving only exhaustion. Sleep came quickly, sweeping him away into dreams of a time long gone. A time of smiles, warmth, and sunlight.


    And for a few fleeting hours, he was with them again.

 The Secret Ingredient

    Reshi woke up to a dull, gray morning, the kind where the clouds hung so low they seemed to press down on him.


    His heart felt heavy today, a familiar weight. He knew why, it was the wretch again. That part of him he hated most. It whispered in his ear even now, promising that this day wouldn''t be easy. Reminding him of everything he had done, trying to make him curl up in a ball and just die.


    With a sigh, he pushed himself out of bed and trudged to the kitchenette. He hated mornings, but there was comfort he could take in the monotony of his routine. He cracked a couple of synth-eggs into the pan and began frying up breakfast, the soft hiss of oil filling the silence.


    Mary and Judas had been living with him for a week now. It was strange. He hadn''t told them they could stay, but he also hadn''t told them to leave.


    Maybe it was because he knew what would happen if they did. The Boss''s men were still prowling the area, lurking like shadows. If Mary and Judas stepped outside, they''d be captured, or worse.


    Reshi didn''t want that. He didn''t understand why, but he cared about their safety. He really cared.


    It unsettled him. He''d thought himself emptied out long ago, like a puppet whose strings had been cut, no longer dancing on the whims of his naivety. His heroics, his feelings, all of it should have died with his family. Yet every time he thought about telling them to leave, about reclaiming his solitude, he just¡­couldn''t.


    There was a profound wrongness to it.


    He plated three portions of food and set them down on the floor.


    As usual, the sound of his cooking stirred Mary and Judas from his old room. They shuffled in, still groggy from sleep.


    "Hey, Reshi," Mary said, her voice bright despite the gloom.


    "Morning, Mary."


    Judas didn''t say anything, the full might of his focus bearing down on the food. He attacked his plate with the single-minded determination of a child. Reshi felt a small tug at his lips watching the remarkable way Judas managed to open his mouth wide enough to fit in all the food.


    The three of them ate in companionable silence. The food tasted good. It always did when they were around. Since they''d arrived, meals had felt¡­ different. Warmer.


    When they were done, Mary took the plates to the sink and began washing them.


    "You working today?" she asked, her hands moving methodically under the running water.


    "Yeah. Day shift."


    "Okay. Go get changed. I''ll pack you a meal so you don''t get hungry."


    Reshi stood there for a moment, staring at her. Someone making him food,it was such a small thing, so insignificant really. But at the same it was, well¡­warm.


    He didn''t say anything, just nodded and did as she asked. When he returned, Judas was waiting for him on the couch, swinging his legs idly as Mary packed up his lunch.


    "Hey, Judas," Reshi asked, crouching down to meet the boy''s gaze. "What do you want to be when you grow up?"


    "I want to be strong," Judas said immediately. "Like you. That way, I can save people."


    Reshi chuckled. "You don''t want to be stronger than me?"


    Judas thought about it, his face scrunching in concentration. "Yeah, I do. That way, I can protect you too."


    The earnestness in his voice made Reshi smile, a full conscious smile. "I''ll be looking forward to that, then. My little bodyguard, huh?"


    "Yep! But you have to promise to keep making me breakfast every day."This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    "Deal."


    Reshi laughed softly and stood up, taking the packed lunch from Mary. "Thanks."


    "No problem," she said with a smile. She smiled a lot these days, ever since she''d realized Reshi didn''t expect anything from her in return. It was strange to see someone smile so much after everything she''d been through, but he wasn''t complaining. It brightened up the room.


    He left the apartment with her and Judas on his mind.


    The streets were quiet as Reshi made his way to the convenience store where he worked. The morning air carried a faint chill, making him pull his jacket tighter around himself.


    Then he saw them.


    A group of men rounded the corner ahead of him, their voices low and rough. One of them limped, leaning heavily on crutches, his face a mess of bruises.


    Reshi''s stomach dropped. Azazel.


    He recognized the man instantly. Azazel was one of the Boss''s enforcers, the one Reshi had fought off the night Mary and Judas came into his life.


    Panic surged through him, but he forced himself to turn away in a nonchalant manner, as if didn''t recognise the injured face.


    "Hey! You!"


    Reshi froze. His heart pounded so loudly he thought for definite they could hear it. He should run. He should''ve run. But his legs wouldn''t move. It wasn''t just fear, it was as if an invisible hand had gripped him, holding him in place.


    "Oi, I''m talking to you!"


    Two men grabbed him before he could react, their grips like iron.


    "That him, Az?" one of them asked.


    Azazel limped closer, studying Reshi''s face. For a moment, he hesitated, and Reshi dared to hope.


    ''It was dark,'' Reshi thought desperately. ''Maybe he doesn''t recognize me. Please god, just this once, please.''


    But then Azrael''s gaze dropped to Reshi''s left hand. His eyes widened as he saw the bandage wrapped around it, the same hand Azrael had injured in their fight.


    "Yeah," Azazel said, his voice venomous. "That''s the bastard."


    Reshi barely had time to register the words before a fist collided with his jaw. He was out cold before he even hit the ground.


    He dreamed of his family.


    They were in the living room. His mother was in the kitchen, humming as she cooked breakfast. His father sat in his chair, hidden behind a rustling newspaper. His little sister darted around the room, her laughter mixing with the sound of his twin brother''s voice.


    But Reshi wasn''t part of it. He stood apart from them, separated by a sheet of cold, unyielding glass.


    Then his mother turned to him.


    "You know the secret to good food, Reshi?"


    Her voice startled him. She was looking right at him, her dark eyes filled with warmth. Her auburn hair framed her face in soft waves, the same as he remembered.


    She could see him.


    Reshi''s throat tightened. "No, Mom," he whispered.


    She smiled, a radiant curve of warmth and love. "The secret is pride. That''s all you need. Pride in yourself, Resh. When you''re proud of what you''ve done, it makes the sun seem brighter. It makes the gloom feel weaker, the day a little better, and the food a little nicer."


    Reshi tried to move closer, to reach for her, but invisible hands began pulling him back.


    "No! I want to stay! I don''t want to go!"


    The living room dissolved into darkness, and her gaze was the last thing to fade. A gaze so utterly warm, a gaze with absolute trust, in him.


    Reshi woke with a pounding headache. He was in a dark room, his wrists tied tightly behind him. Around him were men with knives and guns, the Boss''s men.


    He shook his head wearily. He''d been dreaming about something. Something to do with his, mother?


    "Well, well," a deep, rich voice drawled, stealing his attention.


    Reshi looked up and saw him. The Boss.


    Tall and broad-shouldered, with dark, piercing eyes and hair like midnight, he sat in a chair with a relaxed confidence, a flicker of amusement in his gaze.


    "Hello, Reshi. We''ve got a lot to talk about, don''t we?"


    "I¡­ I don''t understand," Reshi stammered, his voice barely audible.


    The Boss tilted his head, feigning patience. "Oh, don''t you? That''s funny. After all, you beat up my right-hand man and


    took my wife and kid."


    The words hit Reshi like a hammer. Mary. Judas.


    "I¡­ I didn''t¡ª"


    "Don''t waste my time with stuttering, boy." The Boss''s tone was calm, almost gentle, but the malice beneath it was unmistakable. "You know who I''m talking about. Now, let''s make this simple: where are they?"


    Reshi''s mouth went dry.


    The wretch chose that moment to continue its whispers to him again.


    ''Give them up. Why are you hesitating? You barely know them. Haven''t you learned by now? Caring gets you killed. Being a hero is a fool''s game. Give them up, and this will all go away!''


    His heart screamed at him to resist, but fear wrapped around him like chains. The Boss leaned forward, his dark eyes pinning Reshi in place.


    "If you don''t tell me," he said, his voice soft and venomous, "I''ll find them anyway. And when I do, they''ll die screaming your name. But if you cooperate¡­ well, I promise they''ll live, and they won''t ever know what you''ve done."


    A sickening smile curled across the Boss''s lips, a predator sensing victory.


    Reshi closed his eyes, his body trembling. The wretch pressed harder, insidious and relentless.


    ''It''s for their own good, it lied. If they don''t know you betrayed them, it won''t matter. You''ll be helping them.''


    His resolve cracked. The weight of the Boss''s words, the fear of what would happen to him, the voice of the wretch¡ªit was too much. He heard himself speak, the words spilling out before he could stop them.


    "They''re¡­ they''re at my flat. 33AD Friday Street."


    The silence that followed was suffocating.


    "There you go," the Boss said, his voice almost cheerful. "That wasn''t so hard, was it?"


    Reshi kept his eyes downcast as they dragged him out of the building and dumped him onto the street. He didn''t fight back. He didn''t even look at them.


    When the van drove away, he crawled to the curb and curled into a ball. Tears streamed down his face, hot and relentless. He hated himself. He hated his weakness. He hated the wretch.


    That night, Reshi dreamed again.


    The living room was empty. No laughter, no humming, no warmth. Just silence.


    When he woke, it was dark outside. The cold bit at his skin as he forced himself to stand, his legs unsteady beneath him. He knew what he would find when he returned to the flat.


    The door was ajar, hanging crooked on its hinges. The apartment was eerily quiet, the kind of silence that swallowed sound. They were gone.


    He walked into the kitchen and began cooking. Two synth-eggs. Three slices of toast. He plated the food and sat on the floor, staring at the empty space where Mary and Judas used to sit.


    He took a bite.


    It was sour. Bitter. The taste of ash. He spat it out, coughing.


    Reshi stared at the plate, the wretch whispering again, louder now, in a victorious tone.


    ''This is how it was meant to be. Quiet. Empty. You''ll never fail anyone again.''


    Then, like a flicker of sunlight through storm clouds, he remembered his dream. His mother''s voice.


    ''The secret is pride. That''s all you need. Pride in yourself, Resh. When you''re proud of what you''ve done, it makes the sun seem brighter. It makes the gloom feel weaker, the day a little better, and the food a little nicer.''


    The wretch recoiled, its grip on him loosening. Reshi looked down at the plate again, his thoughts racing.


    He could close his eyes and live with this emptiness, this bitterness, for the rest of his life.


    Or¡­ he could do something good. Something amazing. Something a lesser man would call¡­insane.


    Reshi smiled, a small, tentative curve of his lips as he formed his resolve.


    It felt good. Warm.


    Like a resurrection.

 The Resurrection

    Reshi left the flat half an hour later, his resolve cold and unwavering. He carried a standard-issue pistol and a small arsenal of hunting knives strapped securely to his belt. Each step he took was deliberate, every breath measured.


    He found himself retracing his steps to the spot where the van had dumped him like garbage. Out of habit, during the ride, he''d counted every turn, right, left, straight, tracking the klicks in his head. Now, he reversed the path, one calculated step at a time.


    The streets were quiet, the kind of quiet that filled the air before a storm. Reshi felt the old him returning with each step he took. He used to want to protect, even at the cost of his life, and he felt that man returning. Waking up from his slumber of grief and misery. His heart was steady, and for the first time in a long time, he felt a faint spark of something he thought he''d lost forever: purpose.


    ''Maybe changing was never the way after all,'' he mused, a faint smile on his face. It felt good to be back.


    It wasn''t long before the abandoned building loomed ahead, its silhouette jagged and broken against the night sky.


    He hesitated for only a moment. "God, you''ve never answered me before. But I figure you owe me one. Let me save them. Please."


    He stepped inside, moving like a shadow. His gun was raised, his ears tuned to every creak and whisper of the decaying structure. The building was divided into three large rooms. He entered the first one carefully, his eyes scanning every corner. It was empty.


    The second room was also barren, save for a body crumpled on the floor, encircled by a pool of blood.


    Reshi''s heart sank.


    "Mary," he croaked, his voice breaking as he knelt beside her.


    Her face was barely recognizable beneath the bruises and cuts. Her chest rose and fell in shallow, labored breaths. Yet somehow, when her green eyes fluttered open and landed on him, she smiled.


    "Hey, Reshi," she whispered, her voice soft, like a fragile thread.


    "I... I''m so sorry, Mary. This is all my fault. I failed you. I''m so, so sorry." Tears blurred his vision, spilling freely down his face.


    She shook her head weakly, her smile unwavering. "Shhh. You don''t owe me an apology. You saved me once. You gave me a week of happiness I never thought I''d have. That was more than I ever thought possible, so thank you Reshi."


    Reshi''s throat tightened. "It shouldn''t have been just a week. It should''ve been so much longer."


    Mary laughed softly, though it turned into a cough, flecks of blood staining her lips. "Is that an offer? You want me to move in now? You don''t waste time, do you? You''ll be proposing next."Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.


    Reshi managed a weak chuckle through his tears. "How about it, Mary? After I save Judas, the three of us will live together. A fresh start. What do you think? But you have to stay alive."


    Her eyes glimmered, though they were unfocused now. "Sounds nice. Alright then, it''s a deal."


    He held her hand tightly. "It''s a deal," he promised.


    Minutes later, her breaths slowed... until they stopped entirely. Her hand went limp in his, and her vibrant green eyes fluttered closed, never to open again.


    Reshi knelt there, his mind a storm of grief and guilt. The wretch was back, whispering insidious thoughts into his ear.


    ''Failed her, didn''t you? All you bring is death. You''re a monster. Just give up. Just go in a corner and die.''


    But he didn''t give in this time. Not again. He shoved the thoughts aside and rose slowly to his feet, his hand gripping the pistol tightly, rage clearing his mind.


    There was still Judas.


    He made his way to the third room, his movements quieter than the breath of the dead. Without hesitation, he kicked the door open, the sound like thunder in the silence.


    The room was filled with twelve men. All of them turned at the sound of the crash. Four of them were dead before they even realized what had happened, their bodies crumpling to the floor as Reshi''s bullets found their marks.


    He ducked behind a rusting piece of furniture just as the remaining gunmen opened fire. The air was thick with the crack of gunfire and the acrid smell of smoke.


    Peeking over the edge, Reshi fired again, hitting one of the shooters twice¡ªonce in the chest, once in the shoulder. Before he could duck back into cover, a bullet tore through his own shoulder.


    Pain flared, hot and sharp, but he forced himself to roll out of cover, squeezing the trigger and watching as his second target''s head exploded in a remarkable display of pistol art on the wall behind.


    His gun clicked. Jammed.


    "Shit."


    He threw the weapon at the nearest thug, causing the man to flinch. In the same motion, Reshi unsheathed a knife and lunged forward. The man swung a metal bat with wild force, but Reshi ducked low, driving the blade upwards into his throat. Blood sprayed as the man gurgled and collapsed.


    But before Reshi could breathe, a knife stabbed into his side.


    He stumbled forward, the pain a white-hot lance. Then the bat connected with his face, shattering his nose with a sickening crunch and sending him sprawling to the floor.


    Through the haze of pain, he scrambled to his feet. His vision was blurry, his body trembling, but his mind was clear. He charged forward with a primal roar, sinking his teeth into the second attacker''s throat and ripping it out.


    Hands grabbed him from behind, dragging him to the ground. A boot slammed into his ribs, the crack of bones echoing in the room.


    "Stop."


    The voice was calm, smooth and utterly commanding.


    Reshi was hauled to his knees. Through the blood and sweat clouding his vision, he saw the Boss. He stood tall and composed, one arm holding a pistol, the other wrapped around Judas.


    Judas was unharmed.


    "Again, we meet, Reshi," the Boss said, his tone almost conversational. "You''ve caused me quite a bit of trouble, you know. Like a piece of gum on my shoes."


    He handed the pistol to Judas. "This man is the reason your mother is dead. If you want my forgiveness, kill him."


    Judas trembled, his small hands barely able to hold the gun.


    Reshi smiled through the blood and pain. "It''s okay, Judas. Don''t be afraid."


    "You killed my mother," Judas whispered, his voice breaking.


    "Yes," Reshi admitted, his voice soft. "And I''m so sorry, Judas."


    A gunshot echoed in the room.


    Reshi felt the bullet pierce his chest, and he fell backward, the world tilting as he fell to the floor.


    First Person - Reshi


    I heard the clatter of the gun, followed by the sound of small footsteps. Judas''s face swam into view, his tears falling onto my bloodied face.


    I smiled, feeling something strange. A profound peace, gentle and warm like rays of sunlight. It''s funny, only when I was dying did I realise the truth. I''d been afraid of living, never of dying. Living without my family, living without being me. Ahh man, it was honestly a shame.


    I wonder what life I could''ve lived, if I could do it again. I''d live properly, I''d do it right.


    "Why''d you come?" Judas sobbed.


    I reached up, my hand brushing his face. "Because, Judas... what would I do without my bodyguard?"


    Beyond him, I saw the living room again. My family was there, my father with his newspaper, my mother cooking, my siblings laughing.


    And there was another. Mary. Her green eyes were shining, as she smiled warmly at me.


    I tried to reach for them, but my hand fell short, landing on Judas''s cheek instead.


    "You''ve only got one life, Judas. Don''t waste it... like I did" I coughed.


    Then the darkness swallowed me whole. With one final sigh, I felt my soul leave the world behind.

 The Worst Type of Isekai

    Reshi found himself standing in a plane of endless blinding light. Squinting, it took a while before he was able to distinguish between the various shades of blinding white. Soon the walls formed into intricate walls as Reshi realised he was inside a palace.


    It was a truly breathtaking place, well that would be if he had lungs to breathe. But at the same time it was extremely disconcerting. The palace didn''t seem to obey any of the rules of the world, and it skewed with his perception of distance. Some things got closer and then further, even though they never moved, only distance itself changed.


    Shaking his head to dispel the growing migraine, Reshi decided it was safe to probably just look at the floor. This place was painful to look at.


    "So, you died now."


    Looking up he saw a figure emerging from the light, as if formed from it. It had the appearance of a man, but Reshi was under no illusions that the person in front of him was actually human.


    For one, he was way too handsome.


    He was tall, with delicate, regal features. He had a pair of bright golden larger eyes that rested warmly on Reshi, and long bright golden hair that complemented his pale smooth skin.


    "A-are you god?" Reshi stammered.


    The man laughed, a pure beautiful sound that engulfed the palace in its warmth. "No, well not in the sense you think anyway Reshi. But perhaps, I am your god Reshi. You can call me Sun."


    "Can I ask a question, uhh, Mr Sun", Reshi asked hesitantly as he approached the deity.


    "Of course."


    "First things first, I''m dead right?"


    The deity smiled, revealing a row of perfect teeth. "Oh yes, you are most definitely dead. Irrevocably so, you can never walk those streets again anyway."


    "So it was you who decided my death right?"


    Sun laughed again, "Perhaps, in a way. I am your god after all"


    "What do you mean, my god? I''m an atheist."


    Instead of laughing, Sun fixed his burning bright gold eyes to him.


    Sun stepped forward, his mesmerizing golden eyes, transfixed on him. "I am your god Reshi. I made you. It was me that put you into this world, it was I who gave you to your mother. It was me who witnessed your birth at her hand, and it was me who held the shovel with you as you buried her. It was I who blessed you, punished and guided you. It was me who gave you life, and at the end, it was me that allowed you to die. Your whole life it was me you served. Whether you knew it or not. Your every action worshipped me, every good you did was attributed to me, and every bad you did was forgiven by me."


    Reshi nodded. "Thank you, that answers everything." Calmly he walked up to Sun, a soft smile on his face. "Yes, that''s all I needed to know." Smiling, he did the next obvious thing a person would do when seeing their deity for the first time.


    He punched him. Hard.


    Screaming, Reshi pulled his fist back. His fingers had broken off the deity''s chin as if he had struck a diamond. Glaring at the deity, he tried striking him again with his unbroken hand. However this time Sun caught the blow easily, his golden eyes drilling into Reshi.


    Reshi felt himself faltering under the gaze, until finally, he spoke up.


    "It was you who killed my family, you made them die that way."


    Sun tilted his head slightly. "Shame, I really did hope we could be civil about this." With a nonchalant manner, he struck Reshi, causing him to fly back as he crashed into the far wall.


    "You blame me for their deaths. You, who begged for this", Sun started forward threateningly, as if he was a predator stalking forward. However when Reshi looked into his eyes, all he could see was a deep sadness that contradicted the deity''s apparent rage. Somehow, Reshi felt that Sun felt his pain. He understood it. Truly understood.


    ''Fucks sake, he didn''t have to slap me to next week'', Reshi groaned inwardly. But he found that nothing was broken, and that apart from the shock of flying into a wall, he was in no pain.


    Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.


    "Tell me, do you blame the sky when it rains? Even if the result is a flood that kills thousands?" Sun called. "No, you don''t. Do you scream at starvation if a famine obliterates a family. Or perhaps you battle mountains when people die on them. No. This would be madness. Everyone''s death was the result of something blameworthy, true. Maybe those who starved did so because someone else withheld essential supplies. Would that person be blamed? Yes. That person''s actions may be the result of their death, but he wasn''t their cause, that was famine. So tell me why Reshi, why do you try to get angry at the cause. Make no mistake, Reshi son of compassion, everyone''s death has blame, in a pointless, mortal sense, even if their cause is me.


    But you do not blame me. "


    Reshi looked down. He hated to admit that Sun was right. Hated to admit that the deity had no blame for the death of his family, that rested solely on him.


    "But why", he stammered, trying to hold back his tears. "Why did they have to die like that?"


    Sun smiled sadly, approaching Reshi who was still on the floor. However, instead of striking him, the deity knelt, wrapping Reshi in his arms.


    "Because it had to be done. So that perhaps next time, you could be better. The question you should ask is, " why did you trust her?"


    Reshi bent his head, burying himself in Sun''s embrace. ''He''s right of course. It was my fault they died. It''s pathetic to try and blame it on him. It was my decision to do it. And mine alone.''


    Without realising, he was crying again, crying like he had never done before. Always his tears had been soft, and silent. Only done in the comfort of the moments before sleep, when he felt the most alone. They had provided no relief.


    But now Reshi truly cried. Truly letting the building crescendo of misery, loneliness and grief free as they flowed out through tears and sobs. He didn''t know how long he cried, but Sun never said anything. Just hugging Reshi close, allowing the latter to finally grieve.


    After he had managed to compose himself, the deity let him go. Slightly embarrassed to have been crying, Reshi got up from the floor, wiping the tears off his face.


    "Did my family pass through here?"


    "They passed on Reshi. Your brother asked me to relay a message to you."


    Reshi looked at him, locking eyes with the deity. "Yes?"


    "He said, he doesn''t want to see you on the other side anytime soon."


    That made him smile. It was something Joseph would say. He could imagine seeing his twin''s twinkling eyes, wisdom dancing within their pupils as he politely asked Sun to relay this message.


    ''He probably bowed first, the polite little git'' he thought with a twinge of a smile.


    "So that leads me to my next point", continued Sun.


    "It''s time for my part of the bargain, Reshi"


    Reshi looked up, eyes wide. "So I am being isekaid."


    "In a way, yes. I guess that''s how you would see it. Maybe I should''ve prepared a Truck for you or something."


    ''Huh, I guess even deities respect the tropes.''


    "Huh, do I get any bonuses if I was to reincarnate. Like something OP."


    Sun laughed, "Yes. You get to live twice. That''s pretty OP." Reshi gave him a blank stare. "Something better, Sun. You''re really not going to help your sacred believer."


    "Hmmm, I guess I should show a little favouritism. Alright then. I''ll give you my concept. I believe now that you deserve it."


    "Uhhh, what''s that."


    Sun smiled, "If you''re anyone worth anything. You''ll find out, Son of compassion."


    Reshi felt hands dragging him down. Invisible hands that were pulling away from the palace of light.


    "Wait! Judas, does he live?" Sun gave him a knowing look. "Yes. In the end you honoured his mother''s dying wish."


    "Will you give him a message from me?"


    Sun shook his head sadly. "He does not worship me, Son of Compassion. His fate belongs to another. I would not have him among my followers. But, if you become strong, maybe you could change that. Who knows."


    He smiled at the glint of ambition in Reshi''s eyes as the mortal slowly disappeared from the infinity castle, his soul cast back down into the world.


    "Take care, my only son."


    ....


    When Reshi opened his eyes, he was lying on his bed. No that wasn''t right, he thought. My bed was never this comfy, or big. Slowly getting up, he realised that he wasn''t in his room at all. But damn, he wished this place was his room.


    The room was easily thrice as large as his flat''s main room, including the kitchenette. It was furnished with the most lavish things Reshi had ever laid his eyes on.


    ''Where the hell am i?''


    Clambering out of this ridiculously comfortable bed, Reshi decided to take a look around this unfamiliar place. Sun had said he was being sent to another world, but he never said how. Honestly, Reshi had expected to be reborn as a baby with an adult mind, as he slowly grew up in the world. It was a pleasant surprise to see that hadn''t happened. In his head, reincarnating was the second worst way of being isekaid in a novel. So many damn chapters were wasted on the Main Character as a kid that the MC ended up becoming some 10 year prodigy that killed thousands before his balls dropped.


    ''Maybe I''ve just been teleported to another world then?''


    As he walked, he passed the mirror, and caught something in the reflection. Freezing, Reshi slowly walked past, eyeing the figure in front of him.


    Reshi had been proud of his dark black, curly hair, but now it had become pale white. His deep dark eyes were now replaced with scarlet ones. A deep scarlet. The figure was also younger than he had been, around fifteen he estimated. The boy had regal features, and was undeniably handsome, with pale white smooth skin, and a skinny build.


    "Who the fuck is this guy?" Reshi asked aloud. He saw the figure in the mirror form those same words, and then the horror settled on him.


    ''Fuck me! Sun you bastard, you transmigrated me, that''s the worst one?''


    Stumbling back, Reshi sat down on one crazily lavish chair, as he contemplated the situation.


    Honestly, apart from the fact he was possessing someone else''s body, and was going to mimic and take advantage of everyone that person had ever loved and cared for. This wasn''t bad.


    ''At least I''m possessing someone rich, and handsome.''


    Just as he was about to get up, a blinding pain erupted in his head, as memories that weren''t his own flashed past.


    "AAHHHHRG", he screamed, clutching his head.


    Memories surged through his head, the memories of this person. When the pain had passed, Reshi laid back down on the seat he was about to vacate.


    ''Ahh shit.''


    Reshi knew who this person was. He knew everything. His was in a fucking novel, and right now he was screwed. It was a novel called the ''Requiem of Retribution.'' It was a novel written as a joint work between two of his favourite authors. Raguel0321 and the Bl33d1ng Cr0ss. It was your classical modern fantasy novel, but Reshi loved it, and supported the Author as much as he could in order to read the end. He never got so far though, dying before the release of the next volume.


    However, that wasn''t the reason he was so worried. It was because Reshi knew who he had transmigrated into now. It wasn''t any of the main cast, nor was it a random extra. It was a side antagonist, someone unimportant except to enhance the background of one of the main cast.


    His name was Arthur Gravewalker, the second youngest son of a Duke household, and today was the day he was about to get fucked over.

 My First day in a new world

    Reshi paced back and forth in this insanely lavish room, his young features contorted into worry. Arthur Gravewalker. Why the fuck did it have to be him of all people.


    ''Why couldn''t I just be rich'' he lamented. ''Fuck''s sake Sun. What happened to showing a bit of mercy for this sacred believer?''


    Arthur Gravewalker was a minor antagonist in one of the female main casts past. Someone used to explain why she was generally untrusting and rude initially. After all, Arthur Gravewalker had tried to forcefully take advantage of her. Arthur was someone who used to be her childhood friend, and it left her with severe trust issues.


    Reshi could see the memories of Arthur, cringing as he desperately wished he could be someone else. Anyone else. If there was anything he would not want to be accused of, this was definitely one of the top. He had never been that type of person, no matter what. Even when Mary had tried to seduce him out of fear for her own safety. But now he was going to be punished for it. In the novel, his father, Duke Gravewalker had banished Arthur for the act, giving him a sentence worse than death. But then again, Reshi couldn''t really blame him. He was the Duke, and Duke Gravewalker obeyed the law to a fault. Arthur was going to serve as an everlasting example of that.


    Beforehand, his father, no, Arthur''s father summoned Arthur to court, and passed judgement under a full court. Reshi remembered reading that further on in the novel as Alara, the person Arthur had tried to take advantage of, explained to the main cast what happened to her. It was a great moment of healing and progression in Elara''s character.


    But right now, It meant he was going to get fucked.


    Reshi could feel Arthur''s memories as his own, as if he had done it, and it made him feel sick.


    Today was the day Duke Gravewalker would sentence his son. He had waited for the full court to assemble before doing so, making sure everyone saw the justice of House Gravewalker.


    This world was called Pandora. It had three mega continents where the three races ruled retrospectively. The elves, dwarves and humans. However these weren''t races that vacated their own planets and sought refuge with humans. No, in fact it was quite the opposite. Humanity was the last of the three races to arrive on Pandora, seeking refuge after the Earth was destroyed hundreds of years ago. All three races had settled on Pandora for differing reasons, which were kept secret from the main cast. They never even knew how Earth was destroyed. The two authors hadn''t managed to get far before Reshi died. He knew mana existed on this planet, and it slowly altered humans until, soon after arriving on Pandora, humans gained the ability to wield mana, like the other races. He had died right after they revealed the existence of demons, and another world that existed synonymous with Pandora.


    ''Ahh man I was looking to the next chapter'', Reshi thought sadly. It was funny, now that he had died, only now did he miss somethings in his old world.


    Trying to clear his thoughts, Reshi tried to calm his heart. Any moment now he''d be summoned by his butler to court. It was meant to come as a surprise to the original Arthur, who originally believed he had escaped any further punishment. The pompous little brat thought being sent to his room was enough of a punishment.


    "Hhaaahhh", exhaling Reshi sat down.


    It was getting confusing to keep hating himself. The memories of that night seemed hazy, but that was probably because he was high when he did it. ''I should properly change, make myself presentable at least.''


    Reshi changed into a formal suit. It was a deep black suit, with a black tie and maroon shirt. It fit him well, complimenting his features nicely. In the novel, Arthur had screamed and threw a tantrum at court, maybe if he was more composed, he could get a lighter punishment. Maybe.


    Mere moments after he changed there was a knock on his door as his butler entered.


    It was a boy around his age, with black hair and hazel eyes, donning a butler''s uniform. He bowed as he entered, fumbling over his words as he tried to stop himself from shivering in Arthur''s presence.


    "M-Master Gravewalker, you''ve been s-summoned by y-y-your f-father." Reshi sighed sadly. This was Renis, his personal butler and bodyguard. Arthur had bullied the boy harshly, causing him to develop a stammer. Of course Arthur being who he was, further bullied the poor boy. He felt a strong pang of guilt looking at Renis. The boy had been nothing but obedient for Arthur, yet he''d been treated as trash. Reshi could remember how he had tortured Renis over the years, mercilessly. He knew, having Arthur''s memories, that Arthur didn''t even hate Renis. He had no reason to be cruel. It was like a pastime for him.


    Trying to mimic Arthur, he responded in an aloof tone. "Let''s go then Renis."


    Renis''s eyes looked up for a moment, a twinge of shock on his face. But he hid it quickly and nodded in subservience. "Yes Master."


    Taking a deep breath, Reshi allowed himself to be escorted to the main court, where his father, the Duke, would pass laws and punish if the crime was severe enough to attract his attention.


    Reshi wanted to do something to make amends with Renis before he entered the court. Even though it hadn''t been him who bullied Renis, possessing Arthur''s body and memories, Reshi couldn''t help but be responsible.


    He approached Renis, reaching into his pocket.


    Renis froze out of fear as Arthur approached. However, to his shock, Arthur pulled out a large bundle of money.


    "Here Renis, take it."


    Renis froze. Was this another trick by Arthur? Would he punish him for taking the money, or for disobeying his orders. It seemed either way, Arthur would have a reason to punish him.


    Resigning himself to his fate, Renis decided to take the money offered by his master, fully expecting Arthur to attack him for it. To his surprise, Arthur allowed him to do so, with a soft smile.


    "Renis, I know you''re saving up to attend the Royal academy" his master said, his voice calm and measured.


    Renis froze. ''How does he know? How?'' He kept his head down, Arthur hadn''t known anything about him beforehand. Not even his name. He''d always call him Stammer instead. So how would he know about my aspirations Renis thought, worried.


    "Use this money towards that Renis. That''s all I wanted to say." Arthur gave Renis a pat on the shoulders before leaving him, entering through the large engraved double doors into court.


    This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    Renis stood there frozen. He had been overjoyed when he found out that Arthur was finally getting punished. Ecstatic that the person who had made his life hell would finally have to bear responsibilities for his own actions. But that same person had just given him money for his dream, twice as much money as he saved in his entire life. He stood there, frozen in conflict, staring at the pile of cash in his hand.


    Reshi smiled inwardly as he entered court. It gave him some small happiness to see the look of shock on Renis''s face when he gave the money. As he entered everyone turned to him, silence enveloping the court. The noble sat on stands at either side of the hall. At the far end, opposite the entrance was the Duke''s platform. It overlooked the hall from up high. There the Duke was standing, looking at him with unforgiving eyes.


    He had the same scarlet eyes as Arthur. But instead of white hair, his was dark, cropped in a short military cut. Reflexively, Reshi looked down as he saw his-no, Arthur''s father. He felt fear wrap around his body, as if a snake had coiled around him. It was Arthur''s fear of his father. Head bowed he walked forward, before kneeling in front of the raised stand where the Duke stood.


    "I have arrived, father."


    "I am not your father. I am your Lord", Duke Gravewalker''s cold voice cut through the hall.


    Reshi felt a stab to his heart when the Duke said that. Even though it wasn''t his father, he had all the memories Arthur did, and so the words still managed to cut deeply.


    "Yes Duke", Reshi croaked, trying to keep reminding himself that this wasn''t his father but Arthur''s.


    "Do you know why you have been summoned here today?" The Duke called, his voice unrelenting and cold.


    "I am here to answer for my crime, Duke", Reshi responded, tears forming in his eyes now. He decided that his survival rested on acting the exact opposite Arthur had done.


    "So you don''t deny it", the Duke sneered. "You have been summoned for the crime of the attempting rape of Elara Thanason, the daughter of one of our supporting noble houses. Do you accept this?"


    Reshi gritted his teeth, trying to keep himself from trembling. Even as a kid, he had hated being accused for something he didn''t do. Even if it was something tiny, the principle of being wrongly accused had caused him to get into a lot of fights as a kid. And now he was being accused of something publicly, something he never did, but at the same time couldn''t say he didn''t. It was torture.


    In a strained voice he responded, head down. "Yes." Reshi kept his gaze on the floor, too ashamed to even look up.


    "I see. Your punishment will be banishment. You will be stripped of your noble title, branded a criminal and left to the streets" the Duke spat, anger obscuring his previously impassive features. "You''re a disgrace to my name. I renounce you."


    Reshi let out a heavy breath. So, even acting the opposite of Arthur had done nothing to save him.


    "May I speak Duke", Reshi asked, raising his head for the first time to meet his father''s eyes.


    The Duke kept silent, and Arthur took it for a sign of acceptance.


    "I ask for mercy, instead of being branded a criminal, I wish to be sent to the army instead for a chance to prove myself worthy of the name Gravewalker."


    The Duke leaned forward. Duke Reynolds Gravewalker was someone with a long standing military career, and he knew that this was the only prospect that could interest him.


    "You no longer have the name Gravewalker boy. You are stripped of your title. But if you want mercy, you should beg someone else shouldn''t you?" The Duke smiled as he spoke, anger blazing in his scarlet eyes


    Reshi wanted to laugh despite his situation. He knew the Duke would''ve accepted his proposal anyway, but he wanted Arthur to feel as much embarrassment as possible first.


    ''It''s only fitting in his eyes''


    Turning Reshi faced the stand where he knew Elara stood. She was a girl his age, they had been friends once. In the past, before he changed. She had pale skin, and large deep midnight pools for eyes. Her dark midnight hair was pulled back into a ponytail. She was dressed in a loose dress that obscured her figure. Her eyes, which were currently filled with unbridled rage, bore down on him.


    Reshi dropped his gaze, it hurt to look at her. Standing up he bowed towards Elara. "Lady Thanason, I beg for mercy." He failed to keep his voice neutral as he bowed. He stayed in that position, waiting for her reply. It shocked him to see that tears were falling from his face, silently splashing onto the floor. Arthur''s memories made the entire experience much more painful.


    Elara never said anything, but she must''ve given her ascent to the Duke as moments later his father''s cold voice rang out.


    "You will be stripped of your title, and sent to the army as a criminal. We will leave your fate to the gods, if they want to dirt their hands with you."


    Tears fell freely now. Even though he had gotten what he wanted, it hurt. He had been forsaken by his family, branded a rapist and now, as an act of mercy, he was being sent to die. And even that he had to beg for.


    "Guards", called the Duke, "Throw the criminal in the dungeon."


    Two Guards approached. One of them struck him in the stomach, causing him to double over. They grabbed his hands, cuffing him. Then they both dragged him out of the courtroom. Arthur never made a sound, even when they hit him. He kept his head down, trying to hide his face from the court, as tears fell freely.


    The Duke turned around, leaving the court through an entrance that was reserved for him only. As soon as he entered his private rooms, he let his stoic posture finally crumble away. Leaning on the wall the Duke closed his eyes, trying to calm himself.


    ''Why Arthur. Why did you make me do this.''


    He felt it was his fault. He had never spent enough attention on his children, focusing on his duty more than his own family. He hadn''t seen what Arthur had become until it was already too late. Maybe if he had done something earlier, maybe he could''ve prevented it.


    ''Just why Arthur?''


    ///////////////


    Reshi sat in the dungeon, burying his face in his hands. He felt empty again, like a mere flesh husk. He didn''t know who he was. Was he Arthur the Rapist, or perhaps Reshi, the one who betrayed his family and let them die. He didn''t want to be anyone any more. He''d much rather sleep now, and never wake up.


    ''Even in this life, even here, my life is shit.''


    He heard the gates creeping open and two figures entered. Looking up through his fringe of white hair, he saw Elara, and her father. Lord Thanason. He was a large imposing figure, with dark hair and yellow eyes. He was my father''s right hand man, and the father of the person I-no, Arthur tried to force.


    "Open the gate soldier, return after 30 minutes. I want to have some time with the criminal", Lord Thanason''s voice rang out. The guard nodded, leaving his post. He wasn''t supposed to leave his post, but he did so anyway under Lord Thanason''s command.


    "So, it was you."


    Reshi kept silent, keeping his face hung low. He felt so tired. So unbelievably exhausted.


    Lord Thanason approached, and kicked out. The blow connected to Reshi''s face causing him to fall to the floor with a grunt.


    "No one is here to protect you now boy. Now there is no mercy, just me."


    He withdrew a thin metal stick that Reshi hadn''t noticed.


    Then he struck Reshi with it, while he lay on the floor. Still Reshi never made a sound. He was just so tired.


    As Lord Thanason continued beating him with the stick, he could see through the veil of blood, Elara staring down at him from outside the prison cell. She almost looked sad.


    Finally, Reshi closed his eyes, covering his head with his hands as the blows kept raining down.


    As the beating continued, Reshi came to a sort of understanding.


    ''I''m not Arthur, nor Reshi. I''m just me, I''m both of us. I''ve got both experiences I''ll survive this fucking army, and live my own life. Not as Arthur Gravewalker, or Reshi, and I''ll live a happy life.'' He felt the two sides of himself reconciling as a flame of ambition burst forth in his chest.


    ''I''ll live my own life.''


    Arthur kept his eyes closed as Lord Thanason continued his beating, getting his revenge for what happened to his daughter.


    Arthur didn''t know which blow it was that made him go unconscious. But before he knew it, he was in his old sitting room. His brother was here, but instead of the rest of his family being there, it was Sun. The deity who had sent him here in the first place.


    ''That fucking bastard'', he cursed inwardly. ''Taking me out of a shit life only to put me in another one.''


    He could see, Joseph, his twin, talking with Sun.


    "What is it Joseph?" Sun asked.


    Joseph smiled, his dark eyes twinkling with a wisdom beyond his age. "My brother is going to come through here. Knowing him, it''ll be sooner rather than later. Can you do me a favour? Tell him that I don''t want to see him anytime soon. Tell him we''ll meet one day anyway, but it best not be any day soon."


    Sun smiled, and shockingly the deity bowed his head to Joseph. "You are wise, but don''t worry. I don''t intend for him to go to the other side anytime soon."


    Joseph nodded, before walking away, disappearing.


    Then Sun turned towards him, golden eyes fixing on Reshi/Arthur.


    "You heard him Son of Compassion, this is your last life, live it well."


    "Wait, Sun, I got a question", Arthur called.


    Sun smiled at him, "One question then Son of compassion."


    ''Shit, maybe I should''ve said twenty questions.'' After some deliberation, Arthur decided on his question.


    "I read about this world in a novel, does that mean I''m living somewhere fake?"


    Sun smiled wider. "A good question. No. This world is real, and yes you read something similar in a novel. Often deities are the best Author''s, don''t you think? They often publish the story of their worlds in other worlds."


    Arthur smiled back, some small weight had been taken of his shoulders. Judging by what Sun had said it meant that his life as Reshi wasn''t fake. Nor was his life as Arthur.


    "Hold up, does that mean the One Piece is real?" Arthur blurted out.


    Before he heard his response, Arthur woke up in his cell. Looking out the gated window he saw it was sunrise. It meant he was going to be transported soon.

 Chapter 7

    Arthur sat silently, watching the sun rise, savoring the few stolen moments of peace as sunlight filtered through the iron bars of his window.


    The warm rays brushed his bruised and swollen face, giving a brief reprieve from the cold. He was grateful they had placed him in a cell with a window, the view providing the illusion of freedom and peace. If only for a moment.


    Soon, the echo of boots disrupted his solace. A guard approached, not bothering to cuff him as he was dragged outside.


    A large gray van was parked in front of the family manor. It was his transport.


    Arthur knew the Thoracen Empire''s ways, during war the Empire was ruthless, and because of it he was able to take advantage. He hadn''t begged to be sent to the army, for noble reasons of restoring his honour or the like. Before regaining his memories, he''d thought the body he now inhabited was fifteen. He was wrong. Arthur Gravewalker was only fourteen, yet to undergo The Trial.


    In two years, the Army would provide a scholarship for young prospects in their midst. They would provide a full scholarship to attend the Royal Magic academy. Arthur had to be one of them. Two years to prove himself, to become known within the army, within that time he needed to become valuable. If he failed, he''d be condemned to a soldier''s grave, weak and forgotten, with no chance to escape his crimes or forge a life of his own. Strength was his only path to freedom, his strength, no one else''s.


    As the guards marched him toward the van, he spotted his family waiting. His father stood tall, expression unreadable, as if Arthur was just another problem to be handled. Yennefer Gravewalker, his mother, stood beside him. She was beautiful, with white hair and ocean-blue eyes, but today they carried a sadness that stabbed deeper than any whip or fist. Her disappointment burned more than any beating Thanason could give.


    Arthur''s gaze then fell on his little sister, Elsie, perched on her mother''s shoulders. Her round, cherubic face and wide red eyes mirrored his own. She adored the old Arthur. She deserved better than the brother he had been.


    "I''ll come back, Elsie," he vowed silently. "I''ll be better. I promise."


    Regret weighed heavy in his soul. Reshi''s regrets. Arthur''s regrets. More than a lifetime of mistakes, but this time, things would be different.


    The van''s doors slammed shut behind him, muffling the wind''s icy sting. Across from him sat a soldier, dagger in hand, his dark eyes glinting with barely concealed contempt.


    Duke Reynolds Gravewalker watched the van roll away, his youngest son inside. His shoulders were square, his stance unyielding, as befitted a Duke. No weakness showed on his face, not even as he saw the bruises marring Arthur''s features. Arthur had brought this upon himself, and now he had to pay.


    Beside him, Yennefer''s hand clenched his arm in a grip that betrayed her anguish. She said nothing, her composure as practiced as his.


    "Who was that?" Elsie asked, her small voice breaking the suffocating silence.


    The Duke glanced down at her. "It was Arthur. Your brother."


    "Really?" She tilted her head, red eyes filled with curiosity. "Where''s he going? Is he coming back?"


    Reynolds lifted his daughter, holding her close. "Your brother made a mistake, Elsie. A big one. He''s going to fix it now, but it might take a while. Be a good girl for when he comes back, all right?"


    Tears welled in her eyes as she nodded. "Okay¡­"


    The Duke held her tighter, feeling guilt gnaw at him. He knew the truth. Arthur wouldn''t return. The boy would be dead within the month.


    The war had raged for two years now, a brutal rebellion tearing the Thoracen Empire apart. Criminals like Arthur weren''t sent to prison; they were meatshields, disposable lives used to shield trained soldiers.


    Reynolds kept his face impassive as the van disappeared from view. His son was gone.


    The van trundled into Oatharl, a bustling city that was right next to the manor. They quickly arrived at the teleportation gate, rolling into it after a brief check of the drivers credentials. As the van passed through the gate, a chilling sensation washed over Arthur, like being submerged in ice. When they emerged, the warmth of Oatharl was gone, replaced by the cold city of the frontlines.


    Due to the advancement in magic, construction could now be performed at a speed unheard off. It was common for cities to be made at the frontline base in order to provide adequate shelter and a base of operations. After the war would finish, the cities would either turn into Ghost towns, or develop into a fully-fledged military base.Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.


    A young soldier awaited him, blonde hair gleaming in the faint sunlight. He couldn''t have been older than twenty.


    "Arthur?" the soldier asked, his tone strained with disgust,


    "Yes, sir," Arthur responded, saluting without thinking as Reshi''s military instincts took over.


    The soldier smirked before driving his fist into Arthur''s gut, dropping him to his knees. A boot followed, pressing against his head.


    "You''re no soldier, noble brat," the soldier sneered. "You''re scum. Try acting above your station, and I''ll make sure you regret it."


    Arthur forced his rage into a cold corner of his mind. "Yes, sir," he replied, voice even.


    ''If I get free; he thought with cold rage, ''I''m going to kill you.''


    The soldier yanked him up by his hair. "Follow me Lordling. Let''s see how far the gods have abandoned you."


    The base bustled with activity, soldiers and officers moving with purpose. Arthur and a handful of other criminals were herded into a building where a grim-faced officer waited.


    "Attention!" the officer barked. "You''re all here because you failed your country. Criminals. That''s what you are. I''m under no illusions on the content of your character nor your feelings of being in this army. But the gods have granted you a second chance. Serve well, and you will redeem yourselves. Or at least die trying."


    Arthur almost laughed at the speech. He had heard it all before in his previous life. A bunch of lies to convince the young to die more vigorously for the old, for reasons they never knew. He''d fallen for it once. Never again.


    "As a mandatory test, I will now test for your mana talent. Don''t worry, I doubt anyone here would have sufficient levels."


    One by one, the others were tested, placing their hands into a machine that determined their potential. A green light meant you''d be transferred to a magical unit. Red meant cannon fodder.


    The Officer paused at one boy further down the line. He was one of the younger ones and was around a year or two older than himself. He was tall for his age, easily a head higher than anyone else in the building. With long brown hair that fell to his shoulders and dull green eyes. When he was tested, unlike the Officer, Arthur wasn''t surprised to see it beep green. The first one to have sufficient mana talent.


    "Hohoh", the Officer chuckled, sizing up Noah appreciatively.


    "Stand behind me lad, you''ll be going somewhere else."


    The boy obeyed the command like a robot, his eyes betraying no signs of life or fire. Just a dull understanding. Arthur knew this boy. It was Noah Seaborn. Well at this stage in time he was just known as Noah. He was one of the boys who had been admitted into the Royal Academy under the army scholarship.


    ''Shit, I hope we''re not in the same unit.'' Noah was a powerful prodigy, and at his heart, a good person. Yet his character was stained by a deep hatred of nobility. It was never mentioned why in the novel, but Arthur knew just how much this person was willing to do against a noble. A noble like him.


    When Arthur''s turn came it had surprised him to see the machine beep green. From what he knew of the old Arthur''s life that had been briefly mentioned in the novel, he was a person who had died soon after being branded a criminal and left on the streets. That must''ve meant that Arthur had possessed a low talent in mana. After all, anyone with a sufficient talent of mana could definitely gain a comfortable living. No matter their past.


    The officer sneered. "Blood will tell, eh? Once a noble, always a noble. Get in line."


    Arthur really didn''t want to, but he silently left the line to stand next to Noah, trying to avoid the burning glare at his side.


    ''Fucking great, my first potential friend my try to knife me when I sleep. Just perfect.''


    Arthur had been the last one who was tested. Soon another soldier came in, leading the rest of the criminals away.


    After the criminals had left Officer Skelter turned to the two remaining, his eyes fixed on the white haired noble. The noble was wearing rags that must''ve once been a quite expensive suit, his pristine face now an amalgamation of bruises and swellings, courtesy of General Thanason.


    SighIng inwardly, he stepped towards the noble. He had no love for the nobility to be sure, but it didn''t mean that he enjoyed what his superiors had ordered him to do against the Disgraced Gravewalker. Make his life hell they said. Beat him everyday. It went against everything Skelter believed in, but then again, orders were orders. And he must obey.


    "You, stand aside. I need to have a talk with the Lordling here," he commanded, pointing at the taller boy.


    Noah quietly moved to the side, his eyes burning with a silent glee. Taking a deep breath, Skelter consoled himself that the boy had attempted to rape someone. So he surely wasn''t do anything wrong here. Surely he deserved what was coming for him.


    Without preamble, the officer unleashed his fists, every blow calculated to hurt but not kill. He felt bones break under his boot as he repeatedly kicked and stomped on Reshi''s body, which had long since collapsed to the floor.


    Arthur took it silently, his face blank, his mind retreating to memories of Reshi''s suffering. Pain was nothing new.


    When the officer finally left, Arthur lay on the cold floor, blood pooling beneath him, his breath coming in short wheezes. Before leaving the Officers placed a collar around his neck. Then he exited the building with Noah, leaving Arthur on the floor, beaten near to death.


    ''I''m sorry boy, but I gotta do what needs to be done.''


    Skelter consoled himself with the thought as he escorted the taller criminal to his Unit. Before the tall boy entered the building of Unit 7, Skelter placed a collar around his neck, giving the control to the red-haired lady that he knew was in charge.


    "Here Mara, this remote can disable or kill him. The button there will send enough electricity to leave him on the floor begging for mercy. The kill switch has to be voice activated. You can set it to your voice."


    Mara, the Officer in charge of the unit sighed heavily, her dark eyes regarding the remote with disgust. "Must we really use this James?"


    Skelter smiled sadly, "Those above say we do. And I listen to those above."


    Before Skelter left he handed her a second remote, "Here, this is for the other one."


    Mara raised an eyebrow, "Where is he?"


    "Well, it''s the noble boy. You know, the one who tried to, you know, with General Thanason''s daughter."


    "I asked where he is, James."


    "Well, I had orders Mara" he replied hesitantly, trying to avoid her sharp gaze. "You should probably call a healer to Building two, he isn''t in good shape."


    Mara laughed, it wasn''t a humorous laugh, but cold and sarcastic. "Forever the Dog of the army aren''t you, Skelter."


    "And forever pretending to be the saint in the army Mara. Don''t you hate the nobles as well? You should be on my side about this."


    Mara smiled. "Oh yes I do. But I''m my own woman Skelter." Before he could reply, she overrode him. "I''ll get a healer to collect him, you can go now." Sighing heavily, Skelter left without a second word, his expression conflicted.


    Meanwhile Arthur was laying on the floor. Wheezing and coughing blood. Multiple bones had been broken, and he was sure that there was some internal bleeding as well. After being battered, the Officer had placed a collar around him, and left him here.


    ''Am I going to die?''


    The thought drifted unbidden through his mind as darkness encroached. He had died once before, betrayed by the boy he had saved. Now again, death felt closer than ever. His one familiar feeling.


    ''Am I going to die?''


    Arthur failed to fight against the darkness that overcame his vision, but right before the blackness took him, he could hear the sound of running feet.


    ''Help me,'' he begged inwardly in the moments before he was swept away by the darkness, tumbling through dreams and half-forgotten memories.

 A long night

    Arthur awoke to a world of pain. His body ached in places he hadn''t known existed, each throb sending waves of weakness through him. Groaning, he forced himself upright and opened his eyes. To his surprise, he wasn''t sprawled on the ground anymore, he was lying on a bed in what appeared to be a hospital ward.


    Noticing his movements, a male healer approached. The man was old, his brown hair streaked with grey, and his face lined with deep wrinkles.


    "So, you''re awake," the man remarked, his voice devoid of empathy or animosity. It carried an unsettling lack of any emotion, hostile or otherwise.


    Arthur tried to speak, but the only sound that emerged was a hoarse groan. "Aaagh."


    The healer''s lips curled into a smile that never reached his eyes. Somehow, it made his expression even more disconcerting. "We''ve healed you, but per Officer Mara''s orders, we had to use your strength to do it. Unfortunately, you didn''t have much strength to spare, so your recovery will take about a week."


    Arthur sighed at the mention of Officer Mara. That must be the one in charge of his unit, no doubt another brute like the officer who had beaten him half to death.


    ''You asked for this, Arthur. Suck it up.''


    Pushing those dark thoughts away, Arthur focused on the healer again. "S-so, what happens now?"


    "Now that you''re awake, you''ll report to your unit. I''ll have an assistant show you the way."


    Arthur bit back a groan. Of course, expecting to rest would''ve been too much in this damn place. Gritting his teeth through the pain, he swung his legs off the bed and forced himself to stand. His leg throbbed painfully, and he quickly realized it had been broken during the beating, reducing him to a pathetic limp.


    A young boy appeared beside him, dark-haired and bright-eyed, his kind expression almost startling in contrast to his surroundings. He offered Arthur a hand.


    Arthur took it gratefully, managing a weak smile in thanks.


    ''Funny, calling him a boy. We''re probably the same age.''


    The boy, whose name was Marsh, guided Arthur through the barracks. The journey was slow, Arthur''s injuries making every step an ordeal. Eventually, they arrived at a squat, grey building that looked as though it had been carved from stone. Marsh gave Arthur a friendly wave and disappeared, leaving him alone with his nerves.


    Steeling himself for the worst, Arthur limped inside.


    At the front of the reception room stood a woman with long red hair, a slim but powerful physique, and sharp, assessing eyes.


    "Arthur?" she asked.


    "Yes, ma''am," he replied, straightening as best he could.


    "Good. Follow me."


    She led him into a smaller room with four bunks, three of which were already occupied. The men occupying them turned to stare at Arthur as he entered. Their expressions ranged from cold indifference to open hostility. Among them, one pair of eyes stood out, livid green and burning with hatred.


    ''Noah'' he thought bitterly. ''Just my luck.''


    The woman nodded curtly. "Unit 7, this is Arthur. He''s the second criminal joining the unit. Arthur, you''ll bunk with Noah over there."


    Arthur didn''t bother to argue. Resigned, he limped over to the far end of the room, where Noah sat on the top bunk, glaring down at him. Avoiding the older boy''s gaze, Arthur collapsed onto the lower bunk, his body screaming in protest.


    "Training begins tomorrow at 0600," the woman continued. "But in light of the two new recruits, you''ve all been granted a day off."


    The squad erupted into cheers. Arthur, meanwhile, sighed in relief and laid down, exhaustion dragging him under almost immediately.


    Noah sat on his bunk, staring contemptuously at the pale-haired noble sleeping below. Arthur, that was his name. From the moment the boy had limped in, Noah had felt a simmering rage rise in his chest. He remembered the sight of Arthur being beaten by the officer. A noble punished, just like they deserved. Whatever Arthur had done to end up here, it had to have been bad that even those wealthy scum had decided to cut him off. To Noah, every bruise on Arthur''s body was justice for all the suffering nobles had inflicted on people like him. If he had one regret, it was that he wasn''t the person responsible for those bruises.Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.


    The day passed, with Noah''s anger compounding each minute Arther remained asleep. Immediately after the Officer had given them a free day, he had fallen asleep, and hadn''t stirred since. He was itching for the noble to wake up, waiting for any excuse to start a fight. Late in the night, Noah''s patience finally snapped. While Arthur slept, a small smile crept up on his face. The smile drove Noah insane, it taunted him, driving him further into anger. Silently, he climbed down from his bunk, his fists clenched.


    Arthur''s dream was a peaceful one. He sat in his family''s living room, watching his father read the newspaper, his mother and Mary chatting animatedly at the table. Joseph, his twin and Persi, his younger sister, played nearby. Arthur smiled softly, content to observe even if he couldn''t join them. Dreams like this were his only solace, even before his transmigration, and he was grateful for having them.


    Then the first punch landed, shattering the dream.


    Arthur''s eyes snapped open just as another fist connected with his side. Pain exploded through his body, and he curled up instinctively as more blows rained down on him. Blood dripped into his eyes from a reopened cut, blurring his vision.


    Through the haze, Arthur made out Noah''s silhouette. The older boy''s fists were relentless, each strike aimed at Arthur''s bandaged wounds.


    ''How many times?'' Arthur thought bitterly, shielding his head with his arms. ''How many fucking times will I get beaten for existing? I''m so tired man. So fucking tired.''


    Noah''s fist broke through his guard, slamming into his face.


    Then something inside Arthur snapped. As if a dam had been broken allowing a flood of rage to course through his body.


    Roaring, he threw a punch that caught Noah off guard. Summoning his training as Reshi, Arthur shoved the older boy off and scrambled to his feet. Adrenaline coursed through his veins, dulling the pain.


    Noah lunged again, swinging wildly. Arthur ducked under the blow and countered with a solid punch to Noah''s stomach. The older boy doubled over, but Arthur was relentless. Pivoting to the side he continued pummeling. Blow after blow, he struck Noah, his screams blending with his tears.


    "WHY THE FUCK COULDN''T YOU LEAVE ME ALONE?!" Arthur bellowed, punctuating each word with a punch. "I DIDN''T DO ANYTHING TO YOU!"


    Noah stopped resisting, slumping to the floor, his face a mass of blood and missing teeth. But Arthur wasn''t finished, all his suppressed rage and exhaustion surged forward, and he kicked and stomped until his legs burned.


    When Arthur finally stepped back, gasping for breath, he realized the rest of the squad had gathered. Their expressions were ashamed, their gazes averted. They had seen Noah attack him, and had done nothing.


    Arthur''s lip curled in disdain. Turning back to Noah, he felt a profound joy to see him wheezing on the floor, Arthur had planned to try and befriend Noah when first saw him. To get close with the boy, and also help him overcome his hatred of nobles.


    ''But fuck that.''


    Moments later, Officer Mara burst in. She quickly assessed the scene and was able to gather what most likely had happened. Nevertheless it surprised her to see Arthur, whom she had previously regarded as weak, kicking and stomping on Noah. The other Cadet had a marked hatred of nobles, as was mentioned on his file, so she had expected conflict. She hadn''t expected for Arthur to be winning that conflict.


    The noble boy no longer looked weak, nor did he look like a noble. His white hair was sticking out wildly, his red eyes full of emotion. But instead of anger, Arthur''s eyes were full of fear as he kicked at Noah with all his might, ignoring the bruises and countless cuts that were pouring down his face.


    ''How fucking scary'' Mara muttered as she quickly got closer. Pulling out her remote, she pressed the button. The effect was immediate. Arthur stopped moving suddenly, becoming still as electricity coursed through his body from the collar. Then he fell onto the floor, shuddering. When she released the button, the fallen noble was already unconscious.


    Eyes livid, Officer Mara turned to Felt, one of her squad members.


    "You best fucking explain, now."


    Arthur woke to the familiar scene of a hospital bed. He braced for the familiar wave of pain, ready for his body to be full of aches and cuts.


    But there was nothing.


    No pain, nor ache. Only a slight exhaustion. Getting up, Arthur found the same male healer looming over his bed.


    Before Arthur hadn''t noticed how tired the man looked. His dark eyes were sunken, his skin pale as if he had been up for nights in a row.


    "Ahh, you''re awake. Good. Get out, someone else needs this bed now."


    Stunned, Arthur wordlessly got up from his tent. Because of the fight with Noah he had expected to wake up in a cell or something. Or at least handcuffed to his bed.


    ''Then again, with this collar, I guess they don''t need to.''


    With a bitter expression he remembered how the collar had sent volts of electricity coursing through him.


    Arthur left the Infirmary wing, his body feeling much better, albeit tired. He made his way to the Unit 7 building, where he saw Officer Mara, standing at the front.


    "Come here Arthur. I guess we need to talk."


    Wordlessly, Arthur obeyed, following Officer Mara to her office. Inside the office was a large table piled with different important looking papers. She sat down on the chair and fired up her laptop. Seeing as though there were no other chairs, Arthur stood there awkwardly.


    After a moment she turned back to him.


    "Okay then Arthur. Why don''t you tell me what happened,"


    Arthur was silent for a moment. A part of him wanted to spill everything. Wanted to rant about Noah and the other members who had stood by and let it happen. But another part of him urged him to keep silent. He had taken his revenge on Noah himself, and the others. Well, fuck them. It felt wrong to try and get them into more trouble.


    Sighing Arthur finally spoke up. "Nothing happened, Officer."


    Officer Mara raised an eyebrow. "Oh, so are you telling me I didn''t see you kicking Cadet Noah on the floor."


    "No Miss. What you saw was a misunderstanding. I fell on top of him."


    "You fell. From the bottom bunk, on top of him?"


    "Yes Miss."


    There was no point in trying to make a convincing lie. No doubt Officer Mara could already guess what happened. But if he didn''t take it further, there was not much she could do.


    Officer Mara nodded, trying to hide a small smile. "Very well Cadet Arthur. You''re dismissed. Try not to fall on anyone again."


    Arthur nodded, "Yess Miss, I won''t", before turning around and leaving.


    Officer Mara smiled freely as soon as Arthur had left. It was funny, but despite being a noble, she couldn''t help but feel like she was conversing with a true soldier when she spoke to Arthur. He had acted differently than what she had expected.


    Felt had already told her everything that happened, and as an Officer it was her job to speak to both of the parties involved. But both Arthur and Noah had said nothing had happened, each of them stubbornly protecting the other for no clear reason.


    "How funny, it seems they''re more alike then they realise."

 Chapter 9 - The calm before the storm

    Arthur woke early the next morning, his body refreshed, his mind clearer than it had been in days. The soft silver moonlight filtered through the barracks window, painting pale patterns on the wall, as if the heavens had claimed it as their canvas. The world was still, caught in that fleeting moment before dawn. It was the final moment of peaceful tranquility, as if the world was waiting on held breath for sunrise. For the first time since being thrust into this reality, he felt almost... at peace.


    The air was crisp, carrying the earthy scent of dew, and for a moment, Arthur let himself enjoy it. In fact, he cherished them more now, since losing everything. In less than a day he had died, been brought back to life in another world, suffered an identity crisis, got battered repeatedly and lost everything in his new life before being sent to the army. Going through those experiences had a way of changing a person. For Arthur, apart from the bitterness, rage and misery, it had made him appreciative.


    Training began under the moon''s farewell, as they worked with the rising sun until daylight had fully replaced the night.


    He would be lying if he said he hadn''t expected some sort of hidden gift or cheat since he transmigrated to the world of Pandora. But with each grueling day, his hope dimmed. Sun had promised something, he''d given him something called a concept. Whatever it was however, he had yet to see any sight of it.


    ''Maybe it was some kind of joke'', he lampooned inwardly as he fought through a gruelling session of training.


    Training began the same way it always did: grueling physical drills that demanded strength his body had yet to develop. Though Arthur pushed himself harder with each passing day, the improvements were slow and painful. He wasn''t blind to the differences between himself and the others, he was barely keeping up. By the time he finished his endurance run, the others were already halfway through their weapons training.


    And that, as usual, was where things truly went downhill.


    The sword felt clumsy and foreign in his grip, like having someone else''s hands stitched onto your wrists. The sharp weight of Officer Mara''s gaze bore down on him as she barked corrections, her voice steady but tinged with disappointment. Glancing to his side, Arthur saw Noah, moving in a humiliating contrast to his own pathetic skills. Noah moved like water, his strikes fluid and precise, as though the sword had been born in his hands. Since their fight, if Noah had any lingering anger from losing to Arthur, he didn''t show it.. In fact, Noah didn''t acknowledge Arthur at all, as though he were little more than a ghost standing beside him.


    ''Well that doesn''t matter now anyway'' he thought with a tinge of regret as he glanced at Noah through the corner of his eyes. ''That ship has long sailed. If only the prick had tried talking to me first, maybe things could''ve been different.''


    Arthur found it hard to bury his resentment towards Noah, but at the same time he understood the boy. It was an uncomfortable position to be in. He knew to some extent the reason behind Noah''s actions, and also knew that at his heart Noah was a good person who didn''t deserve to be here, training in the army with a collar around his neck. Yet, Noah had tried to beat him, sneaking up on him while he slept. For fuck''s sake, Noah had smiled as Officer Skelter beat him almost to death.


    His thoughts drifted, as he contemplated his conundrum, Arthur welcomed any distraction that prevented him from focusing on his aching arms and the droplets that stung his eyes. Arthur hadn''t come here to win anyone over, it was just sad that he had lost that opportunity to do so. He didn''t care about the rest of the squad. Whether they hated him or just wanted to avoid him, Arthur couldn''t care less.


    They had watched as he got battered, they allowed it to happen. Arthur had spent too long allowing him to get punished for the sins of the old Arthur''s past. He had shouldered the weight of those sins as he took over Arthur''s body. But not anymore. He wouldn''t endure those beatings in silence anymore.


    If they fucked around now, well, they could very well find out. If they came, he''d fight back. Maybe not with a sword, but in whatever way he could manage.


    As usual, he alone was dismissed after weapons training. Unlike the rest of them, he hadn''t undergone his trial yet, so it was impossible for him to actively manipulate mana, meaning these sessions were a waste of time for him. Officer Mara dismissed him with a curt nod before turning away to the rest of the squad.


    Saluting, Arthur left the training grounds. However he had no intention of resting. He had once been Reshi, a talented and strong soldier, albeit quite rusty during the end of his life. However he remembered everything he''d done to become strong. Every drill, exercise and quite literal torture that had propelled him to be considered a monster in the Central Republic''s forces.


    He left to go to another training ground. This one was abandoned, well, more like uninhabited. It hadn''t been maintained since there was no squad posted at the nearby building, nevertheless it served his needs well enough. Calisthenics. That was what his personal training would be focused on. For his upper body he went through a series of circuits consisting of multiple variations of push-ups, pull-ups, and a variety of other exercises. Afterwards, he started on his sprints, pushing himself to his limits until his muscles screamed in protest. And then pushing himself further.


    Finishing off with stretching he finally finished his routine with deliberate precision.It was an exhausting cycle, but it gave him a sense of control. Every day was a chance to reclaim his strength, his dignity. After he finished, he went and visited the infirmary wing where he would regularly meet with the male healer.


    He had begun to appreciate the healer''s disconcerting, emotionless professionalism, after all, it was definitely better then how everyone else treated him.


    "Hello sir, can you heal me again."


    The healer looked at him before sighing in a rare show of emotion. "It''ll be from your own energy again."


    "That''s fine."


    Stretching out his hand, the healer placed it on Arthur''s head. Then he felt a faint warmth rush through his body as his muscles were healed from the day''s exercise. The process drained his energy, leaving him weary, but it was nothing a good rest wouldn''t fix. This way, he was able to fully exert himself everyday.


    There was another reason why he visited the infirmary wing. Arthur wasn''t an introverted person by nature, and the solitude weighed heavily on him. He trained alone, lived alone, and healed alone. But there was one place he could escape the gnawing ache of isolation, the infirmary, where Marsh, the young boy who had guided him back the first time he woke up, was always waiting with an earnest smile.


    "Hey, Marsh," Arthur said as he saw the boy further down.


    When Marsh saw who it was, his face split into a wide smile, running over excitedly.


    "Hey Art. Wanna go on a walk?"


    "Sure", he responded, failing to hold back his smile.


    " Hey Marsh, I never asked, but what do you want to be when you''re older?" He asked as they strolled across base, attracting not a few disgusted mutters. All directed at him of course.


    Marsh, small and bright-eyed, tilted his head, his mop of unruly hair catching the light. "I want to be a soldier, Art." Marsh''s voice was unusually firm as he responded, his face fixed in a grim expression.


    Arthur raised an eyebrow. "What, you wanna run around with a sword in the air, especially with that smile. I doubt you even need a sword for the enemy to drop dead" he teased lightly.


    Marsh shook his head emphatically, his grimness shattering into a grin. "Oh shut up Art. I wanna save people."


    "Can''t you do that as a healer?"


    Marsh hesitated, but shook his head after a second of consideration. "No. Well yeah. I want to learn how to heal as well, but I want to fight on the frontlines too. Just being a healer isn''t enough. It isn''t enough," he finished in a hoarse whisper.


    Again Arthur realised that being a boy on the frontlines wasn''t common. No doubt Marsh had his demons as well. He pushed down his curiosity, it wasn''t his business. If Marsh wanted to confide, he could do so in his own time.


    "Oh, so like a frontline medic?" He continued, wanting to keep Marsh''s thoughts occupied on the conversation and not on whatever he was thinking about.


    "What''s that?"


    Arthur paused. ''Huh, does this world not have frontline medics?''


    Back on Earth, that was exactly what Reshi had been, a soldier who fought and healed in equal measure. It surprised him that a modern civilisation like this didn''t have the same here. Sure a lot of ancient traditions had revived since humans had settled on Pandora, but well, it was a basic army unit. A frontline medic.


    "Well," Arthur began hesitantly, "it''s like a healer, but they''re out there with the soldiers during battles instead of staying back at base. They fight alongside everyone else but can also heal injuries on the field."


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    Marsh''s eyes widened in awe. "Ohhh, you mean a saint!"


    "A...saint?" Arthur asked, thrown off by the term.


    Marsh laughed at his confusion. "You''re serious, aren''t you? A saint''s like a legend. Someone blessed by two gods. But one of them has to be Asclepius, the god of healing. Without his blessing, it''s impossible to be a true saint. Do you know how hard it is to get a blessing from Asclepius? I doubt I''d become a Saint"


    Arthur blinked, intrigued. He''d heard of saints in the novel but had assumed they were a standard paladin archetype. This was something far more complex.


    "Why does Asclepius matter so much?"


    Marsh explained with a mix of excitement and reverence. "Healing takes energy¡ªeither the patient''s or the healer''s. But if a soldier''s gravely injured, they usually don''t have enough energy to give, which means the healer has to use their own. Do you see the problem now?"


    "Not especially."


    Marsh laughed again. "Think about it. If you''re a fighter, you''re already expending so much mana and energy. It''s impossible to do both, you''ll lose too much energy and mana before the battle even starts. So usually it''s better to have a person just suited for one. If you''re not a saint that is. You see, Asclepius''s blessing changes that. It lets you draw energy from other sources, sometimes even from enemies. Like the Dark Saint."


    "The Dark Saint?" Arthur''s curiosity deepened. He had never heard of him before, he wasn''t mentioned in the novel. "Who is he?"


    Marsh''s voice grew quieter. "She was the last saint. Her blessing let her draw life force from others to heal her allies. There''s a story about her entering a battlefield where Thoracen soldiers were losing against the dwarves during the war a hundred years ago. She wiped out half the dwarven army by draining their life force and using it to bring her side back from the brink of death."


    Arthur shivered. The idea of one person wielding such power was staggering. "What happened to her?"


    "She disappeared fifty years ago," Marsh said softly. "Well she''s believed to be dead. If she were still around, the rebellion wouldn''t have lasted this long."


    Arthur considered the boy beside him, his enthusiasm tempered by the weight of the story he''d just told. Marsh''s innocence and determination reminded him of a younger version of himself, a time before the world had stripped him of his naivety.


    "Well," Arthur said, offering Marsh a rare, genuine smile, "if anyone could become a saint, it''s you."


    The boy beamed, his grin wide and unrestrained. "Thanks, Arthur!"


    Leaving the infirmary, Arthur carried Marsh''s grin with him like a small, fragile ember of warmth. It was rare, these days, to feel something lighter than the weight of survival.


    The routine of the day melded into weeks, marked by exhaustion and solitude. Arthur''s muscles burned with every calisthenic, every sprint, every stretch, but the pain grounded him. It was something familiar, something he could control. He trained harder than ever, building himself piece by piece, forcing his body to obey. It was slow, painstaking work, but it was his. Each night he left the healer''s wing drained but proud, his body recovering under the healer''s steady hands and his own reserves of energy.


    Evenings brought rare moments of respite, like his conversations with Marsh, the young boy''s earnestness was a balm against the day''s trials.


    ''It''s sad, we''re almost the same age. Marsh was less than six months younger, but I see him as a boy.'' Perhaps it was his innocent earnestness, or that smile that didn''t belong on a war ground. Or maybe it was his own experiences, as Reshi and Arthur, propelling him to mature and lose what Marsh held in abundance.


    Arthur loved his talks with Marsh, they kept him sane. But the solitude that followed was unavoidable. Arthur had become an island, isolated from the rest of the squad. Their disdain was palpable, their whispers a constant reminder of his place. Criminal. Noble. Two labels that made him a perfect target.


    As he walked back to base, finishing a supplementary sword training session, Officer Mara approached him.


    "Cadet", she called.


    "Yes Ma''am?"


    Sighing Officer Mara met Arthur''s deep scarlet eyes. She didn''t like seeing Arthur, it left her conflicted. On one hand he was someone who had attempted to do something despicable. On the other, he was barely fourteen, a boy. When she looked into his eyes, she saw an unsettling maturity and melancholy. It made her feel ashamed somehow. Why, she had no idea.


    "I''ve sent a request officially. You will be ceasing sword training. It is evident to me you possess little talent for it. I''ve transferred your weapon training to Officer Skelter, he teaches spear techniques to the duns. Go report yourself to him at once."


    >>>>>>>>>>¡ª¡ª¡ª Dun means people with insufficient mana talents to be considered into the mana squad units ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<


    Arthur felt the blow keenly, though he hid it well. The recommendation stung, but he couldn''t deny the truth in her words. The sword was not his weapon, not yet. Still, the thought of facing Skelter, the man who had beaten him within an inch of his life made his stomach churn. He also knew that Officer Mara was aware of that fact. But then again, why would she care? He could see it in her eyes, like everyone else''s. Hatred, or disgust. It was hard to tell, both emotions had a similar look in one''s eyes. But it was definitely there.


    ''I''m an idiot for thinking she at least would be fair.''


    Saluting stiffly, he turned away from her wordlessly.


    Officer Mara watched him with a tinge of regret. She had no connection with the boy. Not with either of the criminals. But, for some reason it still felt like betrayal. Both of them knew what Skelter had done, and both of them knew he''d do it again. Yet Arthur needed to learn how to use a weapon properly, otherwise he would be dead far before the Army''s Dog, James Skelter killed him.


    Shaking her head at the retreating figure, she chuckled softly. ''Here I thought I hated nobles, and hated rapists more. Am I taking pity on one?''


    But another voice whispered back in her mind, a part of her she tried to bury. ''Attempted only, and many nobles have done far worse without punishment. And there''s one thing even you can''t deny. He''s only a boy.''


    ///////////////////


    It took a while to find Office Skelter''s building. Namely because no one wanted to talk to him, besides telling him to fuck off.


    As he walked he noticed a definite change in the air.


    It began as a whisper of unease, a faint crackle on the edge of perception. By the time Arthur reached the South Wing where Officer Skelter was based, the tension was suffocating, the hum of an impending storm pressing against his ears.


    All around, soldiers began running around, their faces fixed on a grim expression. Everyone ignored him, rushing past with an urgency that gave off a distinct feel of wrongness.


    "What the hell is going on?"


    No one answered him, not even bothering a second glance his way.


    He saw Officer Skelter and his unit, fully armed, their military armoured body suits shimmering under the harsh lights of the base. Skelter''s eyes locked onto him, blazing with fury.


    "Cadet!" The barked word cut through the chaos like a whip. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?"


    Arthur faltered. "Officer Mara sent me to¡ª"


    "YOU IDIOT!" Skelter''s roar was deafening, his words laced with contempt. But what he said next froze Arthur in place, his blood running cold.


    "YOU''RE BEING MOBILISED. THE ENTIRE BASE IS. GET BACK TO YOUR SQUAD IMMEDIATELY!"


    Arthur blinked, his mind struggling to catch up. Mobilised? His heart pounded, each beat reverberating in his chest like a war drum.


    "THE ENEMY IS COMING AND WE WILL MEET THEM. GO. NOW!!!!"


    The words crashed over him, shattering the fragile calm of his routine into jagged pieces. All around him, the base was alive with motion, soldiers shouting orders, weapons being distributed, boots pounding against the ground. The distant wail of a siren rose, a keening sound that split the air and filled his lungs with dread.


    Arthur stood frozen for a moment, his hand tightening around the note in his grasp. Then, with a sharp breath, he turned and ran, his feet pounding against the ground as panic clawed at the edges of his mind.


    The wail of the siren cut through the air like a scream, drowning out the pounding of Arthur''s boots as he raced back to his squad. The scent of metal and sweat filled his nostrils, mingling with the rising heat of bodies moving in frantic preparation. It was a pungent smell, one which had been familiar to him, in another life.


    It was the smell of anticipation, and not a little amount of fear also.


    The war was here. He''d trained for weeks, endured beatings, isolation, and grueling drills. But none of it had prepared him for this. Not really. His hands trembled, his breath quickened.


    This was no training. No sparring match. No second chances.


    The war was here.


    And he was not ready.

 Chapter 10 - The first day of battle

    Heart pounding like a war drum, Arthur sprinted toward the Unit 7 base. Images of his past life as Reshi bombarded his mind, splintered memories of battlefield carnage, the stench of rotting corpses, and the endless gurgling screams of dying men. But then a new image started replacing them. His memories of Arthur, the hours of ceaseless training until he collapsed from exhaustion. His pathetic attempts to wield a sword. The beatings, hatred and enmity he''d learned to live with from everyone else. They all gathered within his chest, igniting it with a spiteful flame of ambition.


    When he arrived at the Unit 7 building, the soldiers were already assembled. Their standard-issue swords gleamed in the fading sunlight, and tension crackled in the air like static.


    Officer Mara''s voice tore through the gathering dread like a whip crack. "GET ARMED NOW, CADET!"


    Arthur didn''t hesitate. He bolted inside, adrenaline surging, his body moving faster than his thoughts. The armor station loomed ahead, and he dove into the routine with practiced precision. First came the tight black nanotech bodysuit, designed to absorb and dissipate impacts. It clung to his skin like a second layer of flesh, hugging tightly. Then came the armor. Aresium plates¡ªlight but unyielding, forged from an ore only found in Pandora. One by one he clicked them into place as he suited up. The final piece was the helmet, sealing him entirely. Despite the armour''s focus on lightness and mobility, it still felt clunky and alien to him.


    ''Why the hell don''t we train with this already on? Seems like an obvious oversight,'' Arthur thought bitterly as he grabbed his sword, leaving the scabbard behind. He had no illusions about needing it again once the battle began.


    Making his way outside, he joined the line of soldiers, slotting in next to Noah. Even through Noah''s helmet, Arthur could see the barely restrained panic. The slight tremor in his hands, the way his breathing came in shallow bursts. This was Noah''s first battle. Unlike Arthur, whose memories of Reshi had hardened him slightly to fighting, Noah had never seen war, only trained for it. And training could never be a replacement for the real thing.


    Officer Mara''s voice rang out over the assembled soldiers, cutting through the chaos. "SOLDIERS!" Her tone was ironclad and reassuring in its strength. "TODAY THE ENEMY LAUNCHES A FULL-SCALE ASSAULT ON OUR BASE. AND TODAY, THEY WILL FAIL. WE WILL SHOW THESE REBELS THE MIGHT OF THE EMPIRE!"


    The rest of the unit roared their approval, fists raised in defiance. All except Noah and Arthur. The collars around their necks were a constant, suffocating reminder that they weren''t here by choice. They were criminals, punished to die in battle.


    "FOLLOW ME!" Mara shouted, leading them toward the battlefield.


    Outside the city walls, Arthur was finally able to observe the strength of the Empire''s forces. Fifty thousand soldiers stood arrayed in battle formations, their ranks an ocean of steel and resolve. Among them, only a fraction¡ªbarely a hundred¡ªwere Mageknights like Unit 7. Arthur''s gaze flickered toward those elite warriors, their glowing weapons and auras marking them as something otherworldly. A shiver ran down his spine.


    ''If only I could have awakened my damn trial early.''Arthur shoved the thought aside. Now wasn''t the time for self-reflection. Despite being in a MageKnight unit, Arthur was practically a well-equipped dun soldier for all intents and purposes.


    In the distance, the enemy emerged. A Broiling cloud of dust heralded their approach, and as they drew closer, he could slowly make them out. Rebels. Yet the term in itself was misleading. These weren''t a ragged or desperate force. In fact, the sheer numbers of the ''rebels'' overwhelmed their own, and he could feel a faint an unmistakable thrum of power from their many Mageknights.


    Arthur stood rigid in formation as the march began, his heart hammering in his chest. His sword felt heavier than it should have, its hilt slick in his sweating palm. The row of soldiers in front of him blocked his view of the enemy''s charge, leaving him to imagine the oncoming horde.


    Were they close?


    Were they seconds away?


    Has the fighting already begun?


    He didn''t have to wonder for long.


    The battlefield erupted into chaos as the two armies collided with the fury of two gods. The sound of steel crashing against steel filled the air, mingling with guttural screams and the thunder of thousands of boots on churned earth.


    For a moment there was nothing, then the line ahead broke apart and Arthur''s world exploded into brutal, unrelenting violence.


    An enemy soldier lunged at him, spear thrusting forward in a deadly move. Arthur sidestepped, instincts honed through endless drills taking over. With a sharp motion, he grabbed the shaft of the spear, yanking it backward. The rebel stumbled forward, off balance. Taking advantage, Arthur swung his sword in a brutal downward arc, cleaving through the man''s upper torso. Blood sprayed across his armor, hot and sticky.


    Another soldier charged, thrusting their spear with more desperation than skill. The weapon failed to penetrate Arthur''s armor, but the force of the blow made him grunt in pain. Snarling in a bestial manner he deflected the next strike, stepping in close. His blade pierced the soldier''s gut, causing the man''s guts to spill out in his own hands, as he fell to the floor, screaming.


    Minutes bled into hours.


    Arthur fought like a machine, every movement automatic, every strike calculated for survival.


    He lost track of time as the monotony of killing consumed him. A pattern emerged: slash, block, parry, thrust. Over and over, like the rhythm of a terrible dance. The screams blurred together, the faces of the dying became indistinct. His muscles burned, his arms trembling as exhaustion set in. He wasn''t a good swordsman. In fact he was far from it, relying on his years of combat experience as Reshi to keep him alive.


    The battle continued to drag on relentlessly. More than once, Arthur slipped on corpses and mud, narrowly resulting in his death as his rudimentary skills were constantly tested. Each kill became harder, his sword heavier and his breath more ragged. Yet Arthur kept fighting, kept killing, refusing to allow himself to stop for even a moment.


    It was either that, or die. Such was the brutality of war.


    Arthur''s luck soon ran out as he turned to his next enemy. A MageKnight with two dun soldiers at his side. They advanced on Arthur collectively, their faces split into a malicious grin. The MageKnight was dressed in the same armour as him, except instead of black, the enemy''s was white and red, in the colours of the rebellion''''s flag.


    Arthur found himself forced on the defence, exhaustedly trying to block and parry the onslaught of attack. Yet his enemies were relentless, hammering down on him mercilessly. The two spearmen protected the MageKnight, forcing Arthur to defend each time the MageKnight came in to attack.


    However, for some reason, the Mageknight didn''t use magic. He only fought with a sword, like Arthur. But even that small advantage never mattered. It wasn''t long before Arthur''s defence was crumbling, his armour cracking as cuts formed all over his body. There was just nothing he could do against three people at once.


    Then luck shone through. As one of the soldiers advanced he suddenly stopped in his tracks as a spear pierced him from the back, jutting out of his chest.


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    Taking advantage of the momentary distraction, caused by the soldiers dying screams, Arthur surged forward in a desperate attempt to catch the enemy Mageknight off guard.


    He began striking with as much force and power as he could muster, each blow containing very little skill. The soldier quickly recovered, deflecting another blow to the side. But Arthur was prepared for it. He stepped forward as his sword was deflected. Then he slammed his fist into the opponent''s helmet.


    The blow did nothing to harm the soldier, but it did catch him off guard causing him to stumble back. Arthur surged forward, his teeth gritted. Instead of trying to stab the soldier he tackled him to the ground. It was obvious the enemy was a better swordsman than him.


    But he wasn''t a better warrior.


    Both of their swords clattered away as they rolled in the mud amongst thousands of other soldiers. Arthur''s training as Reshi clicked in, and almost immediately he shifted his weight, getting ontop of the enemy. Then Arthur took off his helmet, raising it high in both hands and bringing it crashing down onto the enemy''s own helmet. Then he did it again, and again, and again, until his enemy''s helmet broke and shattered under the repeating blows.


    But Arthur didn''t stop.


    Screaming, he continued hammering down his helmet, feeling the sickening crunch as the enemy''s skull slowly relented. His enemy''s desperate struggle became weaker, until he was still. Lifeless, his skull smashed into pieces of bone, blood and brain.


    Breathing heavily, Arthur staggered up right. His helmet was a mess, no more than rubbish. Discarding it he searched around for his sword, but amidst the chaos of the war it was nowhere to be seen.


    But he did find the sword of the MageKnight he had just killed. ''It''ll have to do I guess.''


    The battle slowly melded together in his mind, as he fully immersed himself into the fighting once more. His life returned to slash, parry block and dodge. Sometimes he ran, trying to avoid any impossible battles. But he couldn''t continue forever.


    Exhausted Arthur stumbled back.


    ''Need¡­to¡­rest'' he thought doggedly. ''Too¡­tired.''


    "Haaah"


    Around him he could see that they were slowly being pushed back, the enemy taking ground one step at a time.


    To his utter misfortune, another Mageknight appeared amidst the throng of fighting. Unlike the others, this soldier was well-trained, their red-and-white armor shining with power. The knight raised a hand, and the ground beneath Arthur trembled. Rocks and debris shot upward, forming a compact boulder that hovered ominously above the Mageknight''s outstretched palm. Then, with a flick of their wrist, the boulder ignited, flames roaring across its surface.


    ''Fuck me.''


    Arthur turned and ran. He zigzagged, desperate to make himself a harder target. Behind him, the fiery projectile roared like a comet, closing the distance. The explosion threw him through the air, the impact shattering the ground and sending debris flying.


    When Arthur woke, the world was spinning. His head throbbed, his ears rang with a high-pitched whine. He staggered slowly to his feet, vision swimming. The battlefield stretched before him, a ruined landscape of corpses and churned earth. The fighting had lessened, both armies beginning to pull back as night fell.


    The opposing forces Mageknights'' had raised a trench, forcing the battle into a stalemate. By creating the Trench, they had saved themselves the risk of retreating, instead entrenching themselves in a position that was dangerously close to the military base.


    Arthur stumbled toward his own lines, head pounding, legs dragging. If he didn''t reach safety by nightfall, he''d be caught in the crossfire of magic artillery.


    Somehow, he made it back to the Empire''s side. Barely in time.


    He collapsed onto the ground, his chest heaving, his mind swirling with fragmented memories of the slaughter. Blurred memories flashed through his mind.


    The crunch of bone as he had hammered down the helmet.


    The gurgle of dying men.


    The heat of fire and blood.


    Arthur found himself in his old living room. The lights were warm and inviting. There was food on the stove¡ªeggs, meat, toast. But the house was empty.


    Relief washed over him. He didn''t want to see his family. Not like this. Not now. The battle had left him feeling dirty, not in the sense of mud, blood and sweat. No, it was a filth that clung to his soul instead, something that couldn''t disappear with a shower.


    He couldn''t taste the food, probably because this was all a dream. But every mouthful felt warm and relaxing, soothing him. So by the time he had finished eating, he almost felt human again.


    Arthur opened his eyes. It was a purposeful movement as he consciously left the dream. Getting up from the ground he looked around. No one paid any mind to him, instead focusing on their own rest and recovery as night fell.


    "Haaahh. Guess I should make my way back."


    It took him a while, but he found his way back to the unit 7 building. He wasn''t surprised to see that not one member of the unit had died. After all, this was a Mageknight unit, and so they could only really be killed by encountering another MageKnight of a higher rank. And that wasn''t going to be likely.


    Ignoring them all, Arthur made his way to his bunk. Slowly taking off his ruined armor. That blast had damaged it immensely. There were parts missing, cracked


    With a sigh, Arthur took off his armour, changing in front of the crew. He was too tired to find somewhere else to get changed. They all were, no one had energy left for propriety. The battle had damaged it immensely. There were parts fused with the nano bodysuit from the heat of the meteor. Most of his armour was ruined and missing, cuts and cracks almost completely covering it. Ignoring his comrades, he climbed into his bunk, exhaustion dragging him into unconsciousness immediately.


    In the distance, the rumble of artillery shook the ground as the next phase of the war began.


    Noah, watching Arthur through the corner of his eyes, felt a pang of something he didn''t understand. Respect? Pity? Awe? Arthur, battered and bloodied, had stumbled back from hell itself, and gone to sleep.


    Noah hated Arthur. He hated all nobles. Yet he couldn''t help but feel that Arthur commanded a sort of grudging respect. He had a habit of proving everyone wrong, and half the time not even realising that he had. He had magical talent. He worked hard. He never disobeyed, nor fooled around, almost insanely dedicated to training.


    Noah wasn''t the only one to have spotted Arthur on the abandoned training ground, performing extra training doggedly.


    And now, again. He had stumbled in like some sort of demon, hours after the rest of them. His red eyes were tired and worn. His white hair was dirty with mud and sweat. His armour shattered, burned, and was missing in various places. The standard issue sword, nowhere to be seen. Yet he was alive, proving everyone wrong again. Instead of breaking down and collapsing into tears like everyone had expected. He had gone to sleep, uncaring about the artillery that was exploding nearby.


    ''This boy just won''t die,'' Noah thought.


    And then, like Arthur, he closed his eyes, letting sleep take him. Preparing to repeat the same thing tomorrow, all over again.

 Chapter 11 -

    Arthur was shaken awake by one of the squad members.


    "Get up. It''s almost time."


    Groaning, Arthur pushed himself off the lumpy cot, every muscle screaming in protest. Bruises mottled his arms, legs, and torso, their deep purple hues serving as a vivid reminder of how close he''d come to dying. Again.


    My life is a masochist''s dream, he thought bitterly, running a hand through his matted hair.


    "Ahh, for fuck''s sake," he hissed, rubbing his temples as if he could chase away the exhaustion. It didn''t work.


    At the foot of his bunk lay his battered armor, a sad, ruined shell of what it once was. Cracks spiderwebbed across the chest plate, and streaks of rusted blood marred what little of it had remained pristine. He stared at it, shoulders sagging under the weight of its uselessness. The damn thing looked like it would crumble from the wind.


    As he glared at the broken remnants, a voice interrupted his thoughts.


    "Here."


    Arthur turned, startled. A man in his mid-twenties with piercing grey eyes and dark hair stood there, holding out a spare set of armor and a sword. His face was unreadable, but his tone carried an unexpected hint of friendliness.


    "Uh¡­ thanks?" Arthur stammered.


    The man nodded curtly. "I''m Felt, second in charge here. If you need anything, you come to me." Then, without another word, Felt walked off, leaving Arthur blinking in confusion.


    Since his arrival, no one in Unit 7 had spoken to him beyond orders or thinly veiled insults. Most hated him outright. Now one of them had extended an olive branch?


    Arthur chuckled dryly as he donned the new armor. Maybe war really did forge bonds. The thought brought a flicker of nostalgia. He remembered Merlin¡ªhis old friend back when he was still Reshi, back before everything had gone to shit.


    Shaking off the memory, he adjusted the armor. It was heavier than his old one but gave a solid feel.


    Outside, the sky was a grim shade of gray, the clouds swirling like nature itself was grieving. The air reeked of rot and iron, the stench of death clinging to the barren battlefield.


    Across the plain, the enemy army assembled just beyond the range of their magical artillery. Arthur''s side, battered and demoralized from yesterday''s massacre, barely resembled an army anymore. The ground was littered with broken bodies and shattered weapons. The dead had been left where they fell, their glassy eyes staring into the overcast sky, abandoned to the chaos.


    Arthur frowned. It wasn''t just the losses that gnawed at him; it was the sheer incompetence. Yesterday''s battle had been a slaughter, not a strategy. No formations, no tactics. Just one desperate, bloody charge after another.


    "Is there no such thing as flipping tactics in this damn world?" he muttered, kicking at a loose piece of rubble.


    Before he could stew any longer, the commander''s voice shattered the stillness.


    "ON MY COMMAND!" The booming voice carried the force of magically enhanced authority. "MARCH!"


    The army lurched forward, a slow, grim advance. The sound of thousands of boots stomping in unison shook the earth beneath them. Unit 7, bruised and bloodied, marched at the front.


    Arthur''s pulse quickened as the gap between the two armies closed. He adjusted his grip on his sword, sweat slicking his palms.


    At the head of their formation, the commander stood tall, his armor gleaming with enchantments that pulsed faintly like a heartbeat. His weapon, a spear of black metal veined with glowing white runes, exuded a crushing aura of power.


    "CHAAAARGE!"


    The two armies collided with a thunderous crash of steel on steel. The cacophony of screams, roars, and the sickening crunch of bones filled the air.


    Arthur didn''t think; he moved. His blade danced on the edge of instinct and desperation. He parried one strike and retaliated with a thrust, his movements honed by necessity more than skill.


    Two enemy soldiers lunged at him with spears, their faces twisted with malicious glee. Arthur roared, charging headlong into them. His sudden aggression caught them off guard, forcing them to split apart.


    Pivoting, Arthur targeted one of them, unleashing a relentless barrage of strikes. The soldier staggered, dropping his spear. Arthur didn''t hesitate. His blade found the man''s throat, and blood arced into the air.


    The second soldier seized the opportunity, lunging at Arthur''s exposed back. Acting on instinct, Arthur spun, deflecting the blow just in time. The impact numbed his arm, but a feral grin spread across his face.


    "Not today," he growled.


    With a swift, brutal motion, Arthur closed the gap, driving his sword down into the soldier''s skull.


    Minutes blurred into hours. Arthur hacked, slashed, and ducked through the chaos, his muscles screaming in protest. Nearby, Noah fought like an artist painting his masterpiece¡ªelegant, precise, untouchable. Even surrounded, he moved with an effortless grace.


    This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    Arthur''s grudging respect grew as he watched. ''Damn he can fight.'' But then he saw it¡ªa fifth soldier charging toward Noah''s blind spot.


    "No!" Arthur bellowed, hurling himself forward.


    The spear was mid-thrust when Arthur tackled the soldier, sending them both crashing to the ground. They grappled in the dirt, Arthur''s arms straining as he fought for control. With a desperate kick, he disarmed the soldier, seized his own blade, and drove it home.


    Noah turned, expression unreadable, and nodded. Arthur nodded back.


    From that moment on, the two fought side by side, moving with an unspoken synergy. Noah''s speed and precision distracted their enemies, while Arthur delivered the killing blows. Together, they were an unstoppable force.


    They fought like that for hours. Retreating a couple of times to rest as fresh soldiers were rotated into the chaos. The rest was never long enough, but with Noah now, there was some order to the chaos. The both of them combined to form an efficient killing machine.


    However, nothing good ever lasts in war.


    A thunderous boom echoed across the battlefield. Arthur turned just in time to see Noah collapse, an arrow embedded deep in his shoulder.


    Above, a MageKnight archer hovered, her gleaming armor catching the fading light. Each arrow she loosed caused a sonic boom, ripping through soldiers and armor like paper.


    "Shit," Arthur muttered, kneeling beside Noah.


    "She''s got some anti-mana skill," Noah hissed. "I can''t move my arm."


    Arthur scanned the battlefield. The commander was still fighting, his spear blazing as he held off seven MageKnights by himself in a monstrous display of strength. But the archer had him in her sights.


    "NOOOO!" Arthur screamed as her arrow flew.


    The commander staggered, blood gushing from his neck. But instead of falling, he smiled grimly. His body began to glow with raw mana.


    With a defiant roar, he detonated himself.


    The explosion turned the battlefield to ash, forcing the archer to descend.


    Arthur''s mind raced. The archer needed to be killed. By the looks of it she was targeting anyone dangerous, and that including any commanding officers. He couldn''t allow her to cripple the army. If their commanding structure fell, then the army would descend into chaos, consumed by the rebels'' superior forces.


    ''At that height¡­ maybe.''


    "Noah, how high can you throw me?"


    "You''re insane," Noah snapped.


    "Do it! Use mana burst.!"


    "H-how-"


    "Later, I promise", Arthur interrupted, his voice firm.


    Noah stared at him, then sighed. "Fine. You''d better survive, you crazy bastard."


    That made him smile.


    "So I can kill you myself", Noah continued.


    That made him stop smiling.


    The makeshift launch was chaotic. Arthur sprinted toward Noah, who channeled every ounce of mana into his legs. At the last second, Arthur jumped, and Noah kicked, the explosion of mana hurling Arthur through the air.


    The archer''s eyes widened as Arthur hurtled toward her. She raised her bow, but it was too late.


    Arthur''s sword drove through her chest, the force of the impact shattering her armor. They plummeted to the ground, Arthur pummeling her with his fists, refusing to let her get away to safety.


    Then the world went black.


    Arthur awoke to darkness. The air was cold, and the ground beneath him was jagged and hard. Looking down, he saw his legs. They were a broken, mangled mess.


    "Fuck''s sake," he groaned.


    Then a voice, close and mocking, pierced the darkness. "Oh, so you''re awake."


    Arthur froze, his blood turning to ice.


    "How¡­ how are you still alive?" he whispered.


    A soft laugh echoed. "You mean after you stabbed me like a fucking lunatic and dragged me to the ground as if you were the devil taking me to hell?"


    "Uh¡­ yeah."


    "I''ve got two mid-grade healing potions."


    Arthur''s stomach sank.


    "Why don''t you leave?" he asked, voice tight with hope.


    "Because the artillery would shoot me down. Duh."


    "Fuck."


    "Look", she sighed wearily. "Truce until morning. I''ll give you one potion. Fair fight after that. Deal?"


    Arthur''s eyes narrowed suspiciously. Trying to ignore the flaring pain in his legs he asked with an untrusting tone. "Why?"


    "So you don''t want the healing potion? No questions asked. That''s another condition."


    Arthur sighed, the pain urging him to say yes. "Fine", he relented."


    A vial sailed through the air. He caught it clumsily.


    "Careful," she teased. "Drop it, and you''re dead."


    Downing the potion, Arthur felt his legs knit together. A wave of exhaustion waved over him, as the potion sapped his energy.


    "What''s your name?" she asked. Her voice tinged with more than a little amount of curiosity.


    Arthur hesitated, then smiled.


    "Reshi. My name is Reshi."

 Chapter 12 - The Second Night of battle

    "Reshi, huh. I think you might be the first Reshi I''ve ever met. Is it a common name on your side of the empire?"


    Arthur laughed, her innocent curiosity catching him off guard in the best way. "No¡­ I guess it isn''t. What about yours?"


    "Seraline."


    "That''s too long. I''m renaming you."


    "What?!" she cried out, her outrage comically childlike.


    "Sera. That''s your new name now."


    "Fuck off!" she shot back, indignant.


    "Calm down, Sera," he replied, grinning wide enough to hurt.


    She muttered something under her breath, her tone a low rumble of irritation. Arthur chuckled quietly, suddenly grateful for the temporary truce. The silence stretched for a moment before she broke it in a softer voice.


    "How old are you?"


    "What¡­ you trying to check if I''m legal?"


    Sera gasped in outrage, and Arthur couldn''t help but laugh harder. Pissing her off was oddly satisfying.


    "You tell me first, Sera."


    "I asked first."


    "Yeah, but you got the first question last time. It''s my turn."


    Her silence lasted for a heartbeat before a faint laugh echoed across the darkness between them.


    "I''m sixteen."


    Arthur blinked, surprised. Sixteen? Such power at that age? She hadn''t been in the novel¡ªhe would''ve remembered someone like her. Taking down a commander with a single arrow? That was legendary.


    "What?" Her voice turned brittle. "Feeling bad


    you stabbed a kid?"


    Arthur burst into laughter again. "You know I''m fourteen, right?"


    "W-what?" Sera exclaimed. For the first time, she sounded genuinely shocked.


    "You''re fourteen?! What the fuck is up with your life that you''re here at fourteen?"


    Arthur shrugged, though he knew she couldn''t see him. "I could say the same about you. Tell you what¡ªlet''s make a deal. I''ll tell you my story if you tell me yours. That way, when one of us dies, at least our stories won''t die with us."


    The silence returned, heavy this time. Arthur smiled faintly, knowing she was mulling it over. They both understood the reality of their situation¡ªhe had no chance of beating her. Sharing stories felt pointless, maybe even stupid. But for some reason, he didn''t care. He had died twice now. Which wasn''t a lot, but still weird it happened twice. He was simply too tired to feel worried about tomorrow.


    "Okay," she finally said. "But you go first. And you have to tell the truth."


    "I will. Promise." Arthur took a deep breath. He smiled inwardly, unseen by Sera in the darkness. ''She''ll never know how truthful I really am.''


    "Well, you already know my name is Reshi. I joined the army young, as you can guess. My parents couldn''t afford higher education, and, well, I wanted to be a hero. Thought it''d be amazing to fight for my country. At first, it was. Felt like I was doing something honorable, something heroic, b¡ª"


    "But you didn''t know what you were signing up for," she finished softly.


    "Yeah," Arthur exhaled. For some reason, it felt good to finally talk about it. Maybe because he figured one of them would be dead by the end of this anyway.


    "Then the fighting started. I was good at it. Really good. Made friends, too. Well, one real friend¡ªMerlin. We hated each other in training." He chuckled, but the sound was hollow.


    "Was that the person you were with?"


    "Him? No, that''s not Merlin." Arthur''s voice dropped, becoming almost a whisper. "Merlin''s dead. Died a while ago. A part of me went with him when he died. Bastard decided to be a hero. Saved all of us."


    Arthur''s tone turned harsh, the words coming faster now, like they''d been bottled up for too long. "We were sent on a recon mission. Should''ve been easy. But the higher-ups screwed up¡ªbig time. Sent us into an active war zone. We got annihilated. Merlin¡­ he drew their attention away so we could escape. The army bombed the site right after."


    Sera didn''t say anything for a while. He could tell she had questions about the bombs, but she didn''t ask. After all, this had all happened on a different planet, it must''ve not made complete sense to her. Bombs hadn''t been used here for hundreds of years.


    "My turn," she said quietly. "I didn''t join the army like you. I was forced into the rebellion. Forced to fight against the Thoracen Empire. Not that I was really against it at the beginning."


    "I don''t get it," Arthur interrupted. "If you don''t want to fight, why don''t you just¡­ not?"


    Sera laughed bitterly. "If only I could. They''ve got my family. We used to be nobles before the rebellion, but we refused to fight. So they imprisoned my family. When I underwent my trial, they told me if I wanted them to live, I had to fight."


    Arthur felt something twist in his chest. Sympathy. They''d both been forced into this war, different sides of the same coin.


    "I was forced to fight, forced to train, forced to kill. I don''t want to be part of this war, Reshi. But I have to. Do you understand?"


    Arthur was quiet. He understood perfectly.


    "What''s your full name, Sera?"


    "Seraline Morella."


    "Well, Lady Seraline Morella, if I survive this shit, I''ll try to free your family. If you survive, well, there''s nothing I want really. But if I think of something, I''ll let you know."


    "But how will you let me know if you''re¡ª"


    "I''ll let you know, Sera," he cut her off firmly.


    There was a long silence before her soft voice broke it. "Okay."


    They both fell silent again, taking comfort in the strange companionship they''d found in the middle of the chaos.


    "Hey, Sera."


    "Yes?"


    "For what it''s worth, you''re insanely strong."


    Arthur could feel her smile through the darkness.


    "Do you have magic?" she asked after a pause.


    "Nope. Haven''t undergone my trial yet."


    "What?!" she shrieked. "You stabbed me, and you don''t even have magic?"


    "Yup," he replied smugly.


    She laughed¡ªa real laugh this time, unrestrained and full of life. "Man, Reshi. I''m glad I met you. We could''ve been good friends."


    Arthur snorted. "Go to sleep first. We''ll need it tomorrow."


    "This''ll be my first time sleeping with a man," she teased.


    "Shut up," Arthur snapped, flushing. "Stay on your side of the crater."


    She laughed again, softer this time. "Goodnight, Reshi."


    "Goodnight, Sera."


    "Hey Reshi?"


    "What", he snapped.


    "Make sure to keep your promise okay?"


    "Why ar-"


    "Okay?" She interrupted.


    "I will. Now let me sleep Sera."


    Arthur closed his eyes, letting the exhaustion take over.


    .................................................


    This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.


    Arthur awoke with a jolt, scrambling to his feet. Around him, the ground trembled, a deep rumbling echoing in his chest.


    ''The battle. It''s starting.''


    His first thought was of Sera. He turned toward her side of the crater, his heart pounding. He half-expected to see an arrow flying toward him, her eyes alight with determination. But when he looked, there was no attack.


    There was no movement at all in fact.


    Arthur''s stomach dropped as his gaze fell on her still form. Her once-pristine armor was shattered, her body crumpled against the crater wall. A splintered blade jutted grotesquely from her stomach, its edges crusted with dried blood. The remains of his blade.


    "No," he whispered, his voice hoarse. He stumbled forward, his legs moving on their own.


    Dropping to his knees beside her, he reached out with trembling fingers, pressing them against her neck. He searched desperately for a pulse, for any sign of life.


    Nothing.


    Her purple eyes stared blankly past him, their light extinguished. Her white hair, so striking the night before, now framed her lifeless face in a cruel mockery of peace.


    "You idiot," Arthur growled, his voice breaking. "You should''ve used the healing potion on yourself¡­"


    But even as the words left his mouth, he knew they were futile. A mid-grade potion wouldn''t have saved her, not with a wound like that. The blade had splintered inside her, tearing through her organs. She must''ve known she was beyond saving.


    Arthur clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. She''d chosen to die. She''d given him the potion, made him promise to keep going, and accepted her fate.


    "You planned this¡­" he whispered. "You knew¡­"


    His vision blurred, his chest tightening with a grief that felt far too heavy for someone he''d only just met. But Sera hadn''t been just anyone. She''d been one of the few he had actually spoken with since arriving to this planet.


    She''d been a warrior. A noble. A girl who didn''t want to fight but did anyway because she had to. She''d been someone who laughed in the face of despair, someone who could''ve been his friend if the world weren''t so cruel.


    Arthur reached for her bow, the weapon that had brought down his commander, and gently laid it across her body.


    "I''ll keep my promise, Sera," he murmured, his voice barely audible over the distant sounds of battle.


    He stayed there for a moment longer, staring down at her still form, before forcing himself to stand. The battle was raging now, the distant clamor growing louder. Arthur''s jaw tightened. He had to move.


    As he climbed out of the crater, the chaos of the battlefield hit him like a wave. Soldiers clashed in a storm of steel and screams, the air thick with the acrid scent of blood and mana.


    Arthur moved like a shadow, slipping through the fray. His body felt heavy, his mind sluggish, but his instincts drove him forward.


    Ahead, an enemy soldier stalked through the chaos, a spear gripped tightly in his hands. Arthur approached silently, his movements precise. In one fluid motion, he snapped the man''s neck.


    The body crumpled at his feet, and Arthur bent to pick up the spear. He''d never wielded one before, but it felt¡­ right. The weight, the balance¡ªit was as if it had been made for him.


    Hefting the weapon, Arthur threw himself into the fight. The spear spun in his hands, a blur of motion that deflected strikes and killed with deadly precision. He knocked aside a sword thrust, driving the spearhead through his attacker''s throat.


    But the exhilaration was fleeting. Each kill, instead of feeling like a victory, twisted his stomach further. He couldn''t stop thinking about Sera¡ªabout her laughter, her bitterness, her quiet strength.


    ''She didn''t even want to fight. How many like her have I killed that didn''t want to fight either?''


    Snarling, Arthur pressed on, the spear becoming an extension of his rage. His movements were brutal, efficient, cutting down anyone who stood in his path. But no matter how many enemies he killed, the guilt lingered, gnawing at the edges of his mind.


    ''It''s not my fault, he told himself, over and over. It''s not my fault.''


    By the time he reached his side of the battlefield, his arms felt like lead, and his breaths came in ragged gasps. Blood, some of it his own, most of it not, streaked his armor and skin.


    He stumbled into his unit''s building, his body screaming for rest. He didn''t expect anyone to be there, so when he saw Noah lounging on one of the beds, his green eyes widening in surprise, Arthur nearly jumped.


    "You''re alive?" Noah asked, his voice a mix of shock and disbelief.


    Arthur managed a weary smile. "Surprise."


    To his astonishment, Noah threw his head back and laughed, the sound echoing through the small space. "Good, good. Now I can still kill you myself."


    Arthur snorted, dragging himself to an empty bed. "What''re you doing here? Why aren''t you out there?"


    Noah held up his injured arm, moving it experimentally. "Mana burst. Leaves me useless for twenty-four hours. Can''t fight properly today."


    Arthur scoffed. "You''re a wimp. I''ve never even used magic, and I''m still fighting."


    Noah growled, but the corners of his mouth


    twitched upward. "What about the archer? Did you kill her?"


    Arthur froze, lying down so Noah couldn''t see his face. He stared at the ceiling, his chest tight.


    "Yeah¡­" he said softly. "She''s dead."


    Noah studied him for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then he leaned back, letting out a long breath. "You really don''t fucking die Arthur."


    Arthur didn''t respond. His mind was back in the crater, with Sera''s lifeless body and her quiet, haunting words.


    "Make sure to keep your promise, alright?"


    "I will," he whispered under his breath, closing his eyes.


    But even as sleep claimed him, the guilt and grief lingered, heavy as the spear still gripped in his hand, as if it was some sort of talisman.


    Noah looked at Arthur incredulously. He thought that Arthur had died. He had seen the white-haired noble shoot into the sky, and then fall and disappear in a huge explosion. Everyone had seen it. Arthur shot into the air like a bullet, and then dragged the MageKnight to the ground as he fell, like he was some demon dragging the archer to hell. They were forced to retreat soon after. He didn''t want to, but Officer Mara had dragged him back. His legs had been severely injured and his shoulder was losing a dangerous amount of blood. But still, he had to be forced to return. It still irked him, but he realised that he actually didn''t want Arthur to die. The feeling left him conflicted.


    But yet again, Arthur had returned from the impossible. Proving him wrong again. Sure he looked more weary, his armour practically crumbling of his skin. He looked more like a street urchin than a noble. But he survived. Noah smiled, leaning back on his bed.


    ''Damn bastard won''t die.''

 Chapter 13 - Finding my way

    Arthur didn''t know how long he had slept. All he knew was that sleep was far kinder than waking. In his dreams, he was in the living room again, his family moving about as if the war, the blood, and the guilt had never touched him. His mother hummed softly as she cooked, his father sat reading the paper, and Mary was there too, her laugh a melody that warmed the room. She wasn''t broken here, not like she had been in life. In this dream, she and his mother spoke like old friends, their joy untainted by pain.


    Arthur soaked it all in, every moment healing him in a way nothing in the waking world ever could. It felt like the blood on his hands faded with each passing second.


    But not all wounds were so easily soothed. He half-expected to see Sera here too, but she never came.


    "Why would she?" he muttered to himself in the dream. "I didn''t even know her."


    Yet her absence haunted him. Her death weighed heavily on his soul. It wasn''t just her death, it was her betrayal. She had promised him a fight, a fair contest of survival, yet it had all been a lie. Sera had known she wouldn''t leave that battlefield alive. She had used him, lied to him so she wouldn''t die alone. Or maybe it was her only act of defiance to a power that forced her to fight. And he had given it to her.


    That''s what stayed with him. That''s what burned.


    Shaking his head, Arthur pulled himself from the dream, forcing his eyes open.


    He woke on the bottom bunk, his armor crumbling off his body in jagged, broken pieces. Every muscle ached. Every bruise throbbed. And perhaps most of all. He was exhausted, the tiring effects of the healing potion still lingering.


    "Man, I''m running through these armors like paper," he muttered. "Wonder if Felt''s got a third set lying around."


    The room was alive with murmured conversations, but it quieted the moment Arthur stood. He could feel their eyes on him. His squadmates. They all stared at him silently, their eyes inscrutable.


    Arthur ignored them and approached Felt, a cadet with dark hair and sharp, grey eyes.


    "I need new armor," he said bluntly, too tired for pleasantries.


    Felt studied him for a moment before nodding. "I''ll see what I can do. In the meantime, Officer Mara''s been asking for you. She''s in her office."


    "Got it. After a shower," Arthur replied. The grime, blood, and sweat from days of battle clung to him, and the thought of cleaning it off felt like the closest thing to peace he could ask for.


    The hot water was a blessing, washing away the filth and some of the tension in his body. Yet as the blood swirled down the drain, Arthur''s mind wandered. He remembered every face he''d killed, every desperate cry. Sera''s lifeless body flashed in his mind, and his stomach churned. He clenched his fists against the wall, letting the scalding water cascade over him.


    When he emerged, cleaner but no less burdened, he headed for Mara''s office. Her tired voice rang out from inside.


    "Enter."


    Arthur stepped in. She sat behind her desk, her red hair disheveled, dark circles under her eyes, and fresh bruises decorating her face. She looked as exhausted as he felt.


    "Cadet, you''re awake," she said, leaning back in her chair. "Good. Why don''t you tell me what happened yesterday?"


    Arthur hesitated, confused by the question. "I went to battle. Got caught in enemy lines and couldn''t make it back, so I hid in a crater and returned at dawn."


    Mara tilted her head, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "That''s not quite the story I heard."


    Arthur frowned. "Ma''am?"


    She laughed. A clear, almost melodic sound that felt out of place in this room. "Don''t play dumb, Arthur. I''m talking about how you flew into the air like a lunatic and took out the archer who killed the commander. You did take her down, right?"


    Arthur''s chest tightened. "Yes, ma''am. She''s dead."


    Her dark eyes bore into him. "You spoke to her, didn''t you?"


    Arthur''s head snapped up, shocked. "What makes you say that?"


    Mara leaned forward. "Because I''ve been watching you. When you first got here, you didn''t show an ounce of remorse for killing anyone. But now you do. Something changed. And, you didn''t deny it when I brought it up."


    Arthur stared at her, caught off guard. After a moment, he sighed. "She didn''t die right away. We¡­ talked. But she''s dead, ma''am. That''s all that matters."


    Mara leaned back, her gaze softening just slightly. "War is horrible, isn''t it?"


    Arthur''s voice was barely a whisper. "Yes."


    She studied him for a moment longer before dismissing him. "Get some rest, Cadet. But don''t forget¡ªtomorrow, you''ll fight again. Guilt doesn''t excuse you from survival. Remember, your life depends on this."


    Arthur nodded and left, the collar around his neck feeling heavier than ever. He wasn''t a soldier. He was a criminal, a tool to be used and discarded. In a lot of ways, he was no different the Sera. Only he was alive.


    Leaving her office, Arthur made his way back to his bed. Everyone was sleeping, after all, rest was worth more than gold during war.


    The hours slipped by in silence until Felt returned with a new set of armor. Arthur didn''t bother with the sword Felt offered, taking up the spear he had used the day before. The weapon felt right in his hands, almost natural.


    When the call came, Arthur was back on the frontlines. The roar of a thousand footsteps thundered in his ears, the rhythm of war driving him forward. Noah was by his side, and though they didn''t speak, there was an unspoken understanding between them now. They fought together as equals, Arthur''s spear weaving through the chaos alongside Noah''s blade.


    Each kill felt like a dagger in his soul. Every time he struck, the faces of the fallen stayed with him. He couldn''t shut it out anymore. They weren''t faceless enemies. They were people¡ªpeople with families, lives, dreams.


    ''I''m sorry,'' he thought as he thrust his spear into a soldier''s chest.


    Another came at him, and he spun the spear, slicing cleanly through their neck.


    ''I''m sorry.''


    And again. ''I''m sorry.''


    The words became a mantra, echoing in his mind with each kill.


    ''I''m sorry. I''m sorry. I''m sorry.''


    A hand clamped down on Arthur''s shoulder. He spun instinctively, muscles coiled, thrusting his spear forward with all the precision of a cornered predator.


    The spear stopped short, deflected with almost casual ease.


    "Arthur!" Noah''s voice was sharp, jolting him out of his trance.


    Arthur blinked, lowering the spear, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "Sorry," he muttered, his voice barely audible.


    Noah''s brows furrowed, concern flashing across his face, but he didn''t press further. "We need to get back. Rest. Now."


    Arthur nodded numbly, the adrenaline ebbing away, leaving behind a gnawing exhaustion. Together, they navigated the chaotic battlefield, weaving through debris, bodies, and the occasional desperate clash.


    Arthur followed in silence, his mind still stuck somewhere between the living and the dead.


    As they moved behind the frontlines toward the relative safety of the base, Noah broke the silence.


    "Hey, Arthur¡­ I was calling you. Like fifty times. You didn''t answer."


    Arthur shrugged, his voice flat. "Sorry. Got caught up in the fighting. Didn''t hear you."


    Noah didn''t look convinced, but he nodded anyway. They walked past a fresh wave of soldiers heading toward the front. Their armor gleamed, unmarred by the sweat, grime, and blood that painted those who returned. Arthur watched them, their faces too clean, too young.


    The silence stretched until Noah spoke again. "Hey, Arthur."


    "Yeah?"


    "I¡­ I won''t be able to go back with you."


    Arthur turned to him, confused. "What? Why?"


    Noah''s expression tightened, a bitter smile playing at his lips. "Mana burst. The healing earlier, it''s not sitting right. I need more time to recover."


    Arthur nodded, his tone nonchalant, though a flicker of disappointment registered in his eyes. "That''s fine. Rest up."


    He patted Noah on the shoulder, trying to reassure him, before getting up. The base offered a momentary reprieve, a brief escape from death''s shadow, but Arthur couldn''t linger. Something tugged at him, an inexplicable pull.


    He didn''t know why, but he felt like he needed to be back out there.


    Taking up his spear, Arthur pushed through the exhaustion and charged toward the frontlines once more. The chaos embraced him like an old friend, and the spear spun in his hands with practiced ease. He moved like a whirlwind of destruction, cutting through enemy ranks with a precision that seemed almost divine.


    And then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw it.


    It wasn''t clear how he noticed; amidst the chaos, it should have been impossible. Yet, his gaze locked onto the sight of an ally soldier, crumpling to the ground with a pained cry. The soldier had been impaled, his weapon slipping from trembling hands as he fell.


    Arthur was moving before he even realized it, instincts overriding thought. He didn''t check for enemies nearby, didn''t look to see if anyone else was coming to help. All that mattered was reaching the fallen soldier.


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    He slid to the ground beside the wounded man, crouching low. The soldier writhed, his face pale, blood pouring from a wound in his abdomen. Arthur''s breath steadied, his panic melting into a practiced calm as his training as Reshi took over.


    The injury was bad, Arthur could tell at a glance, but it wasn''t the wound itself that would kill him. It was the blood loss.


    Arthur shed his chest armor plate without hesitation, pressing it hard against the gushing wound. The soldier thrashed, a weak cry escaping his lips. "Stay still," Arthur barked, his tone commanding yet steady.


    The soldier''s thrashing slowed, his wide, panicked eyes meeting Arthur''s. "You''ll be fine. Just hold on," Arthur muttered, though he wasn''t sure whether the words were for the soldier or himself.


    His hands worked swiftly, drawing on muscle memory. With one hand, he kept pressure on the wound; with the other, he searched for anything¡ªcloth, bandages, even scraps of armor¡ªto fashion a makeshift dressing.


    The battlefield blurred around them. Shouts and clashes faded into a distant hum. For Arthur, there was only the soldier in front of him, the fragile thread of life slipping away too quickly.


    "I''ve got you," he whispered, his voice steady despite the chaos. "You''re not dying today."


    When he saw the wounded soldier, something shifted. Without thinking, he sprinted to the man''s side. His instincts as Reshi took over, his hands steady even as chaos raged around him. The wound was bad, but the blood loss would kill him first. Arthur tore off his armor and pressed it against the wound.


    "Hold this," he barked. The soldier obeyed, his wide eyes filled with hope.


    Arthur improvised, using his backplate as a makeshift sled to drag the man back to the medical tent. The journey was grueling, enemy and ally alike clashing all around him, but he didn''t stop. When he reached the tent, Marsh stared at him, dumbfounded.


    "Help him," Arthur said, his voice resolute. Together, they got the man to a healer.


    "Arthur, what the hell are you doing?" Marsh asked.


    Arthur smiled, exhausted but determined. "Saving people."


    He didn''t wait for a reply, turning back to the battlefield. This was his purpose now. Not to kill, but to save.


    Hours passed in a blur. Arthur''s body screamed in protest, his muscles on fire, but he didn''t stop. Each time he dragged another soldier back to the tent, he felt a flicker of something, hope, maybe.


    Arthur scanned the darkness, his body low as he weaved through the chaos of clashing soldiers. Blood and steel filled the air, the cacophony almost deafening. His eyes darted across the churned-up ground, scanning through the dead and dying. Then, he spotted it, a hand, pale and unmoving, sticking out from beneath a heap of bodies.


    "There!" he hissed to himself, his heart racing.


    Sprinting toward the figure, Arthur ignored the shouts and screams around him, each step driving him closer. As he reached the soldier, his breath caught. It was Officer Mara.


    Her dark eyes, hazy with pain, locked onto his. Her red hair fanned out across the muddied ground like a macabre splash of poppies, streaked with dirt and blood.


    "Cadet," she grunted weakly, her voice barely above a whisper.


    Arthur gave a breathless laugh, a mix of relief and grim disbelief. "So, it''s you."


    Without wasting another second, he tore off his chest plate and backplate. Using his spear, he slashed through the upper portion of his bodysuit, stripping it into makeshift bandages. Mara''s injuries were severe, deep cuts along her arm and thigh. He could tell the blood loss was already taking its toll.


    "You''re losing too much blood," he muttered, more to himself than her.


    His training as Reshi returned in full flow and his hand moved with a smooth practised motion. Arthur wrapped one strip of fabric tightly around her arm, fashioning a crude tourniquet. Her face twisted in pain, but she didn''t protest. Moving to her leg, he repeated the process, tying another strip just above the wound.


    "What¡­ what are you doing?" Mara croaked, her voice laced with both confusion and pain.


    "Saving your life," Arthur grunted, his tone clipped.


    She flinched, her gaze flicking to his hands as they worked methodically. For a brief moment, something unspoken passed between them, a shared understanding of just how close she was to death. Mara seemed to realize that his intentions were pure, and her protests ceased.


    With the tourniquets in place, Arthur leaned back, breathing heavily. Then, without warning, he scooped her up. He set her onto his backplate and secured his chest plate over her as an improvised shield.


    "Hold on," he exhaled, his voice strained as he lifted her weight.


    Pushing his body to its limits, Arthur began the grueling journey back toward the base. Each step felt heavier than the last as he maneuvered through the chaos, dodging blades and stumbling over corpses. The battlefield seemed endless, a hellish expanse of blood and fire.


    Then it happened.


    Arthur didn''t see the attack coming. One moment he was moving forward, the next he was airborne, the force of the blast sending him sprawling like a ragdoll. He hit the ground hard, his unarmored body skidding across the dirt. Pain exploded through him as cuts and bruises formed instantly.


    Groggily, he forced himself to his knees, his vision swimming. Turning toward the source of the attack, his stomach dropped.


    A MageKnight.


    It was him¡ªthe same one who had sent a comet of destruction at Arthur on the first day. His hulking form radiated power, fire and earth swirling around him like a living volcano. Each step he took left destruction in his wake, soldiers falling before him as if they were nothing.


    "Shit," Arthur whispered, his throat dry.


    The MageKnight''s grin was wide, predatory, as he tore his way through. He relished the carnage, savoring each death like a god toying with mortals. Arthur scrambled to his feet, his mind racing.


    He sprinted back to Mara, who was still limp where she lay. "Don''t make a sound," he hissed.


    Mara nodded weakly, her fear evident. Her mana reserves were drained and she was heavily injured. In short, she was defenseless. Arthur worked quickly, burying her under a pile of corpses to hide her from view. It was a grisly solution, but it was all he could think of.


    The MageKnight was getting closer. Arthur turned, planning to do the same for himself, but it was too late.


    A fiery explosion erupted nearby, and Arthur was sent flying again, slamming into the ground with a sickening thud. Every nerve in his body screamed in pain, his breaths coming in shallow gasps.


    The MageKnight loomed over the battlefield, his grin widening as he spotted Arthur. The boy was bare-chested, scrambling away like a desperate animal.


    "Oh no, you don''t," the MageKnight sneered.


    He conjured a small meteor, hurling it toward Arthur. The ground erupted in a fiery blast, knocking him to his knees. Arthur clambered to his feet, turning to face his enemy.


    "So, you survived, little rat," the MageKnight said, his voice dripping with sadistic glee.


    Sarkar the MageKnight grinned maliciously as he saw the white haired boy pick up the spear. Relishing the scent of fear in the air. The white -haired boy stared at him, his scarlet eyes reflecting Sarkar''s flames.


    ''Oh, I can''t wait to kill'', he bubbled inwardly. ''To see the look of terror, to break his will. To watch his expression transform as he saw death slowly press down on him like being crushed under a giant''s foot.''


    The boy charged, spear spinning determinedly in his hands. Sarkar bit back his chuckle. The boy was talented, sure. But he lacked training, and experience. Thrusting out his hand, he shaped his mana into a flaming sword.


    Then he struck. The sword ate through the spear hungrily. The boy yelped in pain as his fingers burnt from the intense heat.


    "Good, good. Scream some more!" Sarkar cackled loudly. "Entertain me little rat!!!" In a sadistic stupor he thrust the sword forward, impaling through Arthur''s stomach.


    Sarkar delighted as Arthur''s eyes widened in pain. But, to his disappointment, no sound came out. Ripping out the sword, he saw the white-haired boy fall backwards onto the floor. No longer breathing.


    "Tsk."


    ''He had died too quickly. Oh well. There were others to play with.'' Turning, Sarkar left, hoping to find reverie elsewhere.


    Arthur''s red eyes met his, filled with defiance. Slowly, he crouched and picked up a discarded spear.


    Arthur lay there, his vision dimming as blood pooled beneath him.


    ''So this is how it ends. I never expected to die, so soon after dying.''


    Darkness crept in, swallowing the edges of his vision.


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    Then, as if from nowhere, a blue screen materialized before him:


    CONGRATULATIONS: ARTHUR GRAVEWALKER


    YOUR TRIAL IS UPON YOU.


    ERROR: BODY IS IN A STATE OF DEATH.


    ACTIVATING TEMPORARY STASIS.


    STASIS SUCCESSFUL.


    YOU ARE NOW BEING TRANSPORTED TO YOUR TRIAL¡­

 Chapter 14 - Trial

    When Arthur opened his eyes once more, he was standing. Not amidst the fires of war, not on the blood-soaked burning hell of the battlefield. No, he was standing in a serene field of grass. It wasn''t the trimmed, synthetic green lawns that the aristocracy in his old world flaunted and maintained. No. It was untouched, vibrant and serene. The grass was tall, deep and lush, like a perfect emerald sea, rippling under the gentle breeze.


    Above him the sky stretched endlessly, a soft gradient of pinks and yellows. For a moment Arthur just stood there, revelling in the weightless feeling of peace.


    "Haahhh. How nice," he murmured, the words coming out softly. ''Was this death¡­It wasn''t bad.''


    He let his fingers trail through the blades of grass, their softness a sharp contrast to the sharp edges of spears and swords that had defined his life since arriving on Pandora.


    Then it all came back, the searing pain, the MageKnight''s blade carved from flame burying itself in his stomach, the unbearable heat as it burned him from the inside out.


    And then¡­ darkness. No, that wasn''t right. Right before it had consumed him entirely, there was something else. A blue screen.


    As if summoned by his thoughts, the translucent blue screen materialized in front of him.


    CONGRATULATIONS, ARTHUR GRAVEWALKER


    YOUR TRIAL IS NOW UPON YOU


    PREREQUISITES FOR ENTERING THE TRIAL: UNBLESSED


    STATUS: ERROR! CANDIDATE ALREADY HAS A BLESSING


    BLESSING : SUN''S CONCEPT FOUND


    ERROR! PREREQUISITE CONDITIONS FULFILLED


    Those words appeared for him. They were right there. The words that he had been waiting for since he arrived in this world. Sun''s Concept. So it was a god''s blessing.


    CALCULATING¡­


    CANDIDATE HAS FULFILLED PREREQUISITES. CANDIDATE HAS SUCCESSFULLY COMPLETED HIS TRIAL.


    LATENT MANA ABILITIES AWAKENING¡­


    AFFINITIES AWAKENING¡­


    CANDIDATE''S BLESSING AWAKENING¡­


    A surge of power erupted within Arthur, roaring through his veins like molten lava. He gasped, clutching at his chest as his entire body burned¡ªnot with pain, but with raw, uncontainable energy.


    "Hahahah, fucking finally!" he laughed, exhilarated. For once, the universe had thrown him a lifeline instead of a death sentence. His body hummed with newfound strength; he could feel the threads of mana in the air, delicate yet vibrant.


    Just as he began to marvel at this transformation, the screen reappeared, but this time, it wasn''t blue. It was red.


    ERROR!!! DEITY INTERFERENCE


    SYSTEM CORRUPTION DETECTED


    CANDIDATE BEING EXTRACTED BY EXTERNAL ENTITY


    Before Arthur could process the words, the earth beneath him began to shudder violently. A massive black hand clawed its way out of the ground, its shadowy fingers coiling around his body like chains.


    "No!" Arthur screamed as the hand dragged him downward. He tried to resist, but the grip was too strong, the earth swallowing him whole.


    When Arthur opened his eyes again, he was lying on a cold marble floor. Around him stretched an abyss of shadows, so deep it felt as if the concept of light itself had been erased. He sat up, groaning, his head pounding.


    "Where¡­ am I?" he muttered to himself.


    "You are with me¡­"


    The voice was deep and resonant, sending shivers down Arthur''s spine. A figure stepped out of the shadows, his presence overwhelming. Pale skin, dark midnight hair that cascaded in soft curls, and eyes like blood-red rubies that burned with ancient and unyielding power. Though he appeared youthful, his aura screamed of timelessness.


    "I am Hades."


    Arthur''s blood ran cold. Hades, the King of the Underworld. He had briefly read about him. A god feared amongst the Olympians. The oldest brother. He wasn''t someone that usually interacted with humans.


    "H-hello, uh¡­ Lord Hades," Arthur stammered, awkwardly bowing. He had no idea what the protocol was for meeting a god.


    Hades'' lips curled into an amused smirk. Then, to Arthur''s shock, the god let out a laugh¡ªa snorting, almost undignified laugh that echoed through the shadows.


    ''Huh. King of a weird laugh for a god.''


    "Don''t worry, little mortal," Hades said, his laughter subsiding. "I''m not here to kill you. I merely want to¡­ talk. After all, it''s not often a soul as unique as yours enters my domain."


    "What do you mean, as unique as mine?"


    Hades smiled. "Arthur, do you know why I rarely contract with humans?"


    "Uhh, no."


    "It''s because of my nature. I am the god of the underworld. So only those whose souls are closely related to death could ever be summoned into these halls, as you have been."


    "So, it''s because I killed a lot. That doesn''t make sense¡­there are people who have killed more than me."


    Hades snorted. He was decidedly unrefined for a feared deity. "Not killing. I know humans have a penchant for that. I''m talking about dying."


    Arthur''s jaw fell open. ''Did he know I died already. Is that why here''s summoned me here?''


    Hades'' smile widened, "Yes, I know you died already. I don''t know how, but I can guess who. It seems you have attracted the eye of someone far greater than me¡­"


    Hades disappeared from his throne of shadow, appearing before Arthur in a blur..


    "And I don''t say that lightly¡­son of compassion. I don''t know how you managed to gain a concept. Especially his. But then again, it''s not why I summoned you here. I summoned you here to offer you my blessing."


    Arthur stepped back in a daze. His mind racing. It was obvious that Sun was a far greater figure than he had previously realised. Pushing those thoughts aside he replied, fumbling over his words. Hades'' aura of fear was too overwhelming.


    "I-I don''t understand. What''s a concept? And why are you giving me your blessing?"


    Hades sighed, disappearing and reappearing on his throne. "I''ll answer these two questions, it''s not easy to keep you here and I need to hurry this along. But no more. Blessings come in different stages. Higher level blessings are incredibly rare, and incredibly difficult to obtain. They also have significant drawbacks. You wouldn''t have heard of a concept before, because it has never been given to a mortal before. It is the highest level blessing a deity can give. To answer your second question, Gravewalker. I have many reasons. One of them is that you are one of the few humans that can receive my blessing. Because of your unique constitution."


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    "Because I have died already", Arthur replied, no longer bothering to try and hide the fact.


    "Yes. Now will you accept my blessing?"


    "Will you give me your concept?"


    Hades looked at him blankly, then broke into fits of laughter, almost falling off his chair. "No. The trial to obtain my concept will kill you, and I don''t trust humans with that power. You''ll get a middle-rank blessing, Gravewalker. And even that might be too much, I wouldn''t offer it, but since your other blessing is quite incompatible with mine, it is only right."


    ''Hmm, so a concept is quite a powerful thing. I''m quite lucky I guess.'' He sighed. There was just too much he didn''t know.


    "Do you accept my terms Arthur?"


    Arthur studied the deity. Then he nodded, more power was always welcome. "Alright."


    Hade smiled. "Very well."


    A surge of power shot through Arhur''s veins. It felt like molten lava. He screamed, falling to the floor. He felt his bones pop and his muscles tear. His skin seemed to tremble and melt as smoke rose from his body. Darkness filled Arthur''s vision as pain overwhelmed him.


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    Arthur awoke on a battleground of dirt, facing a grey angry sky as smoke billowed upwards in thick black pillars.


    A translucent orange screen popped up in front of him.


    NAME: ARTHUR GRAVEWALKER


    AGE: 14 YEARS OLD


    RACE: HUMAN


    CLASS:


    BEGINNER SWORDSMAN LVL1 ¡ª¡ª> BEGINNER SPEARMAN LVL2


    SKILLS :


    AURA : LOCKED


    BLESSINGS:


    Hades Will -


    Prerequisite condition fulfilled


    Fire Affinity , Earth affinitySecond stage - LOCKED


    Sun''s Concept -


    Prerequisite conditions fulfilled


    Healing blood:


    Provides low level regeneration to anyone apart from the caster who consumes the caster''s blood.


    Second stage - LOCKED


    AFFINITIES : BLOOD, FIRE, EARTH


    STATS -


    RANK F


    STRENGTH: F


    AGILITY: F+


    STAMINA: E-


    INTELLIGENCE: F


    MANA CAPACITY: F-


    CHARM : UR


    Arthur sighed, dismissing the screen with a thought. Slowly he got up, head spinning. He looked down, expecting to see a large gaping wound where the sword had pierced him. But there was nothing, only a faint scar running down the length of his stomach.


    ''Officer Mara!''


    The night had begun to settle like a heavy shroud, suffocating and endless, but Arthur pressed on. Officer Mara''s pale, bloodied figure was still where he''d left her, hidden beneath the corpses.


    She gasped when she saw him alive. "Y-you''re still alive¡­ H-how¡ª"


    "No time to explain," Arthur cut in, his tone firm.


    With strength that surprised even himself, he hoisted her onto the backplate of his armor and began dragging her through the chaos. The trials had left him stronger and refreshed. However every step was a battle against time and the impending artillery fire. He weaved through the bodies and debris, his muscles screaming, but he refused to stop.


    He needed to get over before the battle shifted to the night phase.


    As night completely fell Arthur made it behind base, out of the range of enemy artillery that would be starting in mere moments. He had seen many other soldiers, both enemy and ally dying out. There just wasn''t enough time in the day to save all of them. He just couldn''t.


    Gritting his teeth, he took Officer Mara to the medical tent.


    "MARRSHH", he bellowed as he got close.


    Immediately the dark eyed bow shot out of the tent, his face the picture of relief.


    "Arthur!"


    Then he saw Officer Mara, and his expression became serious. "Bring her inside."


    Nodding, Arthur hoisted Officer Mara onto his shoulders, careful to avoid her injuries as he took her inside the tent.


    The healers were busy with the wounded, but there was a spare bed for Officer Mara. Placing her down. Arthur staggered back, finally relieved. He had done it. He''d saved one more. But the happiness was quickly doused by the images of all he left behind. How many were out there now? Dying in the cold and darkness?


    "Fuck," he muttered, his hands shaking.


    "I have to go back out there," he said aloud, his voice hollow yet resolute.


    Marsh turned to him in alarm. "Arthur, no! That''s suicide! They''ll detect your mana signature and shoot you down!"


    Arthur knew Marsh was right. But how could he stop now?


    Mara''s weak voice broke through his thoughts. "Take my necklace," she rasped.


    Arthur blinked. "What?"


    "It¡­ suppresses mana signatures," she explained, her voice barely audible. "Take it. You''ll need it."


    Without hesitation, Arthur took the necklace¡ªa silver chain with a ruby pendant¡ªand slipped it over his neck.


    "Thank you, Officer," he said softly.


    Mara smiled faintly. "No¡­ Thank you, Arthur. You''re¡­ a kind boy."


    Arthur''s chest tightened at her words, but he didn''t respond. He turned and stepped back into the night, the necklace cool against his skin.


    The battlefield stretched before him, vast and merciless. The cries of the wounded and dying pierced the air, mingling with the distant rumble of artillery.


    The night was a void, a predator waiting to devour him.


    For most soldiers, this was the time to rest, to retreat and recover. For Arthur, the battle had only just begun.


    He stepped forward, disappearing into the darkness, alone¡­

 Chapter 15 - The Saint of War

    Noah returned dirty and muddy from the battle. They had been warring for three weeks now, fighting in a pointless stalemate as each side lost their lives needlessly. Groaning he made his way back to the Unit 7 building, his muscles aching from exhaustion.


    He wasn''t surprised to see that Arthur wasn''t sleeping in his bed. He rarely saw Arthur nowadays, for a couple at hours at most. He wouldn''t even return for rests while in battle. He''d spend the entire time searching for wounded and bringing them back. Most were half-healed already when he dropped them by the medical building.


    Noah knew that Arthur must''ve awakened his trials while out there, he must;ve been gifted some support healing type of ability. Noah saw him sometimes while fighting, and joined him when he did. They fought well together, Arthur''s spear snaking through the gaps in his swordsmanship. But when he returned after the days fighting, Arthur didn''t. He''d stay out there the entire night, then when morning came, he''d bring back all the soldiers he managed to half heal during the night.


    Noah doubted the fallen noble knew just how famous he''d become in the army. They had hated him when he first arrived, so had he. Everyone had hated Arthur, for either being a noble they could do something to, or because he was a criminal. Sometimes both.


    He had hated Arthur also. But¡­even though it pained Noah to admit. He respected Arthur now. Arthur had ignored them when they hated him, working on himself constantly. And now, he was saving them. Most units had at least one soldier that had a story of being dragged to safety by Arthur, his red eyes glinting furiously as he carried them to safety with a furious determination.


    Shaking his head, Noah went to shower, revelling in washing away the mud and ache. Then, after changing out of his armour, he went to sleep.


    But Arthur didn''t¡­


    Scampering, head down, Arthur ran across the battlements, almost running on all fours as he tried to make himself less noticeable. He could faintly hear the moans of a soldier nearby. His muscles strained in exhaustion, and his brain ached from lack of sleep. But he refused to give up. There was always more to save, more to help.


    He reached the soldier, half buried in earth. His arm was missing, and blood gushed from the wound. But that wasn''t what made Arthur pause. It was the fact that the soldier wore white and red. The colours of the rebel forces.


    He had dark eyes and hair, with high cheekbones and sickly pale skin because of the bloodloss.


    "Please, help me," he begged hoarsely as he noticed Arthur.


    Arthur hesitated, but only for a moment. What good were his morals if he was leaving everyone else to die.


    "Look, I''ll help you, but I can''t carry you to safety."


    He took out a small knife. It was made from the shattered remains of his spear. He slit open a cut across his palm, causing a stream of blood to flow out. Then he held it to the soldier''s mouth, "Drink."


    The soldier stared at him as if he had gone mad, but quickly relented, remembering his situation. Then, Arthur tore off a piece of his body suit, wrapping around the man''s stump in order to slow the blood flow while the effects of ''healing blood'' kicked in.


    It took some time, but slowly the healing stopped as the cut turned into a scab. Right now the effects of his blood were too weak to regenerate limbs, but they could close open wounds, while eliminating any infection.


    The soldier stared at him gratefully.


    "T-thank you. I thought I was going to die", he sobbed, tears beginning to stream down his face.


    Arthur stared at him silently. He wasn''t the only rebel that Arthur had saved. Often he found just as much as them as he did allies. However, for the rebels he did request one thing in return.


    "If you move now, my side will shoot you down. Stay here the entire night. In return for this, you have to do something for me."


    The soldier looked at him. After a moment he nodded in acceptance. "What do you want?"


    "Stop fighting. Come tomorrow, if you make it back. Leave the army if you can, or transfer out of active duty. Do anything you can to stop fighting. I don''t want to save you...just to see you here dead the next day."


    The soldier nodded after a moment. "I''ll do what I can"


    "That''s all any of us can ask for."


    Then, taking back the strip of nanosuit, he left the soldier, looking for anyone else he could save. Those that could walk, he would leave them there after ingesting his blood. But those whose injuries were too severe, or couldn''t walk. He would cut a ditch around them. So when morning came, he knew where to find them.


    It was impossible to save everyone, especially at night, where anything with a mana signature that moved would be shot at. Many had injuries too severe for his blood, causing them to die before he could take them to the tent. Their deaths hurt.


    It burned him inside every time he failed, forcing him to seek out someone else he could save. It was the pain that propelled him so strongly..


    And he still did kill.


    But it was only when he had no choice. There were many enemy soldiers that had tried to target him when he transported wounded, and so his hand had been forced. That didn''t happen as much recently, maybe he had just become better at running while dragging an injured soldier with him. Or maybe they ignored him, focusing on more dangerous opponents.


    When morning came, the sun peeking out from the horizon, dispelling the dark, he finally made his move. As the armies charged, he scrambled for the wounded soldiers, hoisting them onto his backplate, as they held onto it frightfully.


    Then grabbing their legs, he would turn away from them, and drag them to the medical building, worming his way through the conflict as best he could.


    It was almost midday when he had decided to take a rest. Stumbling away from a soldiers who''s gash in his stomach Arthur could only partially close, he stumbled his way to the unit 7 building


    "Status" he muttered under his breath. A translucent orange screen appeared in front of him, visible to no one but him.


    NAME: ARTHUR GRAVEWALKER


    AGE: 14 YEARS OLD


    RACE: HUMAN


    CLASS:


    BEGINNER SWORDSMAN LVL1 ¡ª¡ª> BEGINNER SPEARMAN LVL2


    SKILLS :


    MANA BOOST (lvl1)


    AURA : LOCKED


    BLESSINGS:


    Hades Will -


    Sun''s Concept -


    AFFINITIES : BLOOD, FIRE, EARTH


    STATS - RANK F+


    STRENGTH: F+


    AGILITY: F+


    STAMINA: E-


    INTELLIGENCE: F+


    MANA CAPACITY: F


    CHARM : F-


    He had unlocked Mana boost a week ago, and had been using it almost constantly in order to keep his body going for far longer than a human should''ve been able to. Arthur was aware of the dangers of overusing mana boost. but there were just so many he needed to save. And he was only one person.


    "Huh, my charm''s gone up at least," he murmured to himself, rubbing his chin.


    When he entered, he saw Officer Mara in her office. She had sustained fresh injuries a week after being rescued by Arthur. She had managed to return herself that time though. Her injuries had been severe enough that she needed multiple rounds of healing in order to not kill her from the energy drainage.


    He hadn''t seen her since that day he''d saved her. He hadn''t seen anyone really, apart from Noah in the battlefield a couple of times. None of them asked what they did, ''perhaps they already know.''


    Officer Mara''s eyes flicked up when he entered the building. "Ahh, Arthur, come in."


    ''Ahh fuck, just let me sleep man.'' Pushing his frustration to the side, he stumbled into her office, relying on mana boost to keep him standing.


    "I want to let you know, I''ve put in a request for you."


    "Ma''am?" He asked. ''Had he done something wrong?''


    She smiled at his expression. "You''re misunderstanding Arthur. I''ve put in a request to remove that collar around your neck after the battle is over.''


    Arthur looked stunned. "Y-you mean -"


    "Yes, if all goes well you shouldn''t have the threat of an electric collar around your neck for much longer. I''m not sure if it''ll mean you''ll be a free man though Arthur. That''s up to them to decide."


    Arthur nodded, trying to keep his hopes down. He doubted they would actually give him freedom. It was more like they trusted him without a leash. And why wouldn''t they? He''d been saving them all night and day, like a good, loyal dog.


    The feeling left a bitter taste in his mouth. Wasn''t he just being a good dog? Should he just stop? But no, he knew already that there was no way he was going to stop saving them.


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    ''Keep calm. Remember the plan. Two years. That''s all you need to wait. Two years.''


    "And the battle," Officer Mara continued, unaware of Arthur''s inner conflict, "shouldn''t last much longer."


    "Ma''am? I was under the impression we are in a stalemate."


    Officer Mara smiled, "Yes, we are. But the King''s council gave permission for General Thanasons army to arrive as reinforcements in order to crush the rebellion."


    ''General Thanason huh. So I''ll be seeing him again.'' Arthur''s mind flashed back to the beating he took in the prison cell. The feeling of the metal rod striking him again and again, and again.


    "What are you going to do now Arthur?"


    Coming out of his thoughts, he smiled tiredly as Officer Mara. "Shower, then sleep."


    She nodded curtly, "You''re dismissed then."


    Officer Mara watched Arthur go with a tinge of sadness. She could no longer think of him as a noble. Nor could she really think of him as a criminal. No, in the time he''d been here, the boy had undergone a dramatic change. No, that wasn''t right. Arthur had been different from the very first day he''d arrived. Not resembling the disgusting brat that she had heard rumours of. She couldn''t forget that time when he had saved her. How his pale face had appeared when despair was about to overwhelm her. As he tore away the corpses he had hidden her in and dragged her to safety.


    That action alone had made her rethink her opinion on Arthur. However, when he left right after saving her, refusing to stop. Well that had confirmed her new opinion of him. Deep down, Arthur was a good person.


    Arthur walked to his room, exhausted. After showering and changing, he fell asleep. He only planned to sleep for a couple of hours, but the toll he had forced his body through those past few weeks finally caught up to him.


    .


    .


    .


    .


    .


    When Arthur opened his eyes, it was night time. He could see the soft silvery glow of moonlight cascade down the window, an iridescent waterfall of serenity.


    "SHIT", he yelped, clambering to his feet.


    ''He had overslept, he had meant to only sleep for an hour or two. Not the whole damn day!''


    Running, he tried to find his armour. "I''m sure I left it right here" he murmured. But no. His armour was nowhere to be seen.


    ''Fuck it. I''ll just go without armour.''


    He turned away to leave. But to his surprise there was someone at the door. It was one of the squad members of unit 7. He was short for a man, but still taller than Arthur. With dark curly hair and round dark eyes set upon a round face that was slightly tanned.


    ''I think his name was Mat.''


    Arthur tried to get past him, but Mat shoved him backwards, refusing to let Arthur past.


    "Get out of my way", Arthur snarled. He had no love for the soldier''s of unit 7. He didn''t like any of the soldiers in the army, he just saved them.


    Matrim shook his head. "Felt said you''re not to leave."


    "What?" Arthur replied incredulously.


    He turned to see that the rest of what was left of Unit 7 was standing up now. All of them were awake, probably about to go to sleep after washing off the day''s dirt. Felt stood with them, observing Arthur almost cautiously.


    "Felt" Arthur snapped, feeling his panic rise as he imagined how many people were dying out there as he was delayed.


    "Can''t let you leave Arthur. You need to rest."


    "I''ve just fucking woken up!"


    "Yeah, and look at you. You still look like you''re gonna faint from exhaustion."


    Arthur dropped his gaze for a moment. His body was tired, exhausted really. He had been forcing it to keep going by overusing mana boost for weeks endlessly.


    "I''m fine", Arthur snapped, as he activated mana boost. Instantly strength filled his muscles and he became more alert. Then standing up straighter, he looked Felt dead in the eye. "I''m fine. And since when do you care about my safety?"


    Arthur relished how his words seemed to sting, causing everyone to flinch slightly. Felt sighed heavily. "We were wrong about you Arthur, fine. Is that what you want to hear? I''m sorry. Now, go to bed."


    Arthur laughed. It was an insidious sound. "You think I give a fuck about your apology. I told you I''m fine. Look. Now. Let. Me. Go."


    Felt turned to look at a blonde haired man with dark eyes and a menacing build. "Petro?" Felt asked.


    The large blonde haired man turned to face Arthur. Then he nodded to Felt. "Yeah, he''s using it."


    Felt nodded, "I thought he must be."


    Arthur turned to face the larger man, his anger rising. "What do you mean I''m using."


    "It means", a new voice called. "You''ve been using mana boost to keep yourself going." Arthur turned to face Noah, his green eyes studying Arthur.


    "Petro has got a skill sense ability."


    Arthur turned to Felt, defiantly. "So what if I am. There''s nothing wrong with that."


    Felt smiled. "No there isn''t. But you''ve been using it constantly, haven''t you?" He started walking closer to Arthur.


    "Officer Mara told me that you spoke to a rebel. The next day after that conversation you decide to start saving people. Coincidence? You''ve been using mana boost constantly, and don''t try to deny it. You''ve been pushing yourself to death every day trying to save as much as, putting your own life at risk. Did you think we didn''t notice? You think we haven''t been keeping an eye on you? Well we have, all of us."


    He stood right in front of Arhur now, looking down at him sadly. "What you''re doing, it''s not being a hero. It''s called a guilty conscience Arthur."


    Arthur looked back up at him, trying to hold back his tears. "So what if it is. A guilty conscience doesn''t make it wrong."


    "No", Felt replied. "But it does when you''re not looking after yourself. The rate you''re going, you''re going to die."


    Arthur dropped his gaze. Images of Sera''s lifeless body flashing through his mind. Images of countless other soldiers dying in his hands as he failed. As he always failed.


    Before he knew it, tears were falling down his face, splashing onto the floor. "I need to save them," he whispered hoarsely.


    He felt arm''s wrapping around him, bringing him in tight for a hug. "And you can¡­but don''t kill yourself for them."


    Arthur hugged Felt back, finally allowing the built up grief and tension to flow away from him through his tears. He remembered his family as Reshi. Mary. Sera, and countless others. How many had he failed now?


    When he stepped back, he looked at what was left of Unit 7. There used to be ten of them not including him and Noah. Now only five remained. They all looked at Arthur, and he noticed for the first time. Their eyes weren''t filled with outrage, or hatred, or disgust. But with sadness, shame, and respect. How long had they looked at him like that?


    "Sorry", he stammered.


    Mat laughed, "Don''t worry about it. You should''ve seen the way Caster cried after his first battle."


    Everyone erupted into laughter.


    Caster, an average sized man with dark hair and fierce orange eyes glared at Mat. "I didn''t-"


    "Oh shut up Cas", Petro interrupted. "I was awake when Felt had to comfort you on that night. You were literally bawling your eyes out for your mommy."


    Again, everyone broke into laughter, Arthur and Noah joining in this time.


    He made eye contact with Noah momentarily. Noah nodded at him, his green eyes meeting Arthur''s, not with livid rage, but with a calm respect.


    Arthur nodded back. That''s all that was needed.


    Smiling he felt a soft warmness in his chest as he climbed back into bed, deactivating his mana boost skill. It still hurt him to leave them out there to die. But he could do more in the long term than he ever could wearing himself out like he had been. He understood that now.


    So Arthur closed his eyes, his mouth twisted in a soft, almost smile.


    Everyone in the Unit 7 building finally breathed a sigh of relief as they heard Arthur''s heavy soft breathing.


    "He''s asleep", Noah called out.


    "That was easier than I expected," Petro remarked. Everyone else nodded in agreement.


    Felt sighed sadly. "He''s a kid. It ain''t right for him to be here. Or you Noah."


    Noah snorted, "I didn''t want to be here. I was made to."


    Mat nodded, unusually solemn. "Do you hate him for it?"


    Noah turned to face the sleeping Arthur, noticing the half smile on the noble''s face.


    "I used to," he muttered quietly. "Not anymore though."

 Chapter 16 - Dog or Wolf?

    Arthur lined up with the other members of Unit 7, his spear gripped tightly in both hands. This was the first time in three weeks he was joining them for battle, and yet, despite the weight of the weapon in his hands, his goal wasn''t destruction¡ªit was salvation. His crimson eyes scanned the horizon, reflexively looking for the MageKnight that had almost killed him twice now. The memory of the power haunted him now, that sadistic smile plaguing his dreams.


    "MAAARRRCH!" the new commander bellowed, his voice slicing through the noise of restless soldiers.


    He had been promoted after Sera''s arrow felled the last one in a battle. ''Sera.'' That still left a bitter taste in his mouth.


    Arthur moved in formation with Unit 7, advancing in sync with his comrades toward the rebel forces.


    Then, after a moment of tense silence, the command came like thunder: "CHAAARRRGE!!"


    The battlefield erupted as the two armies surged into each other like opposing waves. Shouts and screams filled the air, accompanied by the harsh clash of metal against metal. Arthur''s spear spun deftly in his hands as he fought with lethal precision.


    Around him, chaos reigned, but he moved with purpose. His instincts had been honed through countless skirmishes, and at his back, Noah stood like a silent sentinel, complementing Arthur''s movements. Together, they formed an almost unbreakable machine of whirling death.


    Arthur felt great. Powerful.


    The spear moved in his hands like an extension of himself, cutting through enemy defenses with ease. Ever since his awakening, his strength had increased dramatically, better than most soldiers¡ªbut far from that of a MageKnight. He lacked any training or skill in his elemental affinities, having devoted all his time to healing and fighting with the spear. He planned to learn offensive magic when he had time, after the battle.


    When three soldiers broke off from the enemy ranks and advanced on him, Arthur didn''t flinch. Not long ago, this would have been a death sentence. But now?


    "Mana Boost," he whispered, his voice almost swallowed by the din of battle.


    The familiar rush of energy surged through him, fusing mana into his muscles and bones. He darted forward, refusing to let his opponents strike first. In an instant, his spear found its mark, plunging into the throat of the middle soldier before he could even raise his blade. The two remaining soldiers reacted with sharp precision, their spears thrusting toward him from either side. But Arthur was already moving, keeping his momentum as he rolled forward, pulling his weapon free as the corpse fell to the ground.


    He pivoted sharply, launching into a barrage of precise thrusts and slashes. One soldier fell back under the relentless assault, his defenses crumbling. The other sought to attack from behind, but his spear was parried cleanly by Noah''s sword.


    They fought like this for hours until the horn sounded for them to retreat temporarily.


    Arthur and Noah trudged back together, battered but alive.


    "Hahh, it doesn''t get easier, man," Arthur panted, collapsing onto a patch of grass.


    "Tell me about it," Noah replied, leaning back against his sword, equally exhausted. He had always been stronger than Arthur, but as the battles wore on, he wasn''t so sure his endurance could keep up anymore.


    "You gonna start healing now?"


    Arthur nodded. "Yeah, but I''ll need you covering my back. The fighting''s been fiercer than usual today."


    Noah grunted in agreement, but his tone softened. "Alright."


    As they caught their breath, Arthur turned to Noah. "Hey, Noah?"


    "Yeah?"


    "Who''s this ''Saint of War'' everyone keeps talking about?"


    Noah gave him a blank look before chuckling. "Why? Think we''ve got a saint on our side?"


    Arthur shrugged. "I''ve heard the soldiers mention him. Thought maybe he''s real."


    Noah laughed harder this time. "Nah. He''s no saint, just someone who knows healing magic."


    Arthur sighed heavily. It would''ve been nice to have a true saint on their side, especially after hearing Marsh''s ominous tales of the Dark Saint.


    "Come on," he groaned, standing up. "Let''s get back to it."


    Back on the battlefield, Arthur moved like a ghost among the chaos, dragging wounded soldiers to safety on his Aresium plates while Noah stood guard. He''d noticed something strange, though¡ªsome rebel soldiers actively avoided him. When they spotted him, they turned away, finding a different enemy.


    ''Am I going crazy? Why would they avoid me?''


    Shaking his head, Arthur focused on the task at hand. He delivered the injured to Marsh, feeding them his blood to stabilize their wounds.


    "If only this damn blood worked on me," Arthur muttered bitterly, stepping back into the fray with Noah at his side.


    Then he heard it.


    A rumble.


    In the distance, a storm of dust and noise approached faster than any army had a right to move. Reinforcements.


    The soldiers around him noticed too, their spirits lifting with renewed vigor. Arthur felt his heart race, both with hope and apprehension. General Thanason''s forces had finally arrived, elite soldiers, trained and disciplined.


    "About fucking time," Noah spat. Arthur understood his frustration. How many comrades had they lost waiting for reinforcements that should''ve come weeks ago? The arrival of General Thanason meant the King''s council had finally accepted the rebellion as a real problem. If only they had done that earlier.


    Arthur jogged forward, searching for survivors. He knelt beside a groaning soldier, a rebel.


    "Arthur, wait!" Noah''s voice was sharp, but Arthur ignored him.


    Kneeling, he reopened the cut on his palm and held it to the man''s mouth. Before the soldier could drink,


    Noah grabbed Arthur''s hand.


    "What are you doing?" Noah hissed. "He''s a rebel!"


    Arthur''s scarlet eyes burned as he met Noah''s gaze. "You of all people want me to give preferential treatment?"


    Noah hesitated but scowled. "If you save him, more of our soldiers will die! Don''t you get that?"


    Arthur sighed. "Most of these people don''t want to be here, Noah. They''re just pawns, same as us. I make them all promise the same thing¡ªthat they''ll stop fighting."


    "And you believe them?" Noah''s voice was incredulous.


    Arthur shrugged. "If they don''t keep their promise, that''s on them. I''ll still do my part. Do you think I should just let people die?"


    Noah said nothing, his hand falling away.


    Arthur turned back to the soldier. "If I save you, will you stop fighting?"


    The man''s eyes widened, his voice trembling. "I¡­ I promise."


    "Then drink," Arthur said, pressing his palm to the soldier''s mouth.


    /////////////////


    Arthur didn''t see the comet coming.


    By the time he felt the heat, it was too late. He turned to see the flaming projectile ripping toward him, and his body froze.


    ''Not again,'' he thought, a strange calm washing over him. He closed his eyes. ''I won''t die scared.''


    A sudden force tackled him to the ground. Arthur''s head struck a rock, and the world went black.


    When he woke, hours had passed. Groaning, Arthur pushed himself upright, dislodging a heavy weight from his chest. The ground around him was obliterated. He turned to see what¡ªor who¡ªhad saved him.


    This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.His stomach dropped.


    "Skelter¡­" Arthur whispered, staring at the broken body of the man who had shielded him.


    ////////////////////////


    James Skelter had carried out orders that most soldiers wouldn''t dare to stomach.


    It was why they called him ''The Dog of the Army''. He wasn''t ashamed of that title. That''s who he was. The kind of man no one liked, but everyone needed. Loyal, unflinching and brutally efficient. That loyalty had served him well. It had won him battles, promotion, and the support of powerful men.


    But it had also cost him countless nights of sleep. He had killed those who begged for mercy. Set fire to enemy villages, their screams forever disturbing his pace. He''d led his own men into ambushes knowing that most of them wouldn''t make it back. Each time he had buried his doubts within his conscience, under layers of propaganda and justification.


    ''For the Empire. For my family. For the Greater good. For survival.'' How many times had he said that to himself now? And now he had been ordered, indirectly true, to batter a noble brat. Where was the greater good in this? How would the Empire benefit? There was nothing strategic, or necessary. It was just cruelty, for cruelty''s sake. And that¡­that stuck in Skelter''s throat like a shard of glass.


    When Arthur Gravewalker had first arrived, Skelter hated him. He convinced himself that he hated him. The boy''s very demeanour marked him as noble, and he used his hatred of them to quiet his conscience. Spoilt. Entitled. Cowardly. He had whispered those words to himself like a mantra, as he beat Arthur unflinchingly.


    He needed Arthur to fit his description. He needed it.


    So he made a habit of watching Arthur, taking pleasure in his every shortcoming. The boy had little talent for the sword, it was pathetic really. But to Skelter''s dismay, Arthur pushed through. Training further when he thought no one was noticing. Always fighting for survival. He silently withstood the hatred of the army, of his peers. Even his bunk mate had tried to beat him in his sleep.


    Even worse, Arthur didn''t react the way he was supposed to. There was no begging, no entitlement, no spoiled demands for better treatment. When Arthur had dragged himself out of the mud on that third day of battle, after being thought dead the entire night, Skelter felt his heart sink. The boy''s eyes were firm, and strong. Unbroken by war.


    It wasn''t defiance exactly. It wasn''t pride either. It was the kind of resolve that came from someone who had already survived worse than Skelter''s fists could ever have done. And something about that look unsettled him in a way he couldn''t explain.


    Skelter tried to convince himself it was a fluke. Arthur was still a lordling, after all, and it was only a matter of time before the boy''s true colors showed. So he started watching him, waiting for that moment when Arthur would fail.


    At first, Skelter focused on Arthur''s weaknesses: the boy was soft. He could see the hesitation in his blows, the way he flinched each time he killed. Even after the first couple of days of war, Arthur struggled. He wasn''t a natural killer. His spear strikes were hesitant, his movements too defensive. Skelter thought this might finally be the boy''s downfall. But no. Instead Arthur had done something even worse.


    He started saving people.


    At first, it seemed like madness. Skelter heard whispers of a soldier dragging the wounded from the battlefield during the chaos of battle. A soldier with hair like pure snow, and eyes like crystal blood. ''It couldn''t have been'' he had thought to himself. So he ignored the stories, believing it to be just rumour.


    But as the weeks passed, the stories became impossible to ignore.


    So Skelter then decided to check himself. He saw Arthur saving his comrades, the very same people who had spat at his feet days before. And now, Arthur would drag them back with an almost terrifying will. He would help them with that strange blood of his, and drag them to safety.


    Then Skelter had noticed Arthur had been disappearing into the night. ''Finally!'' He had thought. ''This was something abnormal. Perhaps he was secretly selling army secrets, or informing them of their base layout.''


    But again, Skelter had been proved wrong. Because Arthur''s deeds wouldn''t stay quiet. His own soldiers in his unit had told him how Arthur had appeared out of the night, like a mythical saint and had hid and healed them. Then when morning came, he had dragged them to safety. His own men now praised Arthur in his building.


    So to his surprise, he had found himself avoiding Arthur. Finding any reason to be busy when the boy was near, any reason not to face the scarlet eyes again. He had even stayed away form his building, not wanting to hear his soldiers speak about the boy.


    But even Officer Mara, his once ally in the hate against the nobility, now spoke of Arthur with a tone of respect. Almost reverence. Reverence!


    As the days passed, the more impossible it became for Skelter to reconcile with his conscience. Because Arthur wasn''t anything like what he was supposed to be like. What he needed him to be like.


    But the truth was unavoidable. Arthur Gravewalker wasn''t weak. He wasn''t a coward. And he was far better a man than most soldiers Skelter had fought beside. Definitely a far better man than him.


    That was why, when Skelter saw the burning comet hurtling toward Arthur, he didn''t think. He didn''t weigh his options or consider the consequences. He just moved.


    His legs burned with the effort as he sprinted across the battlefield, dodging through chaos . He saw Arthur turn toward the blazing fireball, the boy''s scarlet eyes wide with shock. There was no time to yell, no time to warn him.


    Skelter slammed into Arthur, knocking him to the ground just before the comet struck. Pain exploded through his body as the blast tore through him, ripping apart flesh and bone. The agony was unbearable, but it didn''t matter.


    As darkness crept into the edges of his vision, Skelter looked down at the unconscious boy beneath him.


    "We''re even now, Lordling," he whispered, the faintest flicker of a smile tugging at his lips.


    And for the first time in years, when James Skelter closed his eyes. His conscience was clear.


    /////////////////////////////


    Arthur stared down at Skelter''s lifeless body, confusion and guilt churning in his gut.


    ''Why? Why would he save me?No! Think about this later, there''s a war.''


    Burying his thoughts and troubled emotions, Arthur turned to assess the war.


    Unseen by him, a thread of black mana slithered from Skelter''s corpse, binding itself to him.


    The rebel''s were wilting under the added power of the reinforcements, the stalemate was finally over. The rebel''s forces were under a¡­slow retreat?


    Arthur''s gaze turned toward the commanders'' tent, where General Thanason overlooked the battlefield. The rebels'' retreat felt¡­ deliberate.


    ''Why?''


    Then it hit him¡ªthe fireball. The reinforcements.


    "Shit."

 Chapter 17 - A battle of ice and fire

    Sarkar cackled inwardly, slipping unseen through the chaos of the battlefield. Raleigh''s blessing rendered him a phantom, untouchable and invisible among the throngs of enemy soldiers. The Empire''s forces surged around him, completely unaware of the deadly predator in their midst. Each step Sarkar took carried him closer to his target, a living specter moving through the heart of the chaos, driven by ambition and bloodlust.


    But his mind kept wandering.


    ''The boy with white hair¡ªalive. Again.How?''


    Sarkar was certain he had killed him. His blade had pierced the boy clean through, a fatal blow no one could survive. And yet, he''d seen the boy earlier, walking and breathing as though untouched by death. The memory gnawed at him.


    "Maybe a revival skill?" he muttered under his breath. But the thought didn''t sit right. No, it was something else. Something far darker.


    The Devil of Peace.


    The stories had reached even him. Whispers of a ghost-like figure with silver hair and eyes like pools of blood, haunting battlefields and offering salvation to the dying. But at a cost.


    The Devil''s "peace," they said, wasn''t without consequence. Those who accepted the pact survived their mortal wounds, but they were stripped of their will to fight, doomed to a lifetime of pacifism. Soldiers returned alive but broken, their fire extinguished. They refused to fight, even on pain of death. Raleigh was forced to lock them up in a temporary dungeon until the Devil''s influence faded.


    Sarkar had laughed at the tales, dismissing them as drunken fantasies. But now, with the boy alive and unscathed, his laughter was gone.


    Earlier, when he''d seen the rat, instinct had taken over. He''d unleashed a comet of searing flame, reducing the area around the boy to ash. No one could have survived the attack, or so he believed. Satisfied, he had moved on, focusing on the true prize.


    Today, he would kill someone worthy.


    The commander''s orders echoed in his mind: General Thanason¡ªa name spoken with reverence and fear. If this mission succeeded, the rebellion would crumble, and the Empire''s iron grip would falter.


    Sarkar slipped into the commander''s tent with ease, Raleigh''s blessing ensuring his invisibility. The air inside thrummed with power.


    And there he stood.


    Thanason.


    The general''s dark hair and piercing yellow eyes radiated an aura of unshakable authority. He stood like a statue carved from obsidian, surveying the battlefield with cold calculation.


    Sarkar''s grin faltered. His heart quickened. This man wasn''t mortal. He was a storm incarnate.


    He wasn''t scared, he didn''t feel such weakness. Only exhilaration.


    He tightened his grip on his dagger, his flames roaring in anticipation. One silent step after another, he closed in.


    The dagger fell in a flash of silver.


    //////////////////


    A towering figure carved through the rebel forces like a hurricane. His blade was a symphony of death, each strike precise and devastating. MageKnights fell before him, and soldiers scattered like leaves in the wind.


    He fought alone, an unstoppable force amid the chaos, conserving his mana for the true challenge ahead.


    Being surrounded meant nothing to this man, it only meant death would be dealt at every angle.


    Sarkar''s dagger struck the air. His instincts screamed at him. ''Too easy,'' his mind hissed. ''It was all too easy.''


    Thanason was a renowned general. It couldn''t be this simple.


    Before he could react, a blur of motion tackled the "general" to the ground. Sarkar''s eyes narrowed as he saw his target fall¡ªnot to him, but to a boy.


    A new rat. This one with green eyes.


    The boy''s green eyes burned with fury, his MageKnight sword trembling in his grip. Sarkar''s grin returned, wider and more feral.


    "Another rat, huh?"


    With a flick of his wrist, flames erupted along his blade, the heat warping the air. His invisibility dissipated, revealing his towering, fire-wreathed form.


    The boy froze, disbelief flashing across his face. Sarkar wasted no time, swinging his blade in a vicious arc. The boy barely dodged, his hair singed by the flames. His counterattack was quick and precise, but Sarkar parried with ease.


    "Combustion," Sarkar growled. His body ignited into a scalding red mist as blood evaporated through his skin, his muscles bulging with explosive power.


    The boy leapt back, crying out as the heat seared his skin. Sarkar advanced like a predator, his voice low and menacing.


    "You. Will. Die."


    The fear in the boy''s eyes was intoxicating, fueling Sarkar''s bloodlust. He seized the boy''s face in his armored hand, lifting him effortlessly.


    Noah screamed as the burning blood charred his skin, agony consuming him. For a moment, he wanted to give up. To just let it end.


    But then, an image flashed in his mind.


    Arthur. Covered in blood, dragging a wounded soldier to safety, refusing to fall.


    ''If he can do it, so can I.''


    Something clicked. A blue screen blinked before Noah''s eyes, and a notification filled his vision.


    Blessing of the Sky: (The sky is ever-changing. Prove yourself.)


    Blessing of the Sea: (The ocean is unyielding. Prove yourself.)


    Both conditions fulfilled! Blessings have high affinity. Combine blessings?


    Yes / No


    Noah''s lips trembled. Through the pain, he screamed, "Yes!"


    Power surged through him like an unstoppable tide. Frost rippled across his scorched body, extinguishing the flames. His green eyes bled into an icy blue, a frosty mist spilling from his skin.


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    In his hands, a weapon formed¡ªa blade of frost, sharp and glinting.


    Noah raised the sword, his voice calm, almost casual. "This time, I won''t fall behind."


    Sarkar snarled, his flames battling the icy mist. Their swords clashed again and again, steam hissing with each strike. But Sarkar''s skill was undeniable, and he pushed Noah back with relentless precision.


    Then came the moment. Sarkar''s blade pierced Noah''s side. Blood spilled, pouring out onto the floor.


    Sarkar grinned in triumph. "Finally¡­" He turned to the General, ignoring the feeling of wrongness that had persisted.


    But then, the "general" dissolved into mana, revealing a trembling man of short stature and bright red hair.


    Sarkar turned, realization dawning too late. It had been a trap.


    Behind him, Noah rose, frost covering his healing wounds.


    "Your turn," Noah said, his voice as cold as winter.


    Sarkar roared, lunging with blazing fury. But before he could strike, a spear burst through his chest. It was a black spear, with white runes webbing across it. A truly terrifying relic that thrummed with power.


    Sarkar staggered, blood dripping from the black spear impaled through his heart. His gaze locked onto Noah, whose frost-covered form smiled weakly, then he collapsed on the floor, feeling his lifeblood drain out of him. Frantically, he looked for the owner of that spear.


    He saw a person with silver hair, and eyes the colour of blood, he was holding the spear, and looking down on him with disgust.


    A single thought skittered across Sarkar''s mind as he died. ''You.''


    "Took you long enough, Arthur," Noah rasped.


    Arthur stepped forward, hands still on the spear¡ªAscension, a relic of immense power. He had spent the time Noah had bought him finding it, thankfully its recovery location had been mentioned in the novel after the death of the first commander.


    He grinned, though his body swayed with exhaustion.


    "We did it," Arthur said, relief washing over him.


    As the battle subsided, Arthur and Noah lay side by side on the blood-soaked ground, staring at the darkened sky.


    "So, explain," Noah broke the silence, his voice weak but insistent.


    ///////////////


    Deep underground, Raleigh faced Thanason in the tunnels.


    Darkness and light clashed in a battle of wills and raw power.


    "You were never a true spy, Raleigh," Thanason grunted, his blade of light forcing Raleigh back.


    The spymaster smiled thinly. "No, my old friend. I''ve always been a warrior first."


    With a final surge of darkness, Raleigh struck, enveloping Thanason in a cocoon of shadows. Thanason was trapped. Raleigh was smart. If Thanason broke the shell, he caused the tunnels to collapse, condemning his army above him to oblivion.


    But instead of worrying, he waited patiently. It should''ve happened soon. Then it did, the sphere of darkness crumbling around him, the mana disappearing.


    Thanason stood unharmed, his yellow eyes gleaming. Raleigh collapsed to his knees, drained, his once-sharp features hollow.


    "H-how. Sarkar died? But how?"


    Thanason smiled coldly. He knew Raleigh''s S-Rank skill. ''Spymaster General.'' And he knew its drawbacks, after all, they had grown up together.


    "Any last words Raleigh?," Thanason said softly.


    Raleigh''s voice trembled. "It wasn''t you I feared. I don''t care what anyone says, I never hated the people of Thoracen. But those damn nobles. My daughter... It was my failure."


    Thanason sighed before striking the final blow. "And that failure destroyed you, old friend"


    ////////////////////////


    Arthur sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. "The commander we''re fighting¡ªRaleigh. He was the ex-spymaster of the Thoracen Empire. It was because of him the rebellion became as dangerous as it did. Well, him and a few others."


    Noah listened intently, frowning. "Go on."


    "Raleigh has an S-rank skill called Spymaster General. It lets him grant powerful blessings to anyone who agrees, giving them new abilities. But the skill has a flaw."


    "What kind of flaw?"


    "If someone blessed fails their mission, Raleigh loses his ability to use mana for a week. If we hadn''t interefered the mission would''ve been successful, and Raleigh would''ve retained his power. But because we killed the MageKnight first, the mission registered as a failure, and Raleigh was drained, meaning General Thanason would be able to win the battle between them.


    "But this was an imposter, not General Thanason. Shouldn''t the mission be registered as a failure anyway?"


    Arthur smiled. "That was General Thanason''s plan. But because the blessed MageKnight thought the General overlooking the battle was his target, if he killed him, the mission would''ve been successful, and the General would''ve died, extending this war even longer."


    Noah let the information sink in, then asked softly, "How do you know all this, Arthur?"


    Arthur hesitated, the weight of the question evident in his expression. Finally, he sighed.


    "I''ll tell you, if I have to, but could you not?"


    Noah smiled faintly. "Fine."


    Arthur grinned back. "That easy huh."


    "You saved our lives, I reckon you''re allowed to keep one or two secrets."


    The two lay in silence, exhaustion finally claiming them as the sounds of war faded into the distance.


    Above, the stars began to emerge, their cold light a quiet witness to the battle''s end.

 Chapter 18 - Proving innocence

    Arthur awoke slowly, his body heavy and sluggish, his limbs aching from exhaustion. As his senses returned, he became aware of the cold, uneven earth beneath him. When he opened his eyes, he expected to see the open night sky, speckled with stars, offering its usual quiet solace.


    But of course not. He almost forgot. Life was fucked


    Instead, he was met with something far more foreboding¡ªa towering shadow loomed over him, dark and menacing. Two faint, yellow eyes glittered in the dim light, staring down at him with an intensity that made his stomach drop.


    Those eyes weren''t friendly.


    Before he could fully comprehend what he was seeing, a boot connected with his ribs, sending him skidding across the ground, gasping for air. Pain shot through him as he tried to scramble to his feet, clutching at his side.


    "General Thanason..." Arthur croaked, blinking through the haze of pain.


    The towering figure stepped into the light, revealing the General, fresh from the battlefield. His face was a mixture of fury and disdain, his jaw set like a stone. He sneered, his voice laced with venom.


    "You," he spat. "I should''ve known. Of course you''d run. A coward like you, a criminal who should''ve been dead months ago."


    Arthur''s mind reeled. What was he talking about? He had saved Thanason''s life, hadn''t he? Then it dawned on him. The General didn''t know. He had no idea what Arthur had done in the chaos of the battlefield. To him, Arthur was still the same disgraced noble who had nearly destroyed his life. A man unworthy of trust, let alone redemption.


    Thanason took a menacing step forward, his presence suffocating. "The fact that you''re alive," he growled, his voice trembling with restrained fury, "is already a damn blessing. You, people like you, are the reason this rebellion happened. Privileged nobles who take everything for granted, leaving the rest of us to pick up the pieces."


    Before Arthur could respond, a massive fist collided with his face, snapping his head to the side. The world spun as he fell hard to the ground. A moment later, a steel-tipped boot slammed into his ribs, the crack reverberating through his body. He coughed violently, tasting blood.


    The blows didn''t stop. They came again and again, each one dragging Arthur back to memories he had tried to bury. Memories of cold prison cells, of Thanason kicking him while he was on the floor struggling with a life he had been forced to accept.


    ''I''m not that person anymore,'' he thought, gritting his teeth, the words repeating in his head like a mantra. ''I''m not that person anymore.''


    The next time the General kicked, Arthur caught the leg. His instincts of Reshi flooding back. His body moved on its own, wrapping around the leg into a lock. He heaved. For a moment he thought he had done something as the blows stopped raining down.


    Arthur glared up at Thanason, his chest heaving. ''If I''m going to take this beating, you''re damn well going to feel something too.''


    The General paused, startled by the sudden resistance. His eyes narrowed. Then, without warning, a wave of crushing pressure descended on Arthur. It was overwhelming, like an avalanche bearing down on him. His vision blurred, his ears ringing, and before he could react, his body crumpled to the ground, unconscious.


    Thanason stood over him, his fists clenched. His face twisted in a mix of rage and confusion as he stared down at the boy.


    ''Sleeping on the floor of my base, while my men fought for their lives,'' he thought bitterly. ''He must have lied, cheated, and snuck his way out of the battle.''


    He raised his hand, preparing to deliver a final, crushing blow. But before he could strike, something collided with his side. He turned to see another boy with green eyes standing defiantly, his fists trembling.


    "Hah." Thanason''s lips curled into a cruel smile. "You''re twenty years too young to take me on, boy."


    With a casual flick of his hand, he sent Noah sprawling across the ground. The boy groaned but didn''t stay down. Staggering to his feet, he squared his shoulders, glaring at the General with fierce determination.


    Noah''s heart pounded in his chest, his mind racing. Arthur was unconscious, and the General looked ready to kill him. He couldn''t let that happen. Not after everything Arthur had done for him.


    "System," Noah muttered under his breath, summoning the translucent blue screen displaying his stats.


    NAME: Noah ( )


    AGE: 16 YEARS


    RACE: Human


    CLASS: Beginner Swordsman LVL 3


    SKILLS:


    MANA BOOST (lvl1)


    MANA SURGE (lvl1)


    AURA : LOCKED


    BLESSINGS:


    Blessing of the sky [locked] (former), Blessing of the sea [locked] (former)


    Will of Boreas -


    Stage 1 (Son of ice)


    AFFINITIES : Ice, wind


    STATS -


    RANK F+


    STRENGTH: E-


    AGILITY: F+


    STAMINA: E-


    INTELLIGENCE: F


    MANA CAPACITY: F


    CHARM : F-


    His eyes darted to the skill section.


    WILL OF BOREAS CANNOT BE ACTIVATED DUE TO INSUFFICIENT MANA.


    "Shit," he hissed.


    He was on his own.


    The General''s voice cut through his thoughts. "Why do you protect him?" Thanason asked, his tone sharp but curious. "You''re no noble. You have nothing to gain. And neither is that brat. He can''t threaten you to do his bidding."


    Noah spat on the ground, his green eyes blazing. "Threaten? I''m here because he''s my friend," he said simply. "And because you have no idea what he''s done for you. For all of us."


    Thanason stared at the boy in shock. ''Friend?'' The word echoed in his mind. It made no sense. How could anyone¡ªespecially someone like this¡ªconsider Arthur a friend?


    The General appeared before Noah in an instant, faster than the boy could react. He flicked him on the forehead, hard enough to knock him unconscious. Noah crumpled into his arms.


    Arthur woke with a start, groaning as pain rippled through his battered body. Blinking, he took in his surroundings. Iron bars, cold stone walls.


    He sighed heavily. "A prison cell. Again," he muttered. "Twice in less than four months. Great."


    A voice came from the corner of the cell. "So, you''re finally awake.


    Arthur turned, squinting into the shadows. "Noah?"


    The figure grunted in acknowledgment, still staying in the corner of the room.


    "Why''re you sitting there like some sort of supervillain?"


    Noah hesitated for a second, then slowly got up, walking out of the shadow and into full view.


    His usually handsome face was now marred by a massive, apple-sized lump on his forehead.


    Arthur stared for a moment before bursting into laughter. "You...look...like an idiot!" He doubled over, clutching his ribs.


    Noah glared, crossing his arms. "Next time, I''m leaving you to die."


    Arthur wiped a tear from his eye, grinning. "Sure you are. Now, come here."


    He bit into his thumb, drawing blood, and held it out. Noah recoiled. "If you think I''m sucking your thumb, we''re about to have another fight."


    "Relax," Arthur said, rolling his eyes. "I was planning to pour it in your hands. No need to get all excited.."


    Grumbling, Noah relented. As he touched the blood to his lips, the swelling faded, his cuts vanishing.


    Arthur watched enviously. "Ain''t fair."


    "What isn''t"


    "That I can''t heal myself.


    "You can''t?" Noah asked, surprised.


    Arthur shook his head. "It doesn''t work on me."


    Noah burst out laughing. "You unlucky bastard."


    Arthur scowled, leaning back against the cold wall. "Tell me something I don''t know


    So what happens now, Arthur?" Noah asked, his voice trembling with a hint of fear.


    Arthur let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through his hair, his eyes scanning the dimly lit cell.


    "Well, since we''re alive we must be on trial. . . Let me do the talking. I''ll get at least you out of this mess."


    Noah nodded silently, a wave of unease washing over him. After a beat, he hesitated, his voice quieter than before. "Why does he hate you?"


    Arthur''s gaze darkened, and he shook his head, a small, almost regretful smile forming on his lips. "If I told you, you''d hate me too."


    "Is that why you''re not going to tell me?" Noah asked, frowning.


    "Partly," Arthur replied, his voice thick with unspoken emotion. "Partly because I feel ashamed of it. Partly because I want to move on, and¡­ partly because I''m not even sure anymore."


    A silence fell between them as Noah looked at him, sensing the weight of something unsaid. Arthur''s thoughts drifted, his mind swirling around the memories of his past¡ªthe things he''d done, the person he''d been. And then there were those fragmented memories of that night. The more he tried to recall, the more elusive they became, slipping through his grasp like smoke. He had always thought it was due to the alcohol and the drugs, but now¡­ now, he wasn''t so sure. What if the truth had been buried deeper? What if he had forced himself to forget?


    Or perhaps he wanted there to be something else, so he could finally be rid of this burden.


    Noah broke the silence with a nervous laugh. "So, there was a time when you were a complete prick, huh?"


    Arthur gave a wistful smile. "Oh, yes. A real piece of work."


    An hour passed, the two of them locked in an uncomfortable quiet, the only sound the


    This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.distant murmurs of the base. Then, suddenly, the door to the cell swung open with a creak, and a soldier stepped in¡ªa tall, lanky figure with the pale complexion of someone who''d spent too much time indoors. His dark eyes flicked to them as he barked, "Get up."


    Noah flinched, but Arthur stood without hesitation, and they both followed the soldier in silence, each step echoing on the stone floor. The soldier didn''t bother to cuff them. After all, their collars were a constant reminder: they were prisoners, not soldiers.


    They were led through the cold, dimly lit halls of the base, the air thick with the scent of old stone and damp. It wasn''t long before they arrived at a newly constructed building, standing out against the worn structures, as if it had been built by magic.


    But then again, it probably had.


    Inside, the room was vast, the walls lined with dark, imposing banners. Arthur''s mind briefly flickered back to the grand courtrooms of his old manor, but this was different. Here, there were no noble faces, no velvet curtains. Instead, soldiers stood at attention, their stern expressions as cold as the stone beneath their boots.


    The rebel soldiers stood on one side¡ªdressed in the white and red of their faction, their faces solemn, their eyes distant. The Thoracen Empire soldiers stood on the other, clad in black armor, their eyes sharp and unyielding.


    Noah and Arthur were ushered into the center of the room, the weight of the gazes upon them pressing down like an invisible force. At the far end of the room stood General Thanason, his face a mask of stoic indifference.


    "Today," Thanason''s voice rang out, deep and commanding, "we are to discuss the crimes of the imprisoned rebels and two soldiers of our own army. We''ll begin with the rebels."


    A single rebel soldier rose from the crowd, his eyes meeting Arthur''s for a brief moment before he turned his gaze to the general.


    "What''s your name, soldier?" Thanason asked, his tone clipped.


    "Derrin, sir."


    "Derrin, tell me¡ªwhy were you rebel soldiers imprisoned in your own base''s dungeons?"


    Derrin''s eyes darkened as he spoke, his voice tinged with reverence. "It''s because of the Devil of Peace, sir."


    Thanason blinked, momentarily thrown off balance. "Who?"


    Derrin smiled, but it was a bitter, grim smile. "He''s one of you, sir. A soldier of the Thoracen Empire. He saved our lives on the battlefield, and in return, we agreed to stop fighting. But they didn''t see it that way. They locked us up, believing we had been corrupted."


    Thanason''s gaze narrowed. "One of ours healed you, and in return, you refused to fight? Are you telling me you... idolized him?"


    Derrin nodded, his voice softer now. "Imagine it, sir. You''re lying in the dirt, bleeding out with no one around. The world is slipping away, your breath is short, and all you hear is the gnawing of maggots on the bodies of the fallen. And then, out of nowhere, this figure¡ªthis boy¡ªappears. An enemy, and now you feel as though all is lost.


    But instead he offers you a chance to live. One chance. That was all. And all he asked in return was that we didn''t fight again, so he wouldn''t have to see us dead."


    His words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. "It felt like a miracle. Like we were touched by something greater than ourselves. How could we fight after that? How could we return to the battlefield after a gift like that? After we had a second chance at life."


    General Thanason''s brow furrowed as he processed the story, his voice hard. "Do you know who this Devil of Peace is? Do you see him now?"


    Derrin didn''t hesitate, pointing directly at Arthur. "Yes, sir. He''s right there."


    Arthur''s heart skipped a beat. The Devil of Peace? Him? The name felt strange, too overblown for what he''d done. Was that what they had started calling him? How cringy.


    Thanason''s yellow eyes fixed on Arthur, the weight of his gaze almost suffocating. For a moment, Arthur felt like a bug under a magnifying glass¡ªexposed, vulnerable.


    "Very well," Thanason said, his voice even. "I''ll make a decision about you later. But now, let''s move on to the next issue." He turned his focus toward Arthur, his gaze hardening. "Criminal Arthur, you are accused of cowardice, of refusing to fight, and now of aiding the enemy. What do you say in your defense?"


    Arthur''s pulse quickened, but he stepped forward, his voice steady. "Not guilty, General."


    Thanason nodded, clearly expecting that answer. "Let''s begin with your... ''healing'' the soldiers. You say you have a unique ability?"


    Arthur took a breath, willing himself to remain calm. "I''ve developed a skill, sir. When I awakened on the battlefield, I discovered my blood possesses healing properties. It allows others to regenerate temporarily. I used it to save as many as I could¡ªboth my men and the rebels. But the truth is, I didn''t do it for any reason other than I didn''t want good people to die for no reason."


    The general''s face remained unreadable. "Are you saying you''re blessed by Asclepius, the


    god of healing?"


    Arthur shook his head. "No, sir. I''m not blessed by Asclepius."


    "Then who?" Thanason''s voice was sharp, the room hanging on his every word.


    Arthur paused for a beat, then lifted his head, meeting the general''s eyes with a steady gaze. "Hades, sir."


    The silence was immediate and absolute. The room seemed to hold its breath, and the eyes of everyone in the hall locked onto Arthur. Thanason stood motionless, his eyes


    narrowing in suspicion. A hushed murmur rippled through the audience.


    "Prove it," Thanason said after a long pause, his voice tinged with disbelief.


    Arthur smiled, a quiet challenge in his expression. "I can''t. But I think you should be able to prove it for me."


    Thanason regarded him for a long moment, his expression unreadable. "If what you''re saying is true, then you''re claiming to be a Saint candidate? Is that why you saved them?"


    Arthur''s laugh was short, almost rueful. "I don''t even know what a Saint is. No, I didn''t save them for any ulterior motive. I just wanted to help. And I saved you as well, General."


    Thanason raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "Me? How did you save me?"


    Arthur took a step closer, his voice confident. "Your plan to confront Raleigh. It would have failed without my intervention. You didn''t comprehend Raleigh''s abilities."


    The general''s eyes flicked to Noah, who shifted uncomfortably under the spotlight.


    "If it wasn''t for Noah, you would''ve paid the price for that" Arthur added, pointing at him.


    Noah gulped, feeling every eye in the room turn to him.


    Arthur continued, "Raleigh''s ability¡ªit works in a specific way. If your decoy had been killed, Raleigh would''ve thought the mission was a success. After all, the mission was to eliminate the general overseeing the battlefield. But that wasn''t you. You weren''t there to be killed. You went to confront him yourself. You had relinquished your role to your decoy. So when you fought Raleigh, the penalty wouldn''t have triggered. Without the penalty, you would''ve died fighting him in those tunnels."


    A collective gasp spread through the room, the soldiers'' expressions a mixture of shock and awe. Thanason stared at Arthur, his face unreadable.


    Finally, he spoke, his voice low and cautious. "How did you know all this? About Raleigh? About the plan?"


    Arthur''s gaze hardened. "Hades told me. As a gift. He showed me the future." It was the best lie he''d come up with. After all, once they verified he was indeed blessed by Hades, they''d assume him to be telling the truth.


    The general snorted in disbelief. "Hades? The god of the underworld told you how to save people?"


    Arthur didn''t flinch, keeping his voice steady. "Yes. As a gift."


    Thanason''s eyes narrowed, a flicker of skepticism crossing his face. "So it all comes down to whether or not you really have the blessing of Hades?"


    Arthur''s smile was small but confident. "I guess it does."


    Without another word, Thanason stepped forward, his large hand reaching for Arthur''s head. As his fingers made contact, a surge of golden energy erupted from Thanason''s palm, enveloping Arthur in a blinding light. Arthur''s body tensed as the pain hit¡ªhis chest constricted, his head pounded, his lungs burned. The energy felt like it was tearing him apart, ripping through his very soul.


    Then, with a jolt, the pain ceased.


    Arthur gasped for air, collapsing to the floor, his body trembling. Thanason stepped back, his expression one of astonishment.


    "It''s true," Thanason said quietly. "You do bear the mark of Hades."


    A quiet murmur rippled through the room. Arthur lay on the floor, his breath shallow, his mind racing. Thanason turned slowly, his gaze sweeping over the soldiers from the Thoracen Empire. These were the same men Arthur had saved¡ªmen who had been given a second chance because of his actions. They had come here, standing opposite the rebels in order to protest his guilt. They also had a name for him. The Saint of War.


    The General''s thoughts echoed in his mind: The Saint of War. The Devil of Peace. A blessed of Hades¡­


    And for the first time, Thanason wondered what had happened to the boy who had once seemed weak and fragile. What had changed him in such a short time?

 Chapter 19 - The weight of change

    Arthur and Noah walked side by side into the stillness of the night. The air was crisp, carrying the faint, metallic scent of battle.


    A heavy moon hung low over the camp, its pale light reflecting off the remnants of war¡ªsplintered wood, shattered weapons, and the occasional dark stain on the dirt. For the first time in what felt like years, there was no immediate threat of violence looming over them.


    The night was peaceful, the wind calm as its gentle whistle mixed with the gentle thrum of men talking. A sound much better than one of artillery fire and haunting screams.


    Yet, the weight in their chests refused to lift.


    Arthur adjusted the collar of his uniform, the faint redness on his neck a reminder of the prison collar that had only recently been removed. He ran his fingers over the spot absentmindedly, his thoughts distant.


    For all this bluster of his collar being removed, he knew the truth. He was still a slave here. A criminal, just now with a different leash.


    "So... you''re really blessed by Hades, huh?" Noah''s voice broke the silence, his tone light but carrying an edge of unease.


    Arthur glanced at him, startled by the question. The way Noah''s words hung in the air made them feel heavier than they should have.


    "Apparently," Arthur replied after a pause, his lips quivering into a faint smile. "What about you? Aren''t you blessed by Poseidon?"


    Noah snorted, the sound harsh and humorless. "No."


    Arthur stopped in his tracks, his brow furrowing. "Wait¡­ what? What do you mean ''no''? That''s not¡ª" He cut himself off, realizing how ridiculous it would sound to say, ''That''s not how it''s supposed to be.''


    Noah turned to face him, his expression unreadable in the dim light. "I''m blessed by Boreas," he said in a tone that sounded as if he was talking about the weather.


    Arthur blinked, his mind racing. ''Boreas? That didn''t make sense. Noah was supposed to be a Blessed of Poseidon¡ªat least, that''s how it had been in the novels. Boreas''s blessing wasn''t even supposed to be in the novel. No one had discovered what attracted the God of the North wind.'' There was only one thing he thought of that could''ve caused this change. ''Me.''


    "Boreas?" Arthur repeated, his voice tinged with disbelief. "What''s your affinity then?"


    Noah shrugged, his expression bored. "Water, air, and ice."


    ''Three huh. He still has the water affinity. But in the novel he never had air, or ice. A stage 1 ice user.'' Being a Stage 1 user of a higher element. No doubt Noah was going to become much stronger in the future then he would''ve been.


    From what he remembered Elemental affinities were split into stages. The first stage gave the most broadest affinity, while each stage higher would lose its range and become vastly more powerful in return. If someone was to have a stage 1 affinity with fire, it could evolve into light, or heat in it''s stage 2 affinity. While a stage 2 affinity was stronger that its stage 1 counterpart, there was less freedom in its use.


    It was why having an element usually found in Stage 2 like Ice as a Stage 1 element was also another great bonus to being blessed by a deity.


    "Sounds powerful" Arthur remarked after a while.


    In truth he felt slightly awkward around Noah. Out of nowhere they had become close. Noah had saved his ass more times then he could count now, but he really only ever spoke with him during life threatening situations.


    It sounded stupid, but now that their lives weren''t in danger, he found he didn''t know what to say.


    "Uhh¡­Noah, thanks."


    "Mhm"


    "Mhm. Is that it?"


    "What do you want me to say? That you should be very thankful and make you bow down in front of me?"


    Arthur snorted. "Remember the last time you tried to do something against me?"


    Noah growled. "You caught me off guard."


    "Sure, sure. Whatever makes you sleep at night."


    /////////////


    General Thanason sat alone in his office, the dim light of an oil lamp casting long shadows across the room. His desk was cluttered with papers¡ªbattle reports, casualty lists, and the remnants of the trial''s proceedings. But his eyes weren''t on the documents.


    Instead, he was looking inwards.


    The events of the trial replayed in his mind, each moment digging deeper into his psyche like a splinter he couldn''t remove. Arthur¡­ the boy he had once written off as a coward, a failure, and worse. The boy who had dared to lay hands on his daughter.


    Arthur''s voice from the trial echoed in his mind. "I saved you as well."


    Thanason clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. The boy had spoken with such conviction, such confidence, that it had been impossible to confuse him with the little brat he used to know.


    But Thanason couldn''t reconcile the Arthur he''d seen today with the Arthur he''d known before. The weak, selfish brat who had tried to assault his daughter couldn''t be the same man who had saved soldiers¡ªhis soldiers¡ªon the battlefield. It defied reason. And yet, the evidence was there, staring him in the face. Arthur was a hero.


    A knock at the door pulled him from his thoughts.


    "Enter," he barked, his voice harsher than he intended.


    A soldier stepped in, saluting. "A letter for you, sir."


    "From whom?" Thanason asked, his tone clipped.


    "Officer Skelter, sir."


    Thanason froze, his chest tightening. He hadn''t heard Skelter''s name since the battle. He had assum- well it doesn''t matter now.


    He gestured for the soldier to hand the letter before dismissing him.


    It felt oddly heavy in his hands.


    ''To General Thanason


    I decided to write these letters in the case of my death in the upcoming battle. I have written five. One to you. One to Officer Mara. One to my wife. And one to each of my two children.


    I''m sure you know my title within the army. The Dog of the Army. I was never ashamed of that title. It was always those close to me that were ashamed of it on my behalf, but I always held it as a badge of pride. After all, it wasn''t the army I followed sir. It was you. You who saved my life all those years ago when I was a young criminal, on my way to be hanged for my crimes.


    It was you who spared me. Trained me, and gave me the chance to become who I am. For that, I want to say Thank You. I''d like to think I spent the rest of my life saying thank you to you. I obeyed your every order, even when I disagreed. Even when it kept me up at night, and made me ashamed to be called Father by my children. But still I did it, cause I understand you needed me to act in the best interest of the Thoracen Empire.


    Make no mistake, I never hated you for that. It was my job as one of the few people you trusted in the army. It was also why I, like Officer Mara, accepted the demotion to Officer so we would be transferred to the frontlines on your behalf.


    So in this part sir, I would like to say thank you, and that it has been an honour.


    Now I would like to say, Fuck you sir.


    A kid. I beat a kid for you, almost to death. You''re wrong sir. I observed Arthur myself, and I disagree with you. And believe me sir, I tried not to disagree.


    He is a good kid. He''s most definitely scarred, and I can guess we''re both good reasons for that. His own actions not withstanding


    But he''s a kind kid. Stupidly so. You know he''s been rescuing the soldiers. He even saved Officer Mara, fighting off a MageKnight who had definitely reached the second awakening.


    He would''ve died if he hadn''t luckily entered the trial. He even ventures out at night, to save as much as he can. At night, under the artillery fire and fog and cold.


    I''m not excusing you of what he did, and it''s also not why I''m saying fuck you. I''m saying Fuck you sir, because namely I don''t have the balls to do it while I''m alive. But you''re a hypocrite. Arthur definitely did something wrong. But so did I. Yet you spared me without a second thought to the families I had harmed back then, but now you make a different choice when it involves you.


    I''m a hypocrite also. Beating a kid with the past I have. Maybe the years of me trying to bury those times convinced me that I wasn''t a kid who had done what I did.


    Yet I did do it.


    And I still became someone great. Greater than I thought possible. Yet I had caused irreversible damage to families. Maybe he also can be great. I''ve never asked you for anything while I was alive. But I ask now sir.


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    Not for you to take Arthur in like you did me.


    Only this. Don''t be a fucking hypocrite.


    Thank you very much sir. In many ways, you were more of a father to me then my own ever was. I''ll be waiting for you at my funeral. Don''t be late.


    So with much respect and gratitude. I give you my final salute.


    OFFICER JAMES SKELTER.''


    Thanason''s hands trembled as he set the letter down.


    Skelter''s words hit like a hammer to the chest, breaking through the layers of anger and resentment he had carefully built to justify his actions.


    James had been a man of unwavering loyalty, someone Thanason had trusted implicitly.


    For him to write this¡­ it wasn''t something Thanason could ignore.


    His gaze drifted to the darkened window, his reflection faintly visible against the night. He barely recognized the man staring back at him.


    "What happened to you, Arthur?" he muttered, the words carrying both anger and something far more unsettling¡­doubt.


    ///////////////


    Noah''s slumber was abruptly interrupted by Felt. The younger soldier loomed over him, his sharp grey eyes boring into Noah like two icicles.


    "What is it?" Noah groaned, his voice thick with exhaustion.


    His body still felt the dull ache from overusing Boreas''s blessing in the last battle, the cold lingering in his bones like a ghost.


    "Get up, Noah. The General wants to see you."


    Noah opened his eyes reluctantly, scowling. "That guy, again," he muttered. "Is Arthur already with him?"


    Felt''s lips quirked into a faint smile. "Arthur''s still snoring on the bunk below you. The General asked for you. Just you."


    That sent a warning bell through Noah''s mind. What could he want with me?


    "Suspicious," Noah muttered, sitting up and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He nodded curtly at Felt and swung his legs over the edge of the bunk. He had been hoping for a few quiet days now that the chaos of battle had subsided. But, of course, his tenuous peace had been shattered. ''That''s what I get for being friends with the biggest problem magnet in the army.''


    He trudged through the base, his muttering growing darker with every step. He passed makeshift tents, soldiers sparring, and the distant sound of drills¡ªall reminders that the war didn''t care about his fatigue. His destination loomed ahead: a newly erected structure within the base that served as the General''s temporary headquarters.


    After arriving, Noah was greeted by a soldier who forced him to wait outside the General''s office. Wait, after being dragged out of bed. The irritation simmered in Noah''s chest, making him grind his teeth.


    When he was finally ushered in, his mood was already sour.


    The office was plain. Spartan, even. A single large desk stood at the center, with a high-backed chair on one side where General Thanason sat like an immovable statue. The walls were barren save for a map pinned to one side, and the faint scent of ink and leather filled the room.


    Thanason didn''t speak immediately. His sharp yellow eyes were fixed on the papers spread across his desk, his focus like a physical weight pressing down on the room. Noah swallowed involuntarily. There was something about the General¡ªhis sheer presence¡ªthat felt insurmountable. Like staring up at a mountain that dared you to climb it.


    Finally, Thanason looked up, and Noah felt the full force of his gaze. Those dull yellow eyes landed on him, heavy and unrelenting.


    "Noah," the General said, his deep voice cutting through the silence.


    "I''ve been reading your file. It''s an interesting story, though not an uncommon one for rural boys like yourself."


    Noah''s jaw tightened, his fists clenching at his sides. His shoulders tensed, but he forced himself to stay silent. He didn''t trust his own tongue to remain civil.


    "It says here that you stole from a noble''s house," Thanason continued, his tone clinical. "And, out of the goodness of his heart, that noble sent you to the army instead of executing you." He placed the file down and leaned forward, his sharp gaze boring into Noah''s. "Why don''t you tell me what really happened?"


    Noah hesitated, unsure if this was a trap. But he couldn''t help himself. The truth spilled out in a rush of anger.


    "They stole my mother''s necklace," he said, his voice low and bitter. "It was an old family heirloom that one of the noble daughters had taken a fancy to when my mother wore it. I went to take it back and got caught on the way out. The noble was going to execute me, but my mother¡­"


    His voice faltered for a moment.


    "My mother begged for mercy. So he sent me to the army instead, promising he''d do no harm to my family."


    Thanason leaned back in his chair, a humorless smile tugging at his lips. "Nobles can be such despicable creatures, can''t they? Surrounded by technology and power, yet their ethics remain medieval."


    Noah nodded slowly, unsure of where this was going. "Yeah. I know."


    The General''s expression darkened. "But the noble lied to you, Noah."


    Noah''s head snapped up, his eyes narrowing. "What?"


    Thanason''s voice dropped, the weight of his words filling the room.


    "Your father. He was sent to the army with you. Your mother and little sister were forced into servitude in another household. Servitude is technically illegal in the empire, but there''s a way around laws. Especially if your family are the ones that made them."


    The words hit Noah like a physical blow. His eyes went wide, his breath hitching. "What are you talking about?"


    Thanason''s tone softened, though it didn''t lose its edge. "I can''t help your father now. He fought in the last battle¡­ and he didn''t survive."


    Noah''s legs felt weak. He stumbled back and sank to the floor, unable to process what he''d just heard. "He was here? The whole time?" he whispered, his voice trembling.


    "I''m sorry, Noah," Thanason said, his voice almost sympathetic.


    "But this is what I don''t understand¡ªwhy do you fight for Arthur? He''s a noble, isn''t he? Just like the one who ruined your life."


    Noah let out a shaky breath, trying to steady himself. A bitter smile twisted his lips as he looked up at the General. "Arthur, huh¡­" He shook his head, his voice breaking with a dry laugh. "I know he was a noble. Maybe if I''d known him back then, I''d have hated him. But I didn''t. The Arthur I know now¡­" His voice trailed off as he looked up at the ceiling, his expression unreadable. "He''s not someone you can hate. Respect, maybe. But not hate."


    Thanason studied him for a long moment, his gaze piercing. Then he leaned forward again, his voice low and deliberate. "I''ll make you an offer, Noah. If you agree to betray Arthur¡ªhurt him¡ªI''ll use what influence I have to free your remaining family."


    The room seemed to freeze. Noah''s breath caught in his throat. The offer was tempting. Too tempting. Images of his mother and little sister flashed through his mind, their faces weary but kind. ''Could it be that easy? Don''t I have a responsibility towards them?''


    For a moment, his resolve wavered. He looked down at his trembling hands.


    ''Who is Arthur to me anyway?''


    They hadn''t even known each other long. He could walk away, free his family, and leave it all behind.


    "No," he whispered finally, his voice quiet but firm.


    Thanason didn''t react. He stood up, his towering frame casting a shadow over the desk. "Good," he said, almost to himself. "I don''t have the power to release your family. I''m not a noble, I have little influence beyond the army. But I will tell you this: your father fought with Unit 43. On the day of the battle, they were stationed on the far-left regiment. Chances are his body will be on that side of the battlefield."


    Noah raised an eyebrow, his exhaustion now mingling with suspicion. "You''re going to give up that easily?"


    Thanason smiled coldly, his expression inscrutable. "Perhaps."


    As Noah left the office, his mind reeled with emotions¡ªgrief, anger, and an overwhelming sense of confusion.


    Thanason, meanwhile, sat back down at his desk. His tired eyes stared at the letter from Skelter resting on top of the papers. He let out a long breath, his shoulders sagging.


    For the first time in years, he felt something he hadn''t expected: the faintest flicker of doubt. Arthur was changing, and perhaps, so should he.


    He looked down, and for this first time in years felt old. Leaning forward he muttered to himself.


    "Ahh, it seems I''ve been the idiot all along."

 Chapter 20 - The epilogue of battle

    Arthur was shaken awake by a boy with dark hair and bright green eyes.


    Noah.


    "What?" he murmured, trying to shift to a more comfortable position on his bed.


    "I need a favor."


    Arthur''s eyes shot open, all sense of sleepiness leaving him immediately. He got up out of bed and wordlessly began putting on his uniform. Turning, he saw Noah staring at him, dumbfounded.


    "What? Let''s go."


    Noah nodded dumbly. His gaze seemed distant, as if he wasn''t fully present in the moment.


    "Hey, man, are you good?" Arthur asked, concerned.


    Noah turned back to look at him. For the first time since Arthur had known him, he looked utterly broken. His expression was blank, but his eye¡­they were wide, shimmering with uncried tears.


    "I-I''m okay," he stammered. "Come on."


    Arthur nodded. "Alright." There was no need to pry; he''d find out soon enough.


    The two walked through camp, their boots crunching on the dry dirt. Many turned to whisper and stare at Arthur and Noah. The news of the trial was supposed to be confidential, so naturally everyone knew. They knew what the two of them had done, how they had saved the General, and in doing so, the battle itself.


    Noah ignored the whispers, his head bowed. Arthur did the same. They moved hurriedly toward the battlefield. The fires had died overnight, leaving behind the stench of rotting bodies, rust and smoke.


    When they reached the far left of the battlefield, Noah finally spoke.


    "My f-father is somewhere here."


    "Your dad was here?" Arthur asked, shocked.


    Noah nodded, his lips trembling. "I don''t want to talk about it. Help me move these bodies. I need to bury him."


    Arthur swallowed his questions and began helping Noah search through the endless sea of corpses. It took hours, neither of them speaking as they worked.


    Arthur didn''t suggest taking a break; he knew how it felt to lose family. He knew how hollow words of consolation were. He hadn''t wanted them when Reshi''s family was taken from him, so he didn''t offer them now. Instead, he worked in silence, his presence the only comfort he could give.


    Eventually, they found him. Lamech. Noah''s father.


    Arthur''s breath caught at the sight. The man''s body was a testament to the ferocity of the battle. Two spears jutted from his chest, and his body was riddled with deep gashes, the blood long dried. His face was barely recognizable beneath the grime and wounds.


    Noah shuddered and fell to his knees, his hands trembling as he reached out but didn''t touch his father''s body.


    Arthur knelt beside him. "What was his name?"


    "Lamech," Noah whispered, his voice breaking.


    Arthur nodded solemnly. "I never met you, Lamech, which is a shame, considering you raised Noah. So, please, accept this gift."


    Arthur opened his palm, reopening a scabbed cut. He let his blood drip into Lamech''s mouth.


    "What are you doing?" Noah shouted, shoving Arthur away in a burst of anger.


    Arthur didn''t retaliate. Instead, he simply gestured. "Look."


    Noah''s breath hitched as his father''s wounds began to heal, the grotesque injuries knitting together. Lamech''s body regenerated until he looked as though he were merely sleeping. The transformation was slow but mesmerizing.


    "Thank you," Noah muttered hoarsely.


    "Where are we going to bury him?"


    Noah shook his head, smiling ruefully. "My dad didn''t want to get buried. He wanted to be cremated so that one of us could spread his ashes in our garden back home. So I''m going to keep them with me until I can do that."


    They carried Lamech''s body together, sharing the weight as they moved toward a small clearing. Noah didn''t want his father buried. Instead, they built a pyre. Together, they lit it, watching as the flames consumed Lamech''s body until only ash remained.


    "We''ll do it, Noah," Arthur said firmly. "We''ll spread his ashes, I promise."


    Noah laughed coldly. "We''re criminals, Arthur. We''ll be here for a decade before we even get a chance at freedom."


    Arthur hesitated. Logically, he knew he should keep silent. Telling Noah anything about the future would only risk unnecessary complications. But this world¡­well he couldn''t pretend this was just a novel. And he couldn''t act like Noah was just another character. It seemed wrong now, not to give him hope when he was grieving.


    "Noah," Arthur began, his voice steady. "Two years."


    "What about two years?" Noah asked, his brow furrowing.


    "In two years, we''ll spread his ashes."


    Noah stared at him, his expression a mixture of disbelief and cautious hope. "How do you know?"


    Arthur chuckled softly. "Put it on the list of things I shouldn''t know but do."


    Noah smiled faintly, a small glimmer of light returning to his eyes. "Two years. I can wait that long."


    "It won''t be easy," Arthur warned. "We''ll have to fight for it. Hard. But if we survive, we''ll do it."


    Noah nodded, his chest feeling a little lighter. "Thank you, Arthur."


    They gathered Lamech''s ashes, placing them in a small pouch. Arthur left Noah alone after that, knowing his friend needed space to grieve privately.


    As Arthur walked back through the camp, his thoughts drifted to another death¡ªSkelter. The man who had saved his life. Skelter, the one who had battered him mercilessly, ignored him, and treated him like dirt. Yet, in the end, Skelter had saved him.


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    ''Why?''


    Arthur didn''t know what to feel. He wasn''t grieving exactly, but there was a deep ache, a hollow loss he hadn''t anticipated. Something had been taken from him¡ªsomething he hadn''t realised existed until it was gone.


    Lost in thought, Arthur didn''t notice where he was going until he bumped into General Thanason. The General regarded him with an unreadable expression, his gaze cold and piercing.


    "Follow," Thanason ordered before turning and walking off.


    Arthur obeyed, his confusion growing. He followed the General to a waiting jeep.


    Inside sat Officer Mara, her once-wounded form now healed. She smiled at Arthur as he climbed in. Her skin had returned to its gentle glow like moonstone, and her red hair was no longer frayed with burns and cuts, returning to its usual scarlet luster.


    They drove in silence, and when they arrived at their destination, Arthur''s stomach churned. Skelter''s funeral. The ceremony was grand, filled with pomp and tradition. There were trumpets and traditional gun fire from old-fashioned guns that had been common on Earth. Many military figures attended the funeral, all in their ceremonial uniforms. It made him feel out of place amongst all the soldiers in sharply cut uniforms. These were people that probably knew Skelter, maybe even liked him. Who was he?


    So he retreated to the back as they lowered Skelter''s grave into the earth.


    A woman approached him¡ªa woman with short brown hair and tear-streaked cheeks. She held the hands of two young girls who clung to her dress. Her dark eyes were red and swollen from crying.


    Eventually, she spoke up with a cracked voice. "I don''t think I''ve seen you before. What''s your name?"


    "Arthur, " he replied simply, his eyes focused on Skelter''s grave and not on the conversation. ''Why did he save me? Why?''


    "You knew James?" she asked softly, her voice trembling.


    "In a way," Arthur replied, turning to her, his voice hollow. "He saved my life."


    The woman smiled faintly, her grief momentarily softened. "That sounds like him."


    Arthur''s chest tightened. "I''m sorry. But who are you?"


    "I''m his wife," she said simply.


    Arthur''s heart plummeted. He stared at her, then at the two girls, his expression faltering. ''You idiot, Skelter. You were a husband. A father. Why the hell did you save me?''


    Arthur felt tears rush to his eyes as guilt gripped his heart like a vice. ''I''m the reason her husband is dead.''


    "I-I''m sorry," he stammered.


    She looked at him questioningly.


    Arthur felt the words bubble out of him. The guilt, the confusion. And what surprised him the most, ''grief.'' Not because he had cared for Skelter, but because Skelter had saved him. His wife would be left without her husband, his children without a father.


    All because of him.


    "He died because of me. He saved my life. He didn''t even know me, but he saved my life. Even though he had so much to lose. I''m sorry. I''m so sorry, it''s my fault" he blubbered.


    Arthur saw her arms move. He tensed for a slap or a punch...but she hugged him. Bringing him close and hugging him tight in a warm embrace.


    Arthur froze, the warmth of her arms foreign and jarring. But he didn''t pull away. This warmth felt alien to him. How long had it been since he had been hugged like this? As though by a mother. Certainly not in his memories of Arthur. Even as Reshi he craved this feeling during the final weeks of his life.


    He cried, tears he hadn''t realized he was holding in pouring out as she held him and whispered, "It''s okay."


    For the first time in what felt like ages, Arthur felt something shift within him. Grief. Guilt. Gratitude, and overwhelming pain. He let it all out, clinging to the woman who had every reason to hate him but had instead chosen to comfort.


    ////////////////////////////


    From a distance, Officer Mara watched with a sad smile.


    "Sometimes, I forget he''s just a fourteen-year-old kid."


    Thanason grunted. "He''s a soldier now. He''ll have to learn."


    Mara sighed. "Maybe. But right now, he''s just a boy."


    Thanason snorted derisively.


    Officer Mara smiled sadly. "I see you''re going to do the same thing then."


    "What''s that?"


    "Not grieve, or cry. Instead, you''re going to eliminate every single one of those bastards."


    "You''re damn fucking right," General Thanason growled, his fists clenching.


    He couldn''t grieve like Arthur did. That had been trained out of him. Instead, he''d avenge Skelter''s death. They''d pay. All of those damn rebels would pay.


    ////////////////////////////////////


    Arthur left Amanda after crying pathetically in her arms. She waved to him as he walked away.


    "Don''t be a stranger Arthur, I''ll be waiting for you."


    Arthur nodded silently, waving back. He walked away from the funeral, wanting some time alone. He was confused. His mind was a wreck, a tangle of emotions and buried feelings. And honestly, he was just too tired to deal with it.


    It was then he realised that no one was watching him. All of them were at the funeral. He could escape right now, run, live a new life...free of all this shit and responsibility.


    Then he thought of Noah. Of Sera, and Skelter, of countless soldiers bleeding out on the battlefield. So¡­


    He laughed at himself, and instead of taking the chance, he turned back. Walking back to Skelter''s funeral.


    ''They really have given me a good leash.''

 Chapter 21 - The ties that bind us

    Arthur returned to base, his mind a tangled web of thoughts. He had returned to the funeral under the heavy gaze of General Thanason, staying out of the way for the rest of the funeral, until they returned to base. Lost in his own thoughts.


    ////////////////


    Officer Mara watched Arthur''s retreating figure with a troubled expression. "You''re sure about transferring them, sir? They''re just kids."


    General Thanason''s yellow eyes, dull as weathered gold, followed Arthur''s slouched silhouette. For a fleeting moment, Mara thought she saw regret flicker across his stoic features.


    "I''m sure," he said finally, his tone unyielding. "Those two achieved more in a single battle than most veterans manage in a lifetime. Losing them would be a waste


    "But sir," she pressed, "one of them is your daughter''s age. The other is younger. How can you¡ª"


    "I try not to think about it," General Thanason cut her off curtly. His gaze hardened, and for a moment, Mara saw the battle-hardened commander for what he truly was. Unyielding and uncompromising.


    "This war doesn''t care about age, Mara. You know that as well as I do. It''s all about those who can, and those who can''t. And from what I see, those two can."


    Mara fell silent, her protest dying in her throat as she glanced at Arthur again.


    The boy''s shoulders slumped as he trudged toward the Unit 7 building, the weight of the world seemingly perched atop them.


    She sighed heavily. ''War doesn''t care about age. But I do.''


    Arthur shoved his emotions aside with a frustrated huff. Thinking about everything was too exhausting right now. His body moved on autopilot, guiding him to the familiar, rundown barracks of Unit 7. Inside, the squad was sprawled out across the room, their laughter and easy camaraderie filling the air.


    "Oh, hey, Arthur!" Felt greeted brightly, his voice cutting through the din.


    Mat perked up at the mention of Arthur''s name, a sly grin spreading across his face.


    "Is that Arthur, the esteemed saint of war, gracing us with his holy presence?" His voice dripped with mock reverence. "Or do you prefer ''Devil of Peace''? Really, you should settle on one title for us, mate. It''s confusing."


    Arthur shot a sharp look at Noah, who winced and looked away sheepishly.


    ''So you told them about the trial, huh? Two can play at that game.''


    Noah, sensing the unspoken accusation, blurted out, "Arthur got a blessing too!"


    "Way to shift the attention, genius," Arthur muttered under his breath.


    Felt raised an eyebrow. "Oh, is that so?"


    "Noah can use ice," Arthur said flatly, throwing his friend under the bus in retaliation.


    "And Arthur can heal people with his blood," Noah shot back, a little too smugly.


    Mat laughed adding a dramatic flair, and gesturing wildly as if Arthur''s blood magic were the stuff of legend.


    "Noah''s eyes turn blue when he uses ice," Artur rebutted.


    The squad collectively burst into laughter, their amusement echoing off the barracks'' walls. Arthur groaned inwardly, pinching the bridge of his nose as Noah turned beet red.


    Petro leaned back in his chair with a wide grin. "Don''t take it too hard, boys. Everyone''s a bit of an idiot after their first real battle."


    "Remember how you acted after your first, Mat?" Finn chimed in, a sly smile on his face. His deep blue eyes sparkled with mischief as he turned to Petro. "I seem to recall a certain someone couldn''t stop crying for a week."


    "Oi!" Mat hissed, sitting up defensively. "I did not cry for a week! I¡ª"


    "You totally did," Finn interrupted, laughing.


    Arthur watched their banter with a growing sense of curiosity. The way they spoke, the ease with which they teased one another¡ªit felt like they''d been together far longer than the few months he''d assumed.


    "Wait a second," he said, his brow furrowing. "How long have you guys known each other?"


    Petro grinned. "Oh, about five years now. Felt and Caster have known each other the longest¡ªwhat is it, seven years now?"


    Caster nodded silently, his orange eyes flickering like embers as they met Arthur''s gaze. The man rarely spoke, but there was something about his quiet presence that demanded respect.


    "Seven years?" Arthur blinked in surprise. "I thought magic squads were usually thrown together randomly."


    Felt chuckled, his sharp grey eyes twinkling with amusement. "What, you think they''d stick two prospect MageKnights like you and Noah into an ordinary squad? Nah. Magic squads are usually seven people, but we''ve¡­ Well, we''ve lost a few along the way, so we we''re five when we came here."


    Arthur''s throat tightened. He knew better than to ask what "lost" meant in this context.


    Finn smiled sadly, his voice quieter now. "Tam and Daniel. They were good people. They joined for a couple of months but weren''t part of our original squad."


    "So," Noah hesitated, "if you aren''t an ordinary magic squad¡­ what are you?"


    The air in the room shifted. The squad exchanged glances, an unspoken conversation passing between them. Finally, Mat leaned back with a lopsided grin. "You''ll find out soon enough. If Officer Mara lets you, that is."


    Arthur and Noah exchanged uneasy looks of their own. Something about this squad, and the way they spoke in riddles, didn''t sit right with him.


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    Felt, ever the opportunist, clapped his hands together. "Enough heavy talk. Anyone up for a game of chess?"


    The room erupted into groans.


    "Felt," Petro groaned, "no one wants to play your damn chess game."


    Undeterred, Felt turned to Arthur and Noah, his eyes gleaming with hope. "What about you two?"


    Noah shot Arthur a look that screamed Run. Now. But Arthur, oblivious to the danger, shrugged. "Sure, why not?"


    What followed was a gruelling lecture on chess strategy. Felt''s enthusiasm was unmatched, his explanations painfully detailed. By the end of it, Arthur was practically begging for mercy, his brain fried from a deluge of terms like "fork," "pin," and "Sicilian Defense."


    Just as Arthur was contemplating faking a sudden illness, Officer Mara walked in. Her sharp gaze swept over the room, immediately silencing the chatter.


    "Attention, Squad."


    Everyone snapped to their feet, saluting.


    "We''ve been transferred back to General Thanason''s forces."


    The announcement was met with cheers¡ªexcept from Arthur and Noah, who stood frozen in place.


    "Weren''t we already part of his army?" Noah asked, clearly confused.


    Mara shot Felt a pointed look. "Fill them in. They need to know everything if they''re coming with us."


    Felt''s grin widened as he turned back to the pair. "Oh, I''ll be happy to. Especially since I think I''ve found my new chess partner."


    Arthur groaned inwardly, catching the faintest hint of sympathy in Mara''s amused smile as she left the room.


    Felt motioned for Arthur and Noah to sit, his demeanor unusually serious now. "Alright, listen up. I''ll keep this brief. First, do you know why the rebellion started?"


    Arthur nodded. Noah shook his head.


    Felt sighed. "I figured as much. Look, this rebellion isn''t just about discontent with the nobility. It''s about power¡ªand the people stoking the flames. There are four major figures behind it, known as the Pillars. Or at least, there were four. Thanks to you two, one of them is gone."


    Arthur frowned. "The Spider."


    Felt nodded. "Raleigh. Former Spymaster of the Thoracen Empire. He was clever, but was never suited to his power. Raleigh had always been more of a fighter than Spymaster, General Thanason exploited that. And now, he''s dead."


    "But there are three more?" Noah asked nervously.


    "The Lion. The Snake. And William of Orange." Felt''s expression darkened. "The Lion and Snake are dangerous men, just like Raleigh. William of Orange, though¡­ he''s a mystery. For the commoners, he''s the face of the rebellion. Whether he''s truly in control, we don''t know."


    Flet paused, letting the knowledge sink before he continued.


    "Now it''s time to talk about our side. The Thoracen Empire has been reluctant to actually treat this as more of a civil war than a rebellion. That''s why they haven''t devoted serious resources to it. But after the death of the Commander by that Bow MageKnight, they were forced to relent slightly, which is why General Thanason was able to arrive. However, before that General Thanason sent two units in as spies, foreseeing the fact that he''d eventually be called. One unit was Officer Skelter''s, the other was Commander Scarlet''s."


    "Commander Scarlet? Who''s that?" Noah asked.


    Felt smiled, "You''ve met her already. Of course when you met her she had been limited to a Stage awakened so General Thanason''s ploy wouldn''t be revealed. She also went under the disguise of Officer Mara¡­"


    Noah and Arthur looked at him, jaws open in shock. "Commander?" Noah said weakly, remembering all the times he''d been rude or dismissive. "Shit."


    Felt laughed, "You two are joining our squad, really this time. And we''re going to transfer back to General Thanason''s unit as we advance to the next frontier of the rebellion."


    "Wait" Noah interrupted. "Is your name fake as well? I mean Felt is kinda a crappy name now that I think about it."


    Felt smiled, an utterly cold and dangerous smile that shut up Noah immediately. "No, actually. It isn''t a fake name."


    "Ah, I see."


    "So we''re joining his unit? Why? We aren''t specially trained like you."


    Felt looked at him with wide eyes, "I think that''s exactly why. You two aren''t even proper Stage 1 awakened MageKnights, and yet, well look at what you did. Together you took down the archer who shot down the MageKnight, and saved the commander''s life, as well as the entire battle. Imagine what you could do after being trained."


    Arthur nodded, he''d expected something like this to happen sooner or later. He needed to make a name for himself if he wanted that scholarship after all. Noah however was slightly more nervous.


    "Wait¡­what happens if I don''t wanna go. If I wanna stay here and be a normal soldier?"


    Arthur nudged him, "Remember what I said Noah, this is part of the plan."


    Noah stared into Arthur''s scarlet eyes. ''In two years eh. Well he did warn me it''d be hard.''


    Noah turned back to Felt with a resolute expression, "Alright then."


    Felt smiled, clapping them both on the shoulders. "Good. Now get packed. We leave tonight."


    Arthur couldn''t resist one last question. "Where are we going?"


    Felt''s grin widened. "Wherever the soldiers we fought came from. That''s where the next battle begins."

 Chapter 22 - The conquering of Fort Lanai

    General Thanason moved swiftly through the ranks of his men. His towering figure, clad in immaculate armor, commanded attention like a force of nature.


    In his presence, every soldier''s back straightened, their pride pulling their spines upright. There was no magic in the way he carried himself, not the kind that could be gained through mana. But his presence was palpable, undeniable, and it radiated with an aura of authority that left no room for hesitation. It was a presence gained from experience. From killing a man, again and again.


    He didn''t just lead his men; he embodied the very ideals they fought for.


    Every step he took was an affirmation of their cause.


    Thanason believed that if you wanted a man to die for you, you had to make sure he knew exactly why. He had to see exactly why.


    And there was no better way to impart that knowledge than by standing among them, by showing them the strength they could aspire to.


    Standing at the front of the ranks, he nodded to Commander Tahar, who was already at the head of the battalion, his stern face a picture of quiet resolve.


    "You''ve done well, Commander," Thanason said, his voice deep and resonant, carrying across the battalion purposefully. "These men are hardy, no doubt about it."


    Tahar saluted with practiced precision, his gaze unwavering. "Thank you, sir."


    Thanason turned, his sharp gaze sweeping across the assembled soldiers like a blade, cutting through the air.


    The men felt the weight of his gaze, and without a word, he raised his hand in a salute.


    That fulfilled his second belief. If a man was willing to die for you, he damn well earnt your respect.


    The entire battalion responded in kind, their voices rising in a unified roar, a wordless declaration of pride and resolve.


    //////////////////


    The atmosphere around him was electric, alive with anticipation as the first light of dawn cut through the horizon.


    General Thanason walked briskly toward the building housing his personal squad. The air around him seemed to hum with an invisible energy, something almost palpable.


    It wasn''t magic, not directly.


    But as a third-stage awakened being, his presence carried an undeniable weight, a pressure that only those who had attained such power could comprehend. Even restrained, it had an almost storm-like intensity, as though it were only a breath away from unleashing its full force.


    As he approached, Commander Scarlet emerged from the building. Her crimson hair caught the early morning light, cascading like fire, a brilliant contrast to the somber tone of the camp.


    The veil of her disguise as Officer Mara had been discarded, and once again, she had returned to her true identity as a commander. He found it an insult to the Empire that someone of her caliber had been forced to lower herself to a 1st stage Awakened Officer due to the Empire''s politics.


    "Commander," Thanason greeted with a nod.


    "General," Scarlet replied, her voice steady and sharp, as always. Her dark eyes locked onto his with the same unyielding focus that defined her.


    "Are your units ready?" Thanason inquired, his tone clipped.


    "Not entirely," Scarlet admitted, her brow furrowing slightly. "Arthur and Noah are still green. Their skills are raw. Noah at least had some sword training, but Arthur. His spear skills are purely instinctive. Which honestly, is still better than his swordsmanship skills."


    Thanason frowned slightly as he thought.


    "We''ll keep them with me for any future attacks," Thanason decided. "Under my watch, they''ll gain experience without putting themselves¡ªor the men¡ªat unnecessary risk."


    Scarlet nodded. "Yes, sir."


    By the time the sun fully rose, the battalion was ready. Rows upon rows of soldiers stood at attention, their armor gleaming under the early light, their faces set with unwavering resolve. Among them, Arthur and Noah stood out¡ªnot for their skill, but for their palpable determination.


    Arthur''s wide eyes scanned the battlefield, his grip on his weapon tight, his instincts tingling with the raw anticipation of combat. Noah, his expression grim, kept his focus forward, his mind running through the strategies he''d studied.


    The shimmering yellow light of the teleporter flared to life ahead, casting long, jagged shadows across the rocky ground.


    Thanason raised his hand. "Squads 1, 3, and 4¡ªadvance!"


    Without hesitation, the soldiers surged forward, stepping into the teleportation field. Thanason followed, his massive sword of light materializing in his grasp. The familiar icy chill of teleportation washed over him, and in an instant, they were transported.


    The world solidified around them, and Thanason found himself standing at the foot of Fort Lanai. The fortress loomed before him, its towering stone walls rising between two jagged mountains like a defiant sentinel.


    The strategic importance of this fort was undeniable. Holding this position would allow the army to push deeper into the heart of the rebel territory, but taking it would be no small feat.


    "Begin the assault!" Thanason commanded.


    The ground trembled as MageKnights unleashed their devastating spells. Fire tore through the sky, scorching the earth in waves of violent orange and red. Yet, as the attacks neared, the walls of Fort Lanai began to shimmer with an ethereal blue glow.


    A forcefield. Arthur''s eyes widened as the defensive barrier surged to life, wrapping around the fort like a protective cocoon.


    "It''s not working," Arthur shouted above the noise.


    "It''s not supposed to," Noah replied, his voice soft, as if considering something.


    "Watch."


    Arthur looked at him, but there was no time to ask questions. An explosion sent a shower of rocks flying, and Arthur ducked instinctively behind his shield, narrowly avoiding a barrage of mana spells.


    Amidst the chaos, Thanason surged forward. His blade of light flared with blinding intensity, casting an otherworldly glow across the battlefield. Raising it high, he shouted one command.


    "Scatter."


    Arthur froze, his heart pounding as he watched in awe. ''What the fuck am I watching?''


    Thanason''s form dissolved into thousands of shards of light, each one streaking toward the fort like a rain of stars. The forcefield shuddered and flickered violently, but Thanason wasn''t aiming to destroy it.


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    No. He was slipping through the cracks.


    "Did he just¡ª?" Arthur started, but the sound of the battle drowned out his words.


    Inside the fort, Thanason materialized in an instant, surrounded by the stunned defenders. His sword pulsed with a blinding brilliance as he faced two formidable foes: Commander Ravix, a mountain of a man wielding a warhammer crackling with lightning, and Commander Elsira, a mage cloaked in swirling shadows.


    ''It''s good the two commanders decided to fight me. Makes it easier'' he thought calmly. The fact he was surrounded had no effect on him, the soldiers around him were practically babies in his eyes.


    "So, you''re the infamous General Thanason," Ravix growled, his voice deep and rumbling like thunder.


    "We''ve heard of your tricks. But you won''t leave here alive."


    Thanason tilted his head slightly, unfazed. "Surrender. I don''t enjoy playing games with children."


    Elsira smirked, raising her staff as tendrils of shadow spiraled around her. "We''ll see who plays with who."


    Thanason''s smile widened, a cold, predatory gleam in his eyes. "How are you going to play when you can''t see?"


    With that, he raised his hand, and the very light around him seemed to warp and distort.


    He uttered a single word: "Refract."


    Suddenly, the world around Arthur plunged into darkness. Not the kind of dark one experiences at night, or when closing one''s eyes. This was an absolute void, a crushing emptiness that swallowed all sense of direction.


    Arthur''s heart pounded in his chest. He didn''t know if his eyes were open or closed, only that he was running. But where? What was he running on? And where was everyone else?


    His mind screamed at him to stop, but he gritted his teeth and pushed forward. To hesitate, to falter, could mean collision. And if he stopped moving, someone¡ªsomeone else¡ªmight crash into him. No. He had to keep going.


    ///////////////////////


    In the dark, Elsira''s voice rang out in anger. "Coward! Face me in the light!"


    But the darkness was a prison, and there was no light. No shadows to manipulate. Just a pitch-black void where nothing existed.


    General Thanason''s voice echoed from the void, deep and rumbling. "You two... if only you could see how foolish you look."


    Elsira snarled. "Ravix, use your fire!"


    Ravix''s voice came from the left, tinged with frustration. "It doesn''t work. There''s no light here. Only darkness."


    "You are in my domain. And I don''t permit light here," Thanason''s voice reverberated, chilling the air.


    Suddenly, a piercing scream split the void. A masculine cry of pain. Then silence.


    Elsira''s panic surged, ''Was Ravix dead...already?''


    At that moment, Thanason''s voice rang out again. "You know, light is my third awakened-stage affinity. But it''s my second affinity everyone should fear. Yet somehow, it gets overshadowed."


    Elsira felt a surge of raw electricity pulse through her body, the sensation so intense that it almost knocked her off her feet. Her muscles locked, and she screamed in agony as the volts surged through her.


    Elsira''s vision blurred, and her body crumpled to the ground, helpless as a different darkness overwhelmed her. A final darkness.


    Though no one could see it, General Thanason smiled as he stood above the two corpses. Sometimes it felt nice to be overwhelming, to feel in control again. That was one of the hardest things he had to learn when he became General: to give up control.


    ''Now then, it was time for the plan to be enacted.''


    With a sigh, he released his spell completely, allowing light to flood into the area again.


    Arthur stood agape as his sight returned, the surroundings blurring back into view.


    The first thing he realized was that he was alone¡ªwell, apart from Noah. The rest of the army was far behind them, advancing at an even pace. The second thing he realized was that General Thanason stood among a swarm of soldiers, and two dead commanders.


    And the third thing he realized was that most of the soldiers present weren''t rebels. They were allies? ''But how?''


    Officer Mara appeared before him¡ªor, Commander Scarlet, as he had to remind himself.


    "Impressive, isn''t it?"


    "What is this?" Arthur asked, breathless.


    "Refraction," she replied. "He can control the direction of light, distort, and bend it. From the beginning, we were nothing but a distraction. The other units who never advanced, they came after."


    "But I never saw them."


    She smiled. "That was because Refraction was already active. Because of the noise we made, no one noticed that when General Thanason used Scatter, the light came from many different sources. Then, when he entered, he killed the two enemies, using Refraction to block all light. So when he released the spell completely, our allies came back into view."


    "Why go through such a roundabout method? Why not teleport all of us?"


    "Because," she said, "he needed to make it seem like he was the only one who could enter, so no reinforcements would be called. Also, the mana barrier that kept us out now traps them in. This was all done to take over as covertly as possible, you see."


    Noah approached the mana barrier in wide-eyed wonder. The rebels'' greatest defense, their mana barrier, had now become a prison, locking them into the bloodshed.


    "This entire thing," he murmured, "all of us were a distraction. What the fuck?"


    Commander Scarlet laughed. "It was funny. You see, the rest of us are familiar with the General''s abilities, so we know the gist. Go back to walking, it seems I must''ve forgotten to tell you that." Her eyes fluttered innocently as she gazed at them.


    Arthur felt a profound surge of violence wash through him as he gazed at her.


    Still, it was not enough to overshadow his shock. The fort was theirs.


    Thanason turned to his soldiers, his voice ringing out across the battlefield. "Fort Lanai has fallen! Today, we take the first step toward crushing this rebellion!"


    A deafening cheer erupted from the soldiers, but Arthur could only stare at the general, his mind racing. Thanason''s power was unlike anything he had ever seen. And for the first time, he understood why the man was both feared and revered.

 Chapter 23 - The pain of weakness

    Arthur awoke bright and early.


    He heard the familiar sounds of heavy breathing of the rest of his unit. Felt slept as always, like an iron poker rod, rigid. As if he was trying to stand at attention while he slept.


    Mat snored like a drill. While during war those sounds had blissfully been overshadowed by the shower of heavy artillery. Now that they were no longer fighting, it now became an unbearable torture. Arthur had to make sure he was already asleep before Mat, or otherwise he''d be forced to stay awake the entire night.


    But out of all them, Caster''s habits were probably the strangest. Why? Because he slept on the roof. Not on the wooden shafts that were just under the ceiling. No. He slept on the roof, his body open to the elements.


    ''Bunch of crazy people, the lot of them,'' he sighed inwardly.


    He was no longer in the crumbling barracks of his old base, nor the suffocating confines of the General''s outposts. He was sleeping in Fort Lanai, one of the last human-built fortresses in Pandora, famed for its defenses and near-impenetrable design.


    Yet it had fallen in a single day.


    True, there had been no one at General Thanason''s caliber defending it, which was unusual for such a crucial stronghold. But that didn''t diminish the ingenuity or sheer power displayed by the General. Arthur had watched the plan unfold in stunned silence, witnessing how strategy and might worked in unison. Something stirred within him during that battle. For the first time, Arthur didn''t just crave strength for survival or freedom¡ªhe wanted it for its own sake, to feel the thrill of wielding such power.


    ''Was this how battle-crazed maniacs began?'' He smirked inwardly.


    When he woke, it wasn''t an alarm or another soldier that roused him. It was his own burning drive. Across the room, Noah was already awake, his sharp green eyes carrying the same focused realization.


    They didn''t need words. The shared understanding between them was enough.


    Both dressed in their new armor: the same standard issue they had always worn, now painted white and red, the colors of the rebellion. It was the second phase of Thanason''s audacious plan. After taking Fort Lanai, the General intended to pose as the rebellion''s own forces, infiltrating their ranks from within to deal maximum damage.


    As Arthur adjusted his armor, he couldn''t help but reflect on the brilliance of the plan. Thanason embodied his power through his tactics: he became a beacon, drawing all eyes to himself while the true threat moved unnoticed in the shadows.


    "I wonder if abilities are tied to the psyche," Arthur mused as they made their way to the training grounds. In many ways, General Thanason did embody light. It wasn''t a bad idea to explore.


    There, he saw Commander Scarlet, her armor unlike anything he had ever seen. It shimmered with engraved runes, ordinary metal enhanced to exude power. The sight reminded him of Ascension, the legendary spear he had once used to kill a MageKnight. Mana-forged relics, capable of turning ordinary equipment into artifacts of legend. They were a notch above ordinary forged Aresium.


    He saluted without hesitation. The motion no longer felt strange.


    "Arthur, good," Scarlet said, her voice brisk.


    For ten awkward minutes, they stood in silence until he finally broke it. "Commander, are we starting training?"


    Scarlet''s lips curved into a smile that carried a touch of malice. "I don''t wield the spear, Arthur. Your instructor is waiting for you outside."


    Arthur clenched his teeth. She had a knack for being maddeningly cryptic, and there was nothing he could do about it.


    "Thanks," he muttered, stalking off toward the gates. "I hope it''s someone worth learning from."


    Beyond the fort, a figure waited.


    At first glance, the man seemed young, no older than twenty-five. His long, dark hair whipped in the wind, partially obscuring a face lined with weariness that betrayed his age. His clothes were tattered: black robes frayed at the edges and a loose gray scarf draped around his neck. In one hand, he held a spear.


    Arthur''s breath hitched. For a moment, he thought it was Ascension, but a closer look revealed otherwise. The blade was longer, slightly curved, designed for slicing rather than thrusting. Yet, the aura it radiated was no less intimidating.


    "So you''re him, huh?" The man''s voice was soft, almost gentle, in stark contrast to his fearsome appearance.


    "Yeah, I am," Arthur replied warily.


    The man nodded, his eyes glinting. "Follow me."


    He turned and began walking toward the mountains. Arthur hurried to keep pace. "Where are we going?"


    The man didn''t answer.


    "What''s your name?"


    The question seemed to amuse him. He paused briefly before replying, "You may call me Master."


    Arthur stopped dead in his tracks. "Master? I didn''t agree to that."


    The man turned, his expression unreadable. "Nor have I accepted you as my disciple."


    "So we agree then? You''re not my master," Arthur said, crossing his arms. In this world, a Master, Disciple relationship was extremely treasured. It was an exchange, a bond that surpassed all others. It wasn''t something to be offered or received on a whim. No one apart from the protagonist had ever had more than one master, but of course, he was the MC so there was no argueing with that.


    Arthur didn''t want to squander his chance of a good master later down the line because of this.


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    The man smirked and continued walking. "I used to be called Syar, a lifetime ago. If you wish to follow me, do so. Take the leap, or don''t. It matters little to me."


    Arthur hesitated. Syar''s demeanor screamed power. Arthur had learned to trust his instincts in this world: if someone acted like they could destroy a mountain, they probably could. It was common sense. Same as if you see someone doing protagonist feats, don''t get in the way, you will lose.


    But trusting Syar meant committing to something lifelong. Was it worth it?


    "Can you teach me the spear?" Arthur called out.


    "No," Syar said without stopping. "But I can show you how to master it. How to surpass everyone else."


    Arthur clenched his fists, should he take the risk, or not? Should he, or not? Syar, he hadn''t heard that name before, which means he was either very strong, so much so that he was only known by another title. Or he was a fraud. ''I doubt they''d make me train with a fraud,'' he reasoned to himself.


    "Fine. Thank you, Master" he relented, running to catch up.


    Syar snorted. "I''m not your master yet. Nor are you my disciple."


    "So what was the whole name thing about?"


    "To see if you were willing to try. To see if you truly wanted to become stronger or not. Strength is all about risk. To handle more than what you are, so you can become greater than yourself. But with the promise of strength, also comes risk. I needed to know if you were desperate enough to make the leap."


    Arthur didn''t understand but nodded anyway. "Why are you doing this?"


    Syar''s laughter echoed through the mountains. "Weaklings don''t get to ask questions. If you want answers, get stronger. Until then, accept that you exist to obey or die. Never forget that."


    Arthur bit back a retort, swallowing his frustration. If Syar could make him stronger, then so be it. He''d endure. But damn, he just had to jump from one cryptic bastard to another, didn''t he.


    ///////////////////////////


    Meanwhile, Noah faced Officer Mara in the training grounds. Her smile was as sharp as her unsheathed blade.


    "Commander," Noah saluted stiffly.


    "At ease," Mara said casually. "Today''s training will be simple. I''m going easy on you."


    Noah''s gut twisted. "What kind of training?"


    "A casual spar." She smiled sweetly, and Noah''s stomach dropped.


    "Casual, huh?" he muttered, gripping his sword. "Why do I feel like I''m about to regret this?"


    With a resigned sigh, Noah lunged forward. He had no choice. If Arthur was out there getting stronger, so would he. He still owed Noah for taking him by surprise that one night.


    Arthur''s lungs burned as they climbed higher into the mountains within rebel territory. Syar had seemed to find the most ancient and scary looking mountain, and climb it. It was so large, he doubted he could live there his entire life and still not have traversed it all.


    The air thinned with every step, and each breath felt like dragging fire into his chest. Yet, Syar didn''t slow, so neither did Arthur.


    He stumbled, cursed, and pushed forward, refusing to collapse. ''He''ll falter before I do,'' he thought stubbornly, determined to prove that this man wasn''t worthy of being his master. It was that motivational spite that kept him going.


    But spirit alone couldn''t sustain him. His legs gave out, and he fell to all fours, dragging himself forward with trembling arms. Syar finally stopped, turning back with an amused snort.


    "Damn bastard," Arthur muttered through gritted teeth, clawing at the dirt to keep moving.


    One more step. Then another. Then another. Heaving as he forced his arms to keep going. Dragging his legs, his face dragging across the dirt as he lost the energy to lift it.


    Darkness closed in, and Arthur collapsed.


    Syar stopped as the boy finally fainted. Now that Arthur had lost consciousness, he finally turned back, a small smile flickering on his lips. This had been an unfair test, true. But he wanted to test the boy''s grit. That was one thing he had noticed with the previous nobles he had tried to train.


    They lacked grit. It was something he only found in those whose everyday was a struggle, a battle to live. Not in the pampered homes of the nobility. If it wasn''t for the insistence of the Thanason boy, he never would''ve even tried training Arthur.


    Yet, Skelter had died for this boy. True Skelter wasn''t anyone powerful, deserving of respect. He had chosen a family over power, home over hardship. Yet he had been the only one to successfully refuse him.


    So it had been curiosity that drove him here. Who was it that had finally managed to make that fool sacrifice his own life, for something else.


    Who?


    And, he was not disappointed.


    The ten thousand steps was an old practice. Ancient...something even the old masters of today hadn''t undertaken. It was an ancient trial between student and master. Something discontinued due to the sheer strain placed on the untrained disciple.


    Yet of those, none had ever gone past the first three thousand steps untrained, only the those with the most potential reaching that


    This boy, he had collapsed on three thousand and ten. Syar wasn''t impressed by the three thousand. After all, that he been achieved before. But those last ten, they had impressed.


    Because those last ten steps weren''t done by two feet, but by crawling pitifully on the ground.


    That was grit. And he liked it.

 Chapter 24 - The Pain of weakness 2

    Arthur awoke groggily, his head pounding with a relentless, rhythmic pain as though someone had been using it as a drum.


    ''Where am I?'' he thought, his mind clouded with confusion. The darkness around him was impenetrable, and he realized he was lying on something cold and unyielding. The ground?


    A surge of panic jolted through him like lightning. For a fleeting, harrowing moment, he thought he was back on the battlefield, trapped in the night. Adrenaline surged through him banished his fatigue, and he leapt to his feet, eyes scanning wildly for threats.


    But no¡ªthis wasn''t the battlefield.


    ''You idiot'', he chastised himself, his breath escaping in a long, shuddering sigh. ''The battle ended long ago.''


    Forcing himself to take a moment, Arthur properly surveyed his surroundings. He was in a cave. The jagged walls of dark stone surrounded him, glistening faintly with moisture. Memories began to filter back: the arduous climb up the mountain¡­ and then¡­ nothing. A void of blackness.


    ''Syar must''ve carried me here'', he reasoned, stepping cautiously toward the cave''s entrance. When he emerged, the biting chill of the high-altitude air hit him, and he realized just how far up he was. The landscape below stretched into a sea of jagged peaks and mist-filled valleys.


    It wasn''t the same mountain he''d tried to climb.


    "So, you''re awake then," a gravelly voice called out.


    Arthur flinched, his hand instinctively reaching for his side. He hadn''t noticed Syar crouched near the cave''s entrance, his rugged robes blending seamlessly with the dark rock. The man''s sharp eyes glimmered with a knowing amusement.


    "What was that place?" Arthur asked quietly, his voice tinged with unease. There was no mistaking what he meant. That mountain wasn''t normal. He was no longer the feeble noble he had once been; as an Awakened, scaling such a height shouldn''t have been an insurmountable challenge.


    And yet, it had been.


    The shame of his failure burned in his chest. He''d thought himself above Syar, questioning the man''s worth as a master, only to faint during a climb.


    Syar chuckled as if reading his thoughts. "There''s no need for shame. You''re not the first to faint climbing that mountain, but you may be the last."


    "Huh? What do you mean?"


    Syar''s dark eyes fixed on the horizon, a faint smile tugging at his weathered face. "That mountain has a name older than this land. The elves call it Dracken Fjell. It''s ancient¡ªa relic from before our race ever set foot here."


    Arthur felt a strange sense of reverence at the mention of the name. "What do we call it?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.


    "Dragonmount," Syar replied.


    Arthur''s eyes widened. "Dragonmount? Does a dragon live there?"


    Syar''s laugh was low and bitter. "If only. No, what resides there is far more tragic."


    He paused, as if weighing how much to reveal, then continued, "Legends speak of it as the resting place of a crying deity. Who knows, the elves did speak of Dragons as minor deities back when they existed.


    But from what I know, it contains a dragon egg."


    Arthur''s heart skipped a beat. "A dragon egg? How could it remain unhatched for so long?"


    "Because," Syar said, his tone grave, "that egg¡­ it''s almost hatched. Perpetually. Its aura seeps into the mountain, making the climb nearly impossible for anyone unprepared."


    Arthur frowned. "Then why hasn''t anyone claimed it?"


    Syar''s smile returned, sharp and predatory. "Two reasons. First, no one has managed to reach the summit. Not even me. Second, after thousands of years, the egg''s hatching is nothing but a forlorn hope.


    Still, the mountain serves as a test for those who dare to ascend, at least it did back when we first settled here."


    Arthur''s frustration flared. "Not even you reached the peak?"


    "No," Syar admitted, his white teeth flashing in a grin. "I''ve only reached my peak...both on that mountain, and in life."


    Arthur didn''t understand but chose not to press further. Syar''s gaze shifted to him, and something in the man''s expression made his stomach tighten.


    "I''ve decided to accept you as my disciple," Syar declared, standing and brushing off his robes. "Let''s begin."


    Arthur''s jaw tightened. ''This bastard!'' he seethed inwardly. ''He''s the one who approached me, and now he''s acting like he''s doing me a favor!''


    But Syar''s next words silenced his indignation.


    "I wouldn''t want anyone else to die because of your weakness."


    The memory of Officer Skelter''s dying expression flashed unbidden in Arthur''s mind. The guilt he carried felt like a physical weight, and Syar''s words stoked the embers of his determination.


    "What do I need to do?" he asked, his voice quiet but fierce.


    Syar''s smile was approving. "First, we find the weapon that calls to your soul."


    Arthur tilted his head. "The spear?"


    "Perhaps," Syar replied. "But there are many types of polearms. And maybe¡­ your talent lies elsewhere."


    "How do we find out?" Arthur asked warily.


    Syar''s grin widened, and a dark shiver rippled down Arthur''s spine. ''What the hell have I just agreed to?''


    "Follow me."


    The two re-entered the cave, moving deeper into its shadowy depths. The narrow tunnel eventually opened into a vast stone hall illuminated by hovering orbs of flame. The air felt thick, oppressive, as if the room itself were alive.


    Arthur stared in awe. "What is this place?"


    "Your training ground," Syar said simply. "You''ll be trained in the old ways, but at the same time, in a completely new way. I''ve got one month with you so let''s not waste any time."


    Arthur''s unease grew, but he steeled himself. "What''s the first step?"


    Syar''s dark eyes bore into him. "We enter your soul."


    Arthur''s breath hitched. ''Enter my soul?'' He didn''t understand, but the gravity of Syar''s words planted a seed of dread deep within him. "What do you mean?" he asked cautiously.


    Syar leaned against the wall, his rugged face illuminated by the flickering orbs of flame. "Every warrior''s strength lies not in their weapon, but in their soul. Your soul is you, it''s the innermost you. It is your very essence, your core personified. It knows everything about you, it''s the holder of what we call the unconscious mind."


    "What''s that?" Arthur asked, his skepticism barely masked.


    "Your soul knows everything about you that you can''t possibly know. It knows your talents, weaknesses, and everything else. So, it also knows what weapon you''re best accustomed to. What fighting style would suit you the most, it knows everything."


    "How is that even possible?"


    Syar chuckled, a low, ominous sound. "You''ll see soon enough. But first, we need to you to enter your soul space."


    "Isn''t that impossible?" From what he knew, the soul space was something briefly mentioned in relation to those monsters who had or were close to achieving the Fourth Awakening.


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    Syar smiled, "Ordinarily yes. That''s why only masters who have achieved that level develop their own fighting style. But, you''re with me. And that changes everything."


    Those words sounded outlandish. Impossible.


    Yet something about them stirred the embers of hope in his chest. For the first time in a long while, Arthur felt the stirrings of true purpose. His training was about to begin. He would finally have the chance to become strong.


    Arthur knelt within a circle of runes etched into the stone floor, their glow pulsing faintly with an ethereal light. Syar stood a few feet away, his hands outstretched as mana poured out of him.


    The air grew heavier with each word, and the runes flared brighter, casting long, flickering shadows on the cavern walls.


    "What¡­ what''s happening?" Arthur asked, his voice trembling despite his best efforts to sound calm.


    "Quiet," Syar barked, his tone leaving no room for argument. "The barrier between your soul and this realm is thinning. You must focus."


    Arthur swallowed hard and closed his eyes, his breathing shallow. A strange warmth began to spread through his chest, and he felt a pull, as if something deep within him was being drawn to the surface. The sensation was both exhilarating and terrifying.


    Then, without warning, the warmth turned to searing heat. Arthur cried out, his body convulsing as an overwhelming force surged through him.


    When opened his eyes, he was no longer in the hall. He was staring at a mirror, it had no borders, rippling in front of him in an impossible manner.


    He saw himself reflected in it. White hair that had started to become long, with fierce red eyes. His frame was no longer skinny and pathetic, with clear signs of muscle starting to develop around his frame.


    Then the reflection shimmered.


    Arthur''s breath caught.


    The figure before him wasn''t Arthur Gravewalker.


    It was Reshi. Eyes dark, and forlorn with heavy eye bags. Skin pale, and dark hair unkempt. It had been him in the last few weeks of his life.


    When it opened its mouth, the voice wasn''t his. It was deeper, and resonant.


    "Who are you?" it demanded.


    Arthur struggled to form a coherent thought, let alone a response. "I¡­ I don''t know," he admitted, his voice barely audible.


    The voice seemed to consider his words. "Then you are nothing."


    The statement cut deeper than any blade, and Arthur''s chest tightened with a mix of shame and anger. "No," he said, his voice gaining strength. "I''m not nothing. I''m¡ª"


    "Prove it," the voice interrupted, its tone challenging.


    Before Arthur could respond, the visions intensified. He saw himself standing alone on a battlefield, surrounded by enemies. The weight of his spear felt familiar in his hands, but it wasn''t enough. The enemies closed in, their weapons gleaming with deadly intent.


    "Fight," the voice commanded.


    Arthur gritted his teeth and charged, his movements fluid and instinctive. The spear became an extension of his body, responding to him in a way that it never did in the waking world. His movements were fast, and precise, and yet. It hurt.


    Every time he killed it hurt, like a piece of himself was dying. The pain threw him off his rhythm and the brief flood of power and knowledge within him fled.


    "You cannot win," the voice said, almost mockingly. "What will you do?"


    Arthur''s grip tightened on the spear, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "I''ll find a way. A way to save without..."


    "Without what? Hurting people" the voice scoffed, finishing his sentence off for him.


    Arthur closed his eyes, refusing to be a part of this battle any longer. "If I can."


    The voice fell silent for a moment, then spoke again, softer this time. "And what of those you seek to protect?"


    The voice laughed, "So you don''t even know why you fight."


    "I fight to survive. Not to kill", he responded, his voice firm.


    The voice was silent for a long time. Then, finally, it spoke. "Very well."


    When Arthur opened his eyes again, he was no longer on the battlefield. He was standing, nowhere. There was just blackness, a deep, empty, blackness.


    A figure walked forward from the Nothingness. Reshi. His hair was slicked back, his dark eyes firm, and his physique stronger. It was him back when he was a soldier.


    Reshi approached with a spear in its hand. Yet it wasn''t exactly a spear. It seemed to be stuck halfway between a spear and a sword, not unlike the weapon Syar held.


    "Let us see what the will of yours can do" Reshi spoke, his eyes glinting dangerously.


    .......


    Noah gritted his teeth, stepping back just in time to evade the deadly horizontal slash aimed at him.


    Commander Scarlet grinned, her eyes gleaming with amusement. "Almost~" she taunted, her voice dripping with playful menace.


    ''Damn it, she''s crazy,'' Noah thought, his heart pounding. ''Commander Scarlet is far more formidable than I expected.''


    He lunged forward with a straightforward thrust, hoping to break through her guard. But she parried the attack with ease, her blade redirecting his strike with almost casual precision. His stomach dropped as her sword arced through the air, the sharp edge closing in on his face.


    ''She''s going to stop, right?''


    But the blade showed no signs of halting, the metallic gleam growing sharper with each passing second.


    Closer. Closer.


    ''She''s going to stop, right?''


    ////////////////////////////////


    Commander Scarlet deflected Noah''s thrust with practiced ease, her sword spinning back into a horizontal slash aimed at his face. Forcing someone to awaken their affinity was no simple task. It required pushing them into a genuine life-or-death moment. Only on the precipice of mortality could someone unlock the power hidden deep within them¡ªa force just out of their ordinary reach.


    Her blade sliced toward its target, unyielding.


    And then, everything changed.


    Before the strike could land, a powerful force erupted from Noah, an invisible wave that sent her flying back. She collided with the ground hard, a grunt escaping her lips as the impact stole her breath.


    Commander Scarlet pushed herself up, shaking her head to clear the dizziness. She looked up, but more than that, she felt it¡ªa raw, untamed power radiating from Noah, like a storm unleashed. Winds whipped around him, buffeting her. His hair and clothes rippled in the chaotic breeze, but his expression remained eerily blank, as though he were in a trance, consumed by the force now surging through him.


    Commander Scarlet''s lips curled into a smile.


    "Well, well," she murmured to herself. "This is about to get interesting. I spose it wouldn''t do much harm if I played a little more roughly now."

 Chapter 25 - The pain of weakness 3

    Arthur stepped back, his instincts screaming at him to avoid conflict. Yet no matter how far he retreated, the space itself seemed to conspire against him. A spear materialized in his hand, cold and unfamiliar, as if the very world demanded his participation. His distance from Reshi remained unchanged, the inevitability of their confrontation pressing down like an iron weight.


    Reshi, however, advanced without hesitation. His movements were dark, deliberate, and brimming with lethal intent.


    "I don''t want to fight you!" Arthur shouted, desperation lacing his voice.


    A low, chilling chuckle escaped from Reshi¡ªa sound all the more unnerving because it came from Arthur''s own voice, his own form.


    "Let''s see," Reshi said, his tone heavy with mockery, "how badly you want to survive."


    In a blur, Reshi vanished, reappearing right in front of Arthur. Time seemed to freeze, fear clutching Arthur''s chest in a vice. Instinctively, he raised his spear to block, the cold steel trembling in his grip.


    Reshi''s spear shot forward, impossibly fast. The force behind the thrust wasn''t just powerful¡ªit was otherworldly, a devastating blend of precision and brutality. Arthur barely managed to deflect the blow, his spear shuddering under the impact as the sheer force sent him stumbling backward.


    "Already struggling," Reshi sneered, his dark eyes gleaming. "How disappointing, Arthur."


    Despite the sting of his words, Arthur found himself smiling¡ªan expression born of defiance. "This bastard," he muttered, "is really pissing me off."


    Arthur shifted his stance, gripping the spear tighter. "If this is my soul space, then I can''t kill anyone, right? Which means..." His voice hardened, his grin widening. "Nothing''s stopping me from fighting back."


    With a sudden burst of energy, Arthur lunged forward, feinting a thrust and transitioning into a sharp upward slash.


    Reshi sidestepped with infuriating ease. "Pathetic," he spat, his voice dripping with disdain.


    Before Arthur could recover, Reshi adjusted his stance and executed the same blindingly fast thrust. This time, Arthur had no chance to react. The spear pierced through him, pain blooming in his midsection as he collapsed to the ground, gasping.


    Reshi loomed over him, his face twisted in anger. Somehow, that sight made Arthur smile again, even as blood spilled from his lips.


    "Are you not afraid of dying?" Reshi asked, his voice low, almost curious.


    Arthur coughed, stifling a bitter laugh. "Afraid of dying?" he echoed. "In every damned world, I''ve risked my life. When I was you, we fought every day. Any one of those bastards could''ve killed us. But they didn''t. And now, it''s the same. Every day, death waits for me¡ªa stray arrow, an unlucky mistake, even an accident from an ally.


    "But I haven''t died. I survived." His voice grew stronger, fueled by the fire of his conviction. "And I''ll survive this too."


    Reshi''s expression darkened, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Why?"


    Arthur''s gaze locked onto Reshi''s, his reply heavy with spite. "Because I can. And if I can survive, I will. I''m not going to die just because this world wants me to. I''ll survive out of sheer spite if I have to, but I will live. If only because no one fucking want''s me to!"


    Reshi knelt beside him, his dark eyes narrowing. "Even if that means killing others?"


    Arthur paused, the weight of the question settling over him. He realized, without thinking, that he had already resolved this conflict within himself sometime during their short fight. The answer was clear.


    "If I have to," he said softly, "only if I have to."


    Reshi stood, nodding slowly. "That''ll do¡ªfor now."


    Arthur closed his eyes, the pain fading as his surroundings dissolved into nothingness.


    When he opened them again, he was back in the cavernous hall. Syar sat opposite him, watching intently, his expression unreadable.


    Arthur staggered to his feet, a grin spreading across his face. "I did it," he said, his voice brimming with satisfaction.


    Syar exhaled sharply, a rare crack in his composed demeanor. "I''d expect nothing less," he said with a faint smirk. After a pause, he continued, "Do you know of the weapon? And of your spear style?"


    Arthur frowned, the memory of Reshi''s weapon clear in his mind¡ªa hybrid of spear and sword, unlike anything he''d seen before. It was the same weapon Syar wielded.


    "Yeah," Arthur said slowly, "it''s like the weapon you''re holding."


    Syar''s smirk froze, his eyes narrowing. Then he burst into laughter, the sound echoing off the walls. "Of course it is."


    Arthur raised an eyebrow. "What''s that supposed to mean?"


    "It means, my dear disciple," Syar said, his grin almost manic, "fate wanted us together."


    Arthur blinked. "Fate? Have you lost it?"


    "Come!" Syar bellowed, his voice brimming with vigor. "Show me the spear style you learned from your soul!"


    Arthur hesitated. Reshi hadn''t taught him anything¡ªat least, not directly. But then he remembered the way Reshi had moved, the deliberate precision of his stances and strikes. As if he had wanted Arthur to learn.


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    "Can I borrow your weapon, master?"


    Syar shook his head firmly. "It''s mine." He disappeared into the shadows, returning with a crudely carved wooden stick, shaped to mimic the hybrid weapon.


    Arthur caught it awkwardly.


    "Go on," Syar urged, his eyes gleaming with expectation. "Show me."


    Arthur closed his eyes, summoning the memory of Reshi''s movements. Each strike, each shift in stance replayed in his mind with perfect clarity. The thrust, the mana flow¡ªit all felt imprinted on his very soul.


    He began slowly, his form shaky at first. But as he repeated the motions, his body adjusted, each movement becoming sharper, more natural.


    Then, with a sharp breath, Arthur thrust forward with all his might, channeling every ounce of mana he could muster.


    The air in front of him rippled, a visible shockwave radiating from the strike.


    Syar''s grin widened. "Yes," he said softly, almost to himself. "This will do nicely."


    Opening his eyes, he saw a system notification pop up in front of him.


    [ Falling Sun Style learned]


    Arthur''s eyes widened. He''d done it.


    "Status."


    [ NAME: ARTHUR GRAVEWALKER


    AGE: 14 YEARS OLD


    RACE: HUMAN


    CLASS:


    SPEARMAN: LVL2 (Basic) (Imperial ***) (11%)


    LVL1 (Basic) (Falling Sun style) (1.0%)


    SKILLS :


    MANA BOOST (lvl1)


    AURA : LOCKED


    BLESSINGS:


    Hades Will -


    Sun''s Concept -


    AFFINITIES : BLOOD, FIRE, EARTH


    STATS -


    RANK F+


    STRENGTH: F+


    AGILITY: F+


    STAMINA: E-


    INTELLIGENCE: F+


    MANA CAPACITY: F


    CHARM : F- ]


    Falling sun style he mouthed. Then he grinned. "Falling sun style."


    The system screen in front of him shifted.


    [ Falling Sun style (****) (LVL 1 ¨C 1.0%)


    First move ¨C Shooting star : Proficiency (5.0%)


    Second move ???


    ????? ]


    ''A four star style? That was a step under a legendary style, something usually only found in the vaults of greater houses. And yet, he had something just a step under.''


    Syar snorted, seeing Arthur''s expression. "How is it brat? Do you trust me now?"


    Arthur dismissed the screen, focusing on Sy- no, his master.


    Then he grinned.


    "Of course, master."


    Noah lunged forward, his boots kicking up dust as he closed the distance between himself and Commander Scarlet. There was no fort. No duty, nor mission. Only the fight, him and her.


    "You think you''ve grown strong?" Scarlet taunted, her voice carrying effortlessly over the screaming wind. Her eyes burned with a predatory glint. "Show me. Prove it!"


    Noah gritted his teeth, feeling the sharp sting of her words, but he refused to rise to the bait. Instead, he focused on the rhythm of his breathing. His newfound ability, Wind Blast¡ªwas a tempest waiting to be unleashed. The key was timing.


    Scarlet darted forward, her sword a whirlwind of slashes and thrusts. Noah barely managed to deflect the first strike with his own sword, the impact vibrating through his arms. She didn''t give him a chance to recover, switching into a low strike aiming for his legs.


    He twisted, narrowly avoiding the slice, and countered with a sweeping strike of his own. She parried effortlessly, her movements fluid and precise.


    "Too slow!" she hissed, her foot snapping out in a brutal kick. It connected with his chest, sending him skidding backward.


    Noah stumbled but didn''t fall. His lungs burned, and his chest ached, but he planted his feet firmly. Scarlet was relentless, already closing the gap again. He had no time to think, only react.


    He slammed the butt of his spear into the ground and thrust his free hand forward. The air around him seemed to shift, a sudden gust swirling with unnatural force. "Wind Blast!" he roared.


    A torrent of wind exploded from his palm, a concentrated force that barreled toward Scarlet.


    The blast struck her like a battering ram, and though she managed to hold her ground, her footing faltered for a moment. The force pushed her back several paces, her crimson hair whipping violently in the gale.


    "Not bad," she admitted, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. "But you don''t need to scream the name of your skill to activate it."


    Noah didn''t reply. His mind raced, calculating his next move. Wind Blast was powerful, but it drained him quickly. He couldn''t afford to rely on it too much. Instead, he focused on his footwork, circling her cautiously, his spear held at the ready.


    Scarlet lunged, her sword slicing through the air with lethal precision. Noah ducked under the first strike and spun away from the second, using the momentum to deliver a sweeping kick to her side. She blocked it easily, throwing him back off balance, causing him to collide to the floor heavily.


    Commander Scarlet stood over him, her dark eyes approving. "For your first day you''ve done well. Very well. Let''s give you some drills to do, and then you can rest up."


    Noah groaned in reply, head spinning from colliding to the floor so heavily. ''This isn''t going to be fun'' he sighed inwardly in resignation.

 Chapter 26 - The pain of strength

    Arthur gritted his teeth as he scaled the jagged face of the mountain, each handhold a fresh challenge against his numbing fingers. His muscles burned with exertion, every fiber of his being screaming at him to stop, but he ignored the pain. The icy wind cut into his exposed skin, and his lungs felt like they were breathing shards of glass. Yet none of those pains stopped him.


    Failure was not an option.


    Hours passed, the sun''s light dipping into hues of crimson and gold. His hands, raw and bleeding, clawed at the final ridge. With one last surge of strength, he pulled himself over the edge and collapsed onto the snow-dusted plateau. His chest heaved as he sucked in the frigid air, each breath a small victory.


    "Haaahhhh, fuuuuck man, that was hard," he muttered, his voice hoarse.


    He forced himself to sit up and gazed at the breathtaking expanse of jagged peaks below. The world stretched out in all directions, a sea of mountains painted in the soft glow of twilight. A wave of pride surged through him, warming his battered body.


    He had done it. After two weeks of relentless failure, of punishment laps and grueling climbs, he had finally reached the summit. He hadn''t failed.


    "Not this time," he whispered to himself, a small smile tugging at his lips. The peace of the cold, gentle air was a welcome reprieve from the chaos of battlefields drenched in blood and fire. Up here, amidst the stillness, it felt as though his soul was finally catching its breath.


    "You did well," came a voice, soft yet sharp, from behind him.


    Arthur didn''t flinch. He''d grown used to his master''s uncanny ability to appear without a sound. "Thank you, Master," he replied, turning to face Syar.


    Syar''s sharp features twisted into a smirk, the kind that always spelled trouble. "But not well enough. 100 laps."


    Arthur''s face fell. "Bu¡ªwha¡ª" he stammered. "But I did it!"


    "Yes," Syar said, feigning contemplation, "but you were meant to be here five minutes ago."


    Arthur''s jaw dropped. "You never told me that!"


    Syar''s expression turned to mock confusion. "Didn''t I? Ah, my mistake. Fine, let''s make it 50 laps then. I''m feeling generous."


    Arthur rose to his feet, muttering darkly under his breath as he stumbled toward the descending path. Syar''s ears caught fragments of his grumbling: "One day¡­ when I''m older¡­"


    Syar pretended not to hear, though a faint smile touched his lips.


    (Syar''s POV)


    Leaning against a jagged boulder, Syar watched as Arthur''s figure disappeared down the winding path. The boy''s stubborn determination never failed to impress him. Arthur''s protests were almost ritualistic by now, more habit than genuine defiance. But beneath the complaints lay an unyielding spirit¡ªa spirit Syar knew he didn''t have much time to shape.


    "He''s a strong kid," Syar thought, pride mingling with a twinge of regret. "But there''s still so much left to do."


    With a sigh, Syar vanished from the mountaintop, leaving only the faintest ripple in the air.


    By the time Arthur staggered into the cavernous hall that served as their training ground, his legs felt like lead. Each step was a battle against the searing pain in his muscles. He groaned as he collapsed onto the stone floor, the cold surface doing little to soothe his exhaustion.


    Syar stood at the center of the hall, holding two weapons. One was his own infamous half-spear, half-sword hybrid that seemed to hum with latent energy. The other¡­ Arthur''s breath hitched as he recognized it. Why wouldn''t he? He had used that weapon himself, found amidst a battlefield of blood and fire.


    ''Ascension''.


    The weapon was a masterpiece: a black blade etched with intricate white runes that pulsed faintly, as though alive. It radiated an aura of raw power, demanding reverence. Arthur''s eyes widened as Syar approached, the weapon extended toward him.


    "Do you like this weapon?" Syar asked, his tone casual, though his eyes gleamed with amusement.


    Arthur hesitated. "I¡­ I can hold it?"


    "You should hope so. It''s yours."


    Arthur''s jaw dropped. "Mine? What do you mean?"


    "Consider it a reward," Syar said with a shrug. "Thanason''s orders. You''re a criminal, so you can''t get promoted, but for your role in the last battle, you''ve earned this."


    Arthur stared at the weapon in disbelief. When he finally took it into his hands, a surge of protectiveness and pride washed over him. Yet, beneath the elation, a pang of sadness lingered.


    "I can''t," he said quietly, his voice heavy.


    "And why not?" Syar''s brow arched.


    "It''s a spear," Arthur replied, his tone almost apologetic. "My weapon is more like yours."


    For a moment, Syar stared at him before bursting into laughter. "That''s your concern? Oh, you poor, simple fool. This isn''t just any spear. It''s a rare relic. It can soulbind."


    Arthur''s eyes widened as recognition dawned. Soulbinding¡ªthe process where a rare weapon reshaped itself to suit its wielder''s style. It could be summoned and dismissed at will, bonded for life. All it needed was a name.


    A glowing notification appeared before him:


    [WEAPON ''ASCENSION'' RECOGNIZED. WEAPON IS A RARE GRADE RELIC. DOES USER WISH TO SOULBIND TO THIS WEAPON?]


    "Yes," Arthur said without hesitation.


    [PLEASE NAME YOUR WEAPON _________]


    Arthur froze. Naming things had never been his strong suit. "Uh¡­ Darkstick?"


    [NAME ''DARKSTICK'' REJECTED. PLEASE NAME YOUR WEAPON _________]


    Arthur groaned. Of course, it wasn''t that simple. He thought back to the story his father used to tell, about the boy who flew too close to the sun, a falling sun. It seemed to match his own spear style''s name, ''the falling sun.''


    "Ikarus," he declared.


    [NAME ''IKARUS'' REGISTERED. ATTEMPTING TO SOULBIND¡­]


    The weapon pulsed in his hands, glowing brighter until the light consumed it entirely. When the radiance faded, the weapon had transformed. The black blade was now a deep crimson, the white runes along its surface glowing with new intensity. The spear''s design mirrored Syar''s hybrid weapon, blending elegance with lethal efficiency.


    Arthur stared at Ikarus, his scarlet eyes reflecting the weapon''s glow. It felt alive in his grip, as though it recognized him.


    "Dismiss it," Syar ordered, snapping Arthur out of his reverie.


    Reluctantly, Arthur focused on the weapon. It dissolved into a flurry of light, disappearing into him. For a moment, he could feel its presence within him, a connection unlike anything he''d experienced before.


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    "Let''s see if you''re worthy of it," Syar said, tossing him a crudely made training spear. He took one for himself, dismissing his own weapon. "Come."


    Arthur''s grin widened. The pain in his body forgotten, he lunged forward, ready to prove himself once more.


    Arthur lunged forward, wielding his spear with the Imperial style Syar had been drilling into him. On the battlefield, he had instinctively adapted the Imperial sword style into one for the spear, but under Syar''s strict tutelage, his progress had accelerated dramatically.


    He would''ve preferred to perfect his Fallen Sun style, but Reshi had only taught him the first move within the soul space. Syar had forbidden him from returning there until he grew stronger.


    For now, Arthur''s goal was clear: to break through from F rank to E rank. At the start of the novel the MC was already at D rank, so he needed to be at least closer to there to be considered one of the stronger students in the school.


    In this world, simply improving one''s attributes to E- wasn''t enough. Without undergoing the rank test, the difference was negligible. The test¡ªa process as random as it was grueling¡ªdetermined everything.


    ''Knowing my damn luck, I''ll probably end up fighting a deity or something,'' Arthur sighed inwardly. If only luck were a measurable attribute.


    Syar parried Arthur''s attacks effortlessly, moving with the smallest dodges and redirections. He never exerted himself, but Arthur was in full stride, his spear spinning between slashes and thrusts, the butt of the weapon whirling in intricate patterns. Yet no matter how fast or clever Arthur''s strikes, Syar met them with almost contemptuous ease.


    Then, Syar struck back. A single thrust, executed with the same Imperial spear style, exposed the gulf between them. The precision and power in Syar''s move made Arthur''s efforts seem like the fumbling of a clumsy child, despite the fact they both were using the same style.


    Arthur barely evaded the blow, darting backward. He muttered under his breath, "Alright, then."


    Shifting his stance, Arthur channeled mana into his weapon, invoking the Fallen Sun''s first movement¡ªShooting Star.


    The air seemed to ripple as his mana drained, focusing into the spear. With blinding speed, his weapon surged forward. The sheer force and precision of the attack startled Syar, whose eyes widened slightly.


    But in the next instant, Syar parried, moving faster than before.


    Before Arthur could recover, Syar stepped forward in a blur and punched him with his free hand.


    The impact hurled Arthur across the room, crashing him into the far wall. The resounding crack was followed by a faint curse from Syar: "Shit." Darkness claimed Arthur.


    Syar stood over Arthur''s crumpled form, guilt flickering across his face. He hadn''t meant to hit the boy so hard. The power behind the Fallen Sun''s first move had caught him off guard, forcing him to react with more force than intended.


    Arthur''s spear style was dangerous¡ªunnervingly so. Syar couldn''t place it among any known techniques. Most unique styles were adaptations of established forms, tailored for their wielders. But Arthur''s was different. The way mana coiled and spun around his strikes, enhancing their lethality, was brutal and unfamiliar. A style made purely for killing.


    Lifting Arthur''s unconscious body, Syar muttered, "Really, boy, you faint far too often. At this rate, you''ll spend most of your life asleep."


    Despite himself, a small smile tugged at his lips. He was beginning to understand, just a little, why James had done what he had.


    This boy... he was truly something special. It wasn''t in his skills, nor styles. It was his mentality that was unique. No doubt Arthur would wake up the next day, disregarding the fact he''d been knocked out, and continue with equal, if not more vigour in his training.


    ''Maybe...I was wrong James Skelter. Maybe you had the right of it all along.'' He wasn''t ready to accept that yet, but maybe. It was a possibility.


    ¡­.......


    Noah faced off against Commander Scarlet. Her strikes came fast and unrelenting. He ducked under one blow, parried another, and sent an upwards wind blast, hoping to unbalance her. But Scarlet anticipated it, pivoting to the side and countering with a sharp kick to his chin.


    Noah''s equilibrium wavered, and he stumbled. Desperate to recover, he closed his eyes and focused.


    ''Calm.''


    Feeling the winds around him, he summoned a blast beneath him, halting his fall. Leaping back, he narrowly avoided the blade that came down on where he had stood moments before.


    "Sense," he whispered, activating his awareness. The winds became his eyes, revealing the disturbances caused by her movements.


    Noah''s parries became precise, his dodges seamless. He felt every shift in the air, predicting Scarlet''s strikes. But there was a flaw in relying on Sense: it overwhelmed him if he used it alongside his vision. Forced to close his eyes, he relied entirely on the wind.


    Then, a sudden stillness.


    ''What''s she planning?'' Noah wondered. The winds grew chaotic, disturbances coming from every direction.


    "Shit!" he yelled, his eyes snapping open instinctively. Yet he saw nothing¡ªno attacks, no threats.


    ''It''s a feint!'' he realized, but it was too late. Scarlet swept his legs out from under him, sending him crashing to the ground once again.


    Commander Scarlet grinned, clearly reveling in her victory. "You rely on that skill too much, Noah," she said, offering a hand.


    Groaning, he took it and hauled himself to his feet. "Noted."


    She clapped him on the shoulder. "We''ll call it a day. Rest up."


    As she walked away, Noah asked, "When''s Arthur coming back?"


    "Two weeks, give or take. Better keep training unless you want him to kick your ass. Again~." Her teasing tone lit a spark of determination in him.


    Gritting his teeth, Noah muttered, "We''ll see about that."


    Despite the rivalry, he couldn''t wait to see Arthur again. These past two weeks had been grueling, with General Thanason focused on integrating the rebellion rather than mobilizing forces. Noah had noticed rebel officials coming and going, but the specifics didn''t concern him.


    All he cared about was getting stronger.


    ''One year, eleven months, and two weeks,'' he reminded himself. That was the time until he could fulfill his promise and spread his father''s ashes.


    ''One year, eleven months, and two weeks.''

 Chapter 27- Rank up test

    Arthur Gravewalker opened his stat screen with a yawn, his tired eyes scanning the glowing letters.


    NAME: ARTHUR GRAVEWALKER


    AGE: 14 YEARS OLD


    RACE: HUMAN


    CLASS:


    SPEARMAN: LVL5 (Basic) (Imperial)


    LVL1 (Basic) (Falling Sun style (12.0%)


    SKILLS :


    MANA BOOST (lvl2) (45%)


    AURA : LOCKED


    BLESSINGS:


    Hades Will -


    Sun''s Concept -


    AFFINITIES : BLOOD, EARTH (locked)


    Fire (lvl1) 10%


    STATS -


    RANK F+ -------------> Rank up test available


    STRENGTH: E-


    AGILITY: E-


    STAMINA: E-


    INTELLIGENCE: E-


    MANA CAPACITY: E-


    CHARM : F


    [ Falling Sun style (****) (LVL 1 ¨C 4.0%)


    First move ¨C Shooting star : Proficiency Lvl1 (35.0%)


    Second move ???


    ????? ]


    Tomorrow marked the end of his grueling training under Master Syar. Dawn would bring his return to Fort Lanai, where General Thanason was preparing the next step in their campaign.


    He dismissed the screen with a swipe, flexing his sore muscles. He had been holding off on the Rank Up Test. He wanted to do it and the very end of his training when he''d be the strongest. The tests were said to be as varied as fate itself¡ªsome a mere formality, others treacherous and strange. It was common for the rank up test to be easy, like ticking a box or something.


    But then again.


    Knowing his luck. That''s what he was going to get. No doubt about it.


    With a deep breath, Arthur sank into a meditative posture, feeling the mana in his veins hum and flow. It soothed him, like a warm river coursing through his body, sharpening his focus. Slowly, his consciousness began to fade, swallowed by the rhythm of mana and the weight of anticipation.


    [ ENTER RANK UP TEST. Y/N]


    ''Yes.''


    When Arthur opened his eyes, he was no longer in the cavern.


    Instead, he found himself sitting in a small wooden boat, rocking gently on dark, glassy water. The air was thick with an unnatural stillness, broken only by the faint strumming of a strange instrument. Across from him sat a man¡ªif he could be called that.


    The figure''s weathered face looked as though it had been carved from ancient stone, each wrinkle a story of hardship and time. His grey eyes were lifeless yet piercing, like they could see straight through Arthur''s soul.


    Draped in simple robes, the man strummed a stringed instrument¡ªpart lute, part guitar¡ªwith long, spindly fingers. The melody was haunting, a tune that seemed older than the stars themselves, but at the same time, it was jaunty like folk music.


    Arthur stared, feeling both drawn and repelled by the man''s presence. There was an undeniable weight to him, like standing before the edge of a bottomless chasm.


    "Do you want to hear a story?" the man asked, his voice low and heavy, as though each word carried centuries of sorrow.


    Arthur hesitated. "A... story?" ''This is a bit of an odd test.?'' He felt a strange sinking feeling that had nothing to do with the rocking boat.


    The man smiled faintly. It wasn''t comforting. It was a smile that hinted at secrets, at truths Arthur wasn''t ready for.


    "Yes," the man said softly. "Three, in fact. I''ll let you choose which one you wish to hear."


    Arthur frowned, unease curling in his chest. "What kind of stories?"


    "The first," the man began, "is about a friend. The second is about a wolf in the snow. The third... is about a criminal who dies."


    Arthur frowned, "None of these stories sound too interesting,"


    The man laughed, "Quite so! No, nothing important is ever as priceless on first inspection as it is after you know its stories."


    "So, these stories are all priceless?"


    The man turned his gaze onto Arthur, and he felt trapped under their profound energy. "Maybe not to you, however even you wouldn''t have reached this far without them, hmmm?"


    Arthur looked at him confused. "Uhh, sure?"


    "So which story do you want to listen to?"


    Arthur thought for a moment, none of these stories sounded too particularly interesting. ''Hmmm.''


    Yet for some reason, the story of the criminal who died drew him in the most. It felt the most relatable.


    "The one of the criminal who dies."


    The man nodded, "Yes, I thought that might be of interest to your soul."


    Arthur frowned, his confusion deepening. "What do you mean?"


    "Storier."


    "Storier?"


    "Yes, storier, that''s what you may call me."


    "How does this story affect me, Storier?"


    The man nodded, "Wait and find out, it''s never good to skip ahead a couple of chapters eh. It might seem nice at first, but at the end, you''ll always be left with regret. So be patient alright?"


    "You know, boy, I''ve never been a good story teller, despite my moniker." He chuckled to himself, his eyes glinting with sadness, "I''ve always been more of a reader, than an author. So, bear with it."


    The Storier leaned forward to pluck a single, resonant note on his instrument. The sound rippled through the air like a stone dropped into water. Arthur felt himself growing dizzy, his vision darkening as the Storier spoke once more.


    "In this story, watch, and remember: the ink of the story needs to stain the soul, otherwise you''ll never have art."


    Before Arthur could reply, the darkness swallowed him whole.


    .......


    When I opened my eyes, I was somewhere else entirely.


    The cold hit first, cutting through my ragged clothes like a knife. Around me, towering buildings rose into a grey, smog-filled sky. The streets were filthy, paved with cracked stone and littered with debris. People bustled past me, their faces hard and indifferent, as though I didn''t exist.


    And maybe I didn''t.


    I looked down at my hands¡ªsmall, dirt-covered, trembling from hunger. These weren''t my hands. This wasn''t my body. My heart raced. My mind felt fractured, like trying to piece together a broken mirror.


    My name is James, I reminded myself. Or... was it? The memory felt hazy, like a dream slipping away. I was sure I was someone else. Someone different.


    However soon reality set in mercilessly


    '' I''m James. I live on these streets. I beg, I steal. That''s all there is.''


    My stomach growled, a hollow ache that gnawed at my insides. I rubbed it absentmindedly, eyes scanning the street for scraps. Maine Street¡ªthe rich side of town. The perfect place to play on guilt and sympathy.


    "James," I muttered under my breath, trying to ground myself.


    ''I need to eat. I need to survive. That''s all that matters.''


    The days blurred together, each one the same. Begging, scrounging, avoiding the gangs that prowled the alleys.


    Not all of the people who lived on the streets were beggars. As always, groups formed. And in groups, beggars suddenly find the courage to become a little more. Instead of asking for money, they''d demand it. And no wasn''t an answer a person could say and walk away.


    "Lucky bastards" I sighed enviously, turning into one of the side alleys where I could sleep peacefully.


    The night was cold, colder than most, and curling into a ball to maintain heat no longer seemed like enough to stave away death. But I had different heat keeping me warm. Not fire, nor heaters or anything else.


    Rage.


    A pure unfiltered hatred of the world. I hated everyone, anyone. Hated the fact that my life was like this. I had done nothing to deserve this.


    To be abandoned by my parents, I had done nothing.


    "No", I whispered. "You did do something James. You were born."


    I stayed out of sight, kept my head down, and tried to ignore the laughter of the street kids.


    And then I met him.


    It happened on a cold night, colder than most. I was curled up in an alley, shivering and cursing the world under my breath. That''s when the boys found me. A gang of them¡ªsix or seven, all lean and hungry-looking, with eyes that burned brighter than their gaunt faces. It was a haunting look.


    "Is he dead?" one of them muttered, prodding me with a stick.


    "Nah, just cold," another said.


    "Then he''s alive," the leader chimed in. He stepped forward, a boy my age, with fiery red hair and a grin that seemed to light up his dark, calculating eyes. "What''s your name?"


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    I hesitated. The gangs rarely hunted beggars, not because of any reason for working together. It was more that it simply wasn''t worth it. Then again, there were always those who just like picking on those weaker than them


    "James."


    "James, huh?" He crouched down, his smile widening. There was something magnetic about him, something that made it impossible to look away. "I''m Red. You hungry?"


    He held out a piece of bread. My stomach growled loudly, but I didn''t reach for it. I knew better than to trust kindness.


    Red''s grin turned into a smirk. "Smart. You don''t trust me. Good. But if you want this bread, you''ll have to trust me eventually. Join us."


    "Why?" I asked bluntly.


    He laughed, the sound sharp and careless. "Why not? We look out for each other. It''s better than starving alone, isn''t it?"


    I hesitated, my eyes darting between the bread and his face. He saw my struggle and leaned closer, lowering his voice.


    "Tell me something James, are you angry?"


    I looked up at him silently.


    "I am", Red gestured to himself. "We all are. At the world, at all of those bastards that had left us here", his voice dropped, brimming with a furious intensity. "Aren''t you angry James?"


    I nodded, Red had mirrored everything that I''d felt ever since being abandoned. I could see, looking in those dark eyes, Red understood.


    "Yes", I whispered softly.


    " Stick with me, and I''ll make sure that anger counts for something." He proffered the bread again.


    The hunger won. I took the bread, sinking my mouth into it.


    Weeks passed, and I became one of them. Red''s crew wasn''t like the others. They didn''t just survive¡ªthey seemed to thrive, making this hell hole into something that could even be considered enjoyable. Red was the heart of it all. Charismatic, cunning, and fearless, he could turn even the coldest night into something almost bearable.


    It was nice. Being part of a group.


    When we had forced robbed someone, I had been hesitant at first, receding to the back of the group. It felt wrong robbing someone, as if I was crossing some imaginary line.


    Yet Red came later that day and spoke to me.


    His eyes glinted with an unusual fierceness.


    "Look James, I won''t force you to do anything you don''t want to" he had said one day, taking me to the side.


    I had been silent all day since robbing the man, and he''d noticed. He always noticed when one of us was unhappy.


    I nodded silently, still not saying anything.


    "But I want you to understand", he continued, "That it''s not wrong what we''re doing. We''ve been given nothing, dumped on the roads for no reason, living this life, because of them. They left us here, and let us beg here, and die here during the winters. You''ve got no reason to feel sorry for them, they won''t for us."


    I nodded again, meeting his eyes this time. His anger mirrored my own, the anger at the world. A blind, hatred.


    "But then again", he sighed, "I won''t make you do it."


    "Really?" I asked.


    He smiled. "You''re part of my crew James, that''s for life. I won''t ever make you do stuff you don''t want to."


    He placed his hand on my shoulder, before turning away.


    "I''ll do it" I whispered softly.


    Red turned around, a smile on his face. "Okay."


    .........


    Months had gone by now


    I joined Red on another raid. I used to feel bad about them when I was younger, but I understand now. It was us or them. And any beggar that chose them would inevitably die.


    A couple of weeks ago we found a sharp metal stick lying on the road. I had no idea where it''d come from, but I took it, giving it to Red. He had loved it, brandishing around like he was some knight.


    I ran around with them, on another raid, as we looked for someone easy to rob. Red already knew who it was going to be. He would scout out targets days before, in order to make sure the robbery went off without a hitch.


    Today was an old man. He was a librarian, from what Red had told me, he seemed ordinary enough. There was a small side of me that felt bad for robbing an old man, but it was either you were to be a predator or food.


    And I''ll never be food.


    "Oy old man" called Tanner, barricading the side street. "Can you lend me some money?"


    I smiled, blocking the other side of the street with the others.


    The old man stopped, worried.


    Red laughed, his voice cold. "Come on old man, I know you got something. Why not share?"


    The old man stuttered, panicking.


    Ferra stepped forward, kicking the back of the man''s knees, causing him to fall to the ground.


    We laughed, taking a sick pleasure in his pain.


    "O-okay" the man stuttered. "Here, take it, have it all." He proffered his wallet. I raised my eyebrows.


    Many tried to resist because of our age, it wasn''t often to find someone proffering their entire wallet.


    Red smiled coldly. "Pleasure doing business." He stepped forward, metal stick in hand.


    He whistled, "Bloody hell old man, you ain''t too far from being one of us" as he inspected the wallet.


    "I''ll tell you what, if you do become a beggar, come with me." Red''s eyes glinted coldly.


    I hated when he acted like this. I hated those people as well, but, Red, he always seemed too angry. Always willing to take it a step further.


    "I''ll be sure to show you the sights!" He continued, gesturing around the dirty streets as if it were some grand city. The rest of the group joined in with the laughter.


    The man slowly got up to his feet. "L-look, I run a centre near here. We can provide hot food, and clean water if you want it."


    Red''s face turned ugly and he kicked at the old man, causing him to fall back onto the floor heavily.


    "You think we need your charity", he snarled. "We''ll take what we want, I don''t need your, shitty. Fucking. Help." He punctuated each word with a kick.


    "H-hey Red" I called, "Calm down." This felt wrong. All too wrong. That anger in Red''s eyes seemed to be growing, and growing. He''d always been a dangerous person, even though I hated to admit it..


    He seemed to calm down a little after seeing me. Grunting in disgust, he turned away from the man.


    As he did so, I saw the old man''s hand grip Red''s arm, pulling him back. "I can hel-"


    Before he could finish, Red had turned around, obviously believing the man was trying to attack him from behind.


    Before anyone knew what was happening, the man collapsed to the floor. Blood poured from a wound in his stomach, where a metal stick lay embedded into his body.


    There was silence for a moment. My heart dropped. He had done it. Red had finally gone too far.


    Then the silence shattered into panic, as every single person apart from Red and myself ran for their lives. Scared.


    Red and I stood there, dumbstruck.


    He turned to me. His face was pale, dark eyes wide.


    "Run," I muttered.


    He flinched but didn''t move.


    "Run!!!" I screamed.


    That finally seemed to push through the fog, and his legs finally kicked into motion, as he ran as fast as he could out of the side street.


    I moved to follow him, but something stopped me. Looking behind, I saw the old man. He was still alive, his dark eyes fixed on me.


    I wanted to run. Soon someone would find out he was missing, and he''d be found. If I didn''t move, I''d be caught.


    But I just couldn''t.


    Instead, I calmly walked back to him, and sat down. His stomach was bleeding badly. I tried putting my hands over the wound, to stop the blood.


    It didn''t work.


    "Run."


    Huh. Looking down, I saw the old man, his mouth moving slowly as he fought to say the words.


    "Run."


    My heart took another plunge. The old man''s final moments, he was trying to save me.


    "Shut up," I muttered, tears blurring my vision. "You''re not dying. Not here. Not like this."


    Taking off my dirty shirt, I tried to plug the bleeding with it, but even that never worked. It didn''t stop me trying, as I used all my might to stop the bleeding.


    "HELP" I screamed, trying to get someone''s attention. A part of me told me to run. To get away before it was too late.


    But I didn''t. I couldn''t.

 Chapter 28 - Rank up test 2

    Cadet Thanason strolled down the bustling city street, his retinue of advisors and city officials trailing behind him like a silent tide. This was yet another one of those exhausting, hollow displays of unity¡ªwhere he, the son of a Lord in the Dukedom, had to pretend to be just another citizen.


    It was tedious. A farce.


    If Father stopped shirking his responsibilities, he wouldn''t have to be here.


    "Lord Th¡ª"


    "Cadet," he interrupted sharply, his golden eyes narrowing. "I''ve joined the army. Call me Cadet or use my first name."


    A pause. The official shifted awkwardly. "Uh¡­ what is your first name, sir?"


    Thanason sighed. "Just call me Cadet."


    The official coughed, clearly eager to move past the awkward moment. "Cadet Thanason, we should pass through the Begging Quarter before making our way back."


    Thanason nodded curtly. "Fine. But let''s move quickly¡ªI need to return to base."


    The group pressed forward. The air in the city was thick with the mingling scents of bread, sweat, and unwashed bodies. Thanason barely noticed. He had long since learned to ignore the squalor of the lower districts.


    Then, a scream shattered the air.


    A child''s voice.


    Panic. Desperation.


    Thanason froze for a fraction of a second before his instincts took over. Mana flared within him, raw power surging through his limbs. His attendants barely had time to react before he was gone, the cobbled street blurring as he sprinted toward the source of the cry.


    His body moved before his mind could catch up. The scream had been real. It had been close.


    He found himself in a narrow side street. The stench of blood was sharp in the air.


    A boy knelt beside the still-warm corpse of an old man, a rag pressed against the wound in a futile attempt to stem the bleeding.


    Thanason inhaled sharply. His stomach twisted. He hated seeing blood.


    Training exercises and battlefield drills had not prepared him for the sheer stillness of a corpse. For the glassy, vacant stare.


    He approached carefully, keeping his tone measured. "Leave him, lad. He''s already gone."


    The boy''s dark eyes locked onto his. There was no fear in them. Only defiance.


    "How did you know him?" Thanason asked, keeping his voice level.


    The boy swallowed hard. "I¡­ I killed him."


    Silence. It was a heavy silence. Thanason''s blood ran cold.


    Then, without hesitation, he moved.


    One moment, the boy was kneeling. The next, he was on the ground, arms pinned


    behind his back, a knee pressed between his shoulder blades.


    The boy yelped, more out of surprise than pain.


    "You understand what happens now, don''t you?" Thanason asked, more curious than angry.


    "Yeah," the boy grunted. "I''m gonna die."


    Thanason tilted his head. "Then why didn''t you run?"


    The boy hesitated.


    Then, voice barely above a whisper, he said, "Because I killed him."


    ..........


    James 1st person POV


    They put me in a cell.


    The iron bars were rusted at the edges. The stone floor beneath me was damp and rough, but I''d slept on worse.


    Tomorrow, I die.


    I was tried in record time. Guilty, of course. They believed my story, because who would expect a beggar to care about another human life?


    Beggars don''t protect people.


    Beggars survive.


    I hadn''t spoken a word about Red or the others. Because, in a way¡­ I really had killed that man.


    I let it happen. I knew it was wrong.


    I could''ve stopped Red, really tried to stop them. I could''ve said no. But I let myself get swept along. And now, I was paying the price.


    I wasn''t angry. I wasn''t scared.


    My life had never been happy. It had never been meant to be happy.


    But at least, it had been short. Unhappy and short was better than unhappy and long.


    I heard the footsteps before I saw them. Heavy boots, metal clanking. Another prisoner, maybe.


    I sighed, rubbing the exhaustion from my face. "''Bout fucking time," I muttered.


    "Been here a week. Least they can do is kill me quickly."


    ..........


    I expected that night I wouldn''t be able to sleep. That I''d be kept up, haunted by impending execution and the death of the old man.


    But the cells, they were warmer than any place I''d slept in a long time. I had a roof, and four walls. For me, it meant luxury.


    So I slept like a rock, and that seemed fair. One good night''s sleep, in return for a shitty lifetime.


    When I woke up, the cold light of morning light streamed through the gaps in the barred window.


    "Aaagh" I groaned, stretching. That had been a good sleep.


    Slowly I got up, looking around.


    And that''s when I realized, I wasn''t alone.


    There was someone, crouching in the opposite corner of the cell, watching me.


    Slowly the figure got up, walking forward until the morning sunlight revealed him to be...Red?


    "What are you doing here?" I laughed incredulously, momentarily forgetting that I was in a prison.


    Red smiled. I immediately noticed that he''d changed. When he smiled, it wasn''t his usual cocky grin. It was¡­ hesitant. Faint. Like he''d forgotten how to do it properly.


    "Heya, James."


    Something was wrong.


    "What are you doing here, Red?" My voice was quieter now. Sharper.


    Red sighed, moving closer. "I''m here to do what you were going to."


    I frowned. "The hell does that mean?"


    He didn''t answer.


    And then, he said something that made my stomach drop.


    "I confessed."


    I bolted upright. "Why?!" My voice cracked. "Now both of us are going to die!"


    Red chuckled. "Nah. Just me."


    I grabbed his shoulders, shaking him violently. "Red, what do you mean?!"


    "It was me that killed him, James. Not you. Me. I couldn''t let you take the blame."


    Tears blurred my vision.


    "Why?" I whispered. "Why would you do that?"


    Red smiled. "Because you''re part of my crew. And that''s for life."


    I heard the clanging and more footsteps descending. And this time I knew, they were for us.


    Two guards came in, hoisting both of us up.


    Red was handcuffed while I was left alone.


    I wanted to struggle, but Red stopped me with a look. It was a pained look. A look that said don''t make this harder than it needs to be.


    We walked to the execution block in silence, trying to enjoy the final moments of each other''s company.


    Soon the execution area came into place. It was a cage made of shimmering glass. Within it, the person would be killed by mana. It was a quick, painless death, one of the few kindness this hellhole gave beggars like him.


    "Hey James."


    I looked up, "yeah?"


    "I have a sister. Her name is Elthea. She lives in an adopted home in the suburbs. 24 Sutton street. Keep an eye on her for me, yeah?" His voice cracked slightly when he said a name, his mask of calm showing a boyish terror that I had always failed to notice.


    "Y-yeah."


    The guard who held me forced me to stay still, as Red was escorted to the execution area. I looked in horror, as he was thrown in.


    Red never died panicking. He died smiling. As if he had wanted this all along. His smile was fixed on me. His red hair dancing in the sunlight, his dark eyes warm.


    I saw him mouth his last words right before he died, dropping to the floor for seemingly no reason.


    ''Goodbye James.''


    "Goodbye Red" I muttered back. But of course, he couldn''t hear me.


    ................


    I strolled out of the execution place, finally let free. I felt as if I was a hollowed out version of myself. Keeping my head down, I walked randomly, not focusing on where I was going. My thoughts were still lost on Red.


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    I bumped into someone accidentally.


    "Sorry" I muttered automatically, as I continued to walk, not even looking up to see who it was.


    "Wait" a commanding voice replied.


    I froze. That voice sounded familiar.


    Turning I saw the person that had pinned me down on that first day.


    His dull yellows bore into me, like two nails.


    "So", he said. "You''re friend confessed."


    "Mhm" I replied, too emotionally worn out to care about his words.


    "He said you''re insane."


    "Mhm."


    "You know...that man he killed. He had a wife and two kids. The daughter, she''s around your age I reckon. It''s going to be hard for them to survive with no one to look after them. After all, you did kill the girl''s dad."


    I felt a spear of ice in my chest as he spoke.


    "What do you want?" I spat, glaring hatefully, my anger at Red spilling over.


    "Join me."


    "Huh. No."


    "Why no?"


    "Why do you want me to join you?"


    The man smiled. "I have a couple of reasons. One is...loyalty. The second is a hunch. And the third..."


    "What''s the third?"


    "I''ve got something over you."


    "What''s that?"


    Thanason''s smile grew wider, and he walked closer.


    "If you work for me, I''ll take care of your every need. I''ll also send money to that man''s family in your name, to ensure they''re looked after."


    I stared at him, shocked. "Why so much?"


    "Why are you so hesitant?"


    I grit my teeth. It was a good offer...and yet.


    "I got one more condition."


    Thanason raised his eyebrows, "What''s that?"


    I heaved a deep sigh. "There''s a girl I need to keep an eye on. She''s adopted."


    "Why do you need to do that?"


    For the first time, I met his eyes levelly, not looking away.


    "Because I made a promise...to my best friend."


    ............


    /////////////////////////////////////////////


    Arthur ¨C 3rd Person.


    Arthur''s eyes snapped open. Immediately he scrambled up as a wave of nausea hit him. He threw up over the side of the boat as James''s memories overloaded his mind.


    For a couple of moments...or even days, he remained hunched over the boat, his sense of self unraveling.


    ''Am I James, Or Arthur? Or Reshi?''


    After a while, his mind began to calm and he managed to sit back down on the boat with a heavy sigh.


    The Storier watched him silently, still strumming a mournful tune. "How was it...am I a good storyteller?"


    Arthur looked up, eyeing the storyteller angrily. "Fuck you."


    The Storier chuckled. "I''ll take that as a yes then."


    "Who are you?" Arthur asked. Before had thought that The Storier had been a part of his trial. But no, there was no fucking way that this thing in front of him wasn''t something stronger.


    "Are you a deity?"


    The Storier locked eyes with him, and this time, Arthur understood the weight of those eyes. Those eyes...how many stories had they seen. He understood those eyes...because they reflected what he felt after seeing James''s life.


    Sadness. A deep, overpowering grief, potent. Yet at the same time, it didn''t belong to him.


    Finally Arthur spoke again. "Who was he?"


    The Storier smiled. "You knew him. Of course, you called him Skelter...not James."


    Arthur''s body shuddered. For a moment he felt like he was going to throw up again.


    ''Skelter huh. Again it all went back to that bastard. Why am I only learning about you after you''re gone you bitch. Couldn''t you have been a bit more different when you were alive.''


    How much did he know about Skelter now?


    Too much. It felt like ever since Skelter had died for him, his death had been shaping the rest of Arthur''s life. That feeling of loss increased. He never knew Skelter. But a part of him wished he had.


    ''I bet we would''ve been friends'' he mused sadly.


    Arthur also felt something else. It felt like a burden had been taken off him. For so long, he had wondered why Skelter had done what he did. It had plagued him. Why a man with a family of his own...had thrown that all away. For him. Someone that had outwardly hated Arthur.


    But after seeing that portion of his life. Arthur understood. They had been in similar positions once. Funnily enough, the person who''d understand him the most...had been Skelter all along.


    "Aaah fuck man", he sighed. Wiping his tears so The Storier wouldn''t notice. Crying in public was like bleeding next to sharks.


    He understood now. Why that bastard had saved him, after beating him near to death. With that understanding, a sense of peace washed over him. This entire time, he had selfishly put the blame of Skelter''s death on himself, but now, he understood. That sacrifice had never been his decision. It had been Skelter''s, and that knowledge finally assuaged the guilt within him.


    He heard a grunt, and looking up he saw The Storier smiling at him, as if he could read the turmoil that had finally settled within Arthur.


    "Now, I think you''re ready."


    Arthur looked back at him, "Ready?"


    "To Rank up of course." Putting his lute to the side, he revealed a small shimmering red gem, with faint wisps of gold within.


    "What''s this?" Arther asked, completely transfixed on the timeless beauty of the gem.


    "Find out", The Storier replied proffering the gem.


    Arthur took it gently. As soon as it was in his grip, the gem dissolved into his skin.


    He felt a rush of power within him. It was a qualitative change. His soul felt richer, his mind expanding, his body becoming more and more firm. It was like he existed more now, the world around him becoming richer and more real.


    [Rank up to E- taking place. User has achieved a state of mindfulness! Rank up successful!]


    He glanced back to the Storier, his eyes wide in amazement. "T-thanks?"


    The man chuckled, "What for? I only told you a story."


    Arthur laughed, "It was quite a damn story." He waited for a moment, expecting a system notification to take him back out of the Rank up test.


    But...nothing happened.


    "Uhh Storier, how do I leave?" he asked nervously.


    The Storier''s eyes glinted mischievously. "You tell me."


    Arthur thought for a moment. There was no point trying to prod the old- well whatever the Storier was.


    ''The system said I achieved mindfulness? What is that? I''m mindful of what?''


    As soon as he questioned it, the words came to his mind, as if they had been there the entire time, just waiting to be spoken.


    "I...will do anything it takes to survive, and I won''t feel bad for doing so." It felt stupid to say. But everything that had happened in the past few months. Surviving, and killing, and healing and killing.


    They had shaken him more than he had realised, subjecting himself to a draining inner turmoil that had been dragging at his soul, as if they were physical weights.


    ''Was it right if I killed people?


    Aren''t the people I kill human too?


    But I need to survive?


    If I have to kill to survive, is that okay?''


    These questions had been plaguing his mind ever since, but now, he understood. After seeing that vision of James. After finally understanding Skelter''s actions to some degree.


    He finally understood.


    As soon as he uttered those words, a notification popped up in front of him.


    [Returning to the world....]


    ''Finally.''


    "Wait" Arthur stammered, "Who are you?" It was more than obvious, whoever The Storier was, he was more than a product of his Rank up test.


    The Storier smiled widely, "I wonder if you''ll be able to figure it out, this early into the story."


    With that, Arthur''s soul returned to the real world.

 Chapter 29 - It begins

    Arthur returned to Fort Lanai alone. His master had disappeared as he always did¡ªwithout warning, without explanation, only leaving behind the same frustrating words that had begun to carve themselves into Arthur''s mind like an old wound.


    "The weak don''t get to ask questions."


    Arthur scowled at the memory, his fists clenching involuntarily. Strength. That was all that mattered in this world.


    The gates of Fort Lanai loomed ahead, and as he stepped through, he barely spared a glance at the soldiers standing guard. They looked at him with the same expressions as always¡ªdisgust, contempt, some even spitting in his direction as he passed.


    Well at least they didn''t try to bar him from entering, his Master, Syar, must''ve already informed ahead about his arrival.


    Once, it would have made his stomach twist. Once, it would have left him questioning himself, wondering if he was truly the monster they believed him to be.


    But now?


    Now, he simply walked past them, his face a mask of indifference. It had been hard when he first arrived. Being hated for something he had been born to. For a crime the previous Arthur had done, he now had to carry the burden.


    But at least he wasn''t alone. He had Unit 7, and Noah. They at least treated him normally.


    Commander Scarlet stood waiting for him at the entrance, her red hair catching in the wind like a living flame. Her dark eyes studied him with warmth, curiosity¡­ familiarity?


    Arthur stopped.


    He had never noticed before, but now that he looked at her properly¡ªreally looked¡ªsomething about her face tugged at a distant memory. A feeling just out of reach.


    ''Where have I seen her before?''


    His life in this world had been painfully short and painfully lonely. Faces blurred together in a haze of suffering. But hers? Hers stood out now, and that unsettled him more than he cared to admit.


    ''Why do you look familiar? Maybe in Reshi''s life?''


    "Good, you''re here then," Scarlet said.


    Arthur saluted with deliberate slowness, his expression turning mockingly formal. "Yes, ma''am."


    She snorted in an entirely unladylike manner, crossing her arms. "Come on. It''s time you got briefed properly."


    Arthur followed, a small smile tugging at his lips despite himself.


    He was back.


    ¡­............


    The barracks of Unit 7 were just as he remembered¡ªloud, chaotic, and filled with an energy that had nothing to do with discipline. The moment he stepped inside, a voice rang out.


    "Hey, look who finally dragged his sorry ass back!"


    Arthur turned, grinning as he met the mischievous eyes of Mat. The slightly older soldier stood with his arms crossed, his usual cocky smirk in place.


    "Mat," Arthur greeted warmly. Then, after a deliberate pause, he sighed in mock sympathy. "Once a midget, always a midget, I guess."


    The reaction was immediate.


    Mat''s smirk vanished. His eyes twitched. "I''M TALLER THAN YOU."


    Arthur placed a hand over his heart, shaking his head sadly. "Yes. But I''m fourteen."


    Mat''s mouth opened. Then closed. His face contorted as if he were wrestling with some great existential crisis.


    Arthur stepped closer, voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper.


    "Our height difference isn''t even that big¡­ But I''m still growing. Imagine, Mat." His grin widened. "One day, I''ll be looking down on you."


    Mat paled.


    A second voice cut in, lazy and amused.


    "Just accept it, Mat," Noah drawled as he leaned against his bunk. His green eyes glinted with mischief. "Everyone has their standing in life. Yours just happens to be, well¡­let''s just say you have a, pffft, a low one." His shoulder heaved, barely holding back a snicker.


    Arthur cracked up first, followed quickly by Noah.


    Mat''s face turned red as he let out an incoherent growl before storming out of the barracks, muttering darkly under his breath.


    Felt entered, watching the retreating figure with mild curiosity. "What happened?"


    "Oh, nothing much," Arthur said, still grinning. "Just reminding Mat that he''s small."


    Felt blinked. Then, in a voice of absolute seriousness, he muttered, "You went and did that, huh¡­"


    Arthur frowned. "Uh, yeah?"


    Felt sighed, shaking his head. "You know, Arthur¡­ The last person who called Mat a midget woke up one night with the butt of a spear shoved so far up his¡ªwell. You know."


    Arthur paled.


    Noah collapsed into another fit of laughter.


    Arthur turned on him. "I don''t know why you''re laughing. If it happens to me, you''re next."


    Noah gazed at him through tears of laughter. Arthur grit his teeth, "Trust me Noah. I''ll. Make. Sure. Of. It."


    Noah immediately stopped laughing. His expression turned solemn. "Arthur," he said gravely. "I think we should apologize."


    Arthur sighed. "Too late for that."


    Felt clapped a hand on Arthur''s shoulder. "Well. It was nice knowing you."


    Before Arthur could retort, the door swung open.


    Commander Scarlet stood there, arms crossed. "If you three idiots are done, we have a briefing to get to."


    ¡­..................


    The meeting room was silent as Scarlet''s gaze swept over them.


    And then, without preamble, she said:


    "You''re all dead."


    Silence.


    Arthur watched as everyone remained eerily still, waiting. Not a single voice protested. Not a single person spoke out in confusion.


    Scarlet''s lips twitched upward in approval. ''They''re learning.'' She felt an almost parental pride, that these rowdy cadets had decided, for once. To stay silent.


    The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    "To keep the fact that the Fort has been taken over, we''ve made all of you legally dead, including the General. The rebel spies will confirm this, and it should correlate with our story that General Thanason and his forces were defeated. Once we regain their trust, we''ll slowly and covertly expand our influences.


    The key to this rebellion isn''t overwhelming force. It''s destroying the elusive key figures behind it, especially William of Orange. But more than that, we need to tarnish their names before doing so. We cannot allow them to become martyrs.


    Once we kill the key figures, the rebellion will quickly dissolve. So, the next stage of the rebellion will be a front.


    General Thanason has left most of his forces as a distraction, including key generals, who will assume his position after his supposed death. They will continue the battle on separate fronts, while we will covertly expand, assassinating and finding crucial information on key figures."


    Arthur nodded. To him, this seemed to be exactly the type of plan someone like General Thanason would do. It went with the shadow and light ideology he had learned to associate with the yellow eyed leader. The main army would pose as the light, drawing away the attention, while he and everyone else who was supposedly dead would act as the shadow, causing damage unnoticed.


    "This means you cannot contact your families. To the outside world, you no longer exist."


    Arthur snorted.


    Scarlet''s eyes landed on him. "Something funny, Cadet Gravewalker?"


    Arthur hesitated. Then, with a small, humorless smile, he said, "Just thinking¡­ My family is probably thrilled that I''m dead. If they ever find out I''m still breathing, that might actually kill them."


    A beat of silence.


    Then, soft chuckles filled the room.


    Arthur''s circumstances were well known among Unit 7. Most of them no longer believed the rumors about him, most of them believed he was the prey of some noble scheme. The rest believed there was at least more to the story, but none of them voiced their curiosity out of respect for Arthur.


    Scarlet''s smile was small, but her eyes held something close to sorrow. "I see."


    "Alright, everyone is dismissed. Ahh...no, not you Arthur."


    Arthur froze from getting up. Sharing a silent look with Noah, he sat back down.


    Commander Scarlet kept silent until the rest of them left.


    "Uhhh....Commander?"


    Silently, she undid her long hair, allowing it to fall freely to her mid back. She strolled towards him, eyes intent.


    "Commander?" He repeated, his worry increasing as he slowly backed away.


    "Here" she said, handing him a vial and a small box. She had another vial, which she unscrewed, pouring it onto her own hair.


    As she rubbed it in, her hair transformed from red, to a deep midnight black.


    She looked at Arthur expectantly.


    "Uhhh."


    Sighing heavily, she walked closer, "gimme the vial."


    He handed it back to her. She unscrewed it, rubbing the viscous liquid into his scalp.


    "Me and you, we have quite noticeable features. Especially you, a former son of a powerful Duke. So we need to have these measures to hide your identity. It''d be impossible to pretend to be a rebel if the son of a Duke is with us."


    "Former son of a Duke" Arthur interrupted harshly.


    "Ahh yes" she said, her tone softening. "Former son."


    "What''s this then" Arthur asked, wanting to divert her attention.


    "Contact lenses. They don''t need to be removed, and have been enchanted ot be unnoticeable, they''ll change your eye colour from red to black. The dye won''t need to be replaced, it requires Aphrodis oil to be able to be removed only."


    He nodded, "makes sense I guess", but he couldn''t feel a strange sense of loss. His white hair and red eyes were the only things that had connected him to his old life, well, the old Arthur''s life to be exact.


    Gone were the red eyes.


    Gone was the white hair.


    Now, Arthur Gravewalker no longer exists.


    Only Arthur remained.


    He stared at his reflection, an odd sensation curling in his gut. A loss of something intangible. A final severing of the past.


    But he shoved the feeling down.


    Because the only way forward¡­ was through.


    ¡­..........


    Outside Fort Lanai, under the quiet cover of night, Arthur summoned Ikaris. He had left the fort, wanting to keep his experiments a secret.


    As Reshi, the one thing he hated about the mc was the lack of flexibility in the way he used his powers. It had always been frustrating to read.


    He wouldn''t make the same mistake. He would experiment, fully understanding the different uses of his fire affinity.


    The spear materialized in his grip, its weight familiar, comforting.


    He moved slowly at first, feeling the pull of the weapon, the rhythm of combat. Then, with a flick of his wrist, he channeled mana into it. Flames flickered to life along the blade, trailing behind every strike.


    ''Not enough.''


    He pushed more mana into it. The fire roared, wild and untamed, trails of brilliant flame flared out from each strike and slash like some sort of Infernal afterimage to all of his attacks.


    He grit his teeth.


    ''Control it. Shape it. Bend it to your will.''


    It was hard. Fire resisted being caged from its nature. It wanted to be free, to burn wildly.


    Still, he had to try. Focusing on his precise mana control.


    Because if he succeeded, with his plan.


    He wouldn''t just be dangerous.


    He would be unstoppable.

 Chapter 30 - Lanai pass

    Duke Gravewalker received the notification early in the morning. He hadn''t expected to see anything urgent¡ªit was just routine to check his phone after training. But then he saw it.


    Arthur was dead.


    He had expected this outcome. There was no way Arthur could have survived in that place, especially as a noble. The world had no mercy for men like his son. And yet, against all reason, some small, fragile part of him had hoped. Some foolish, desperate piece of his heart had believed Arthur would find a way.


    But no. The world was rarely so kind.


    A sharp intake of breath came from beside him. Lady Gravewalker had just entered, reading the message from his phone as she often did, her grip tightening around his arm. Unlike him, she had always been skilled at keeping her composure. But even now she was faltering.


    "Will we be able to bury h-him?" she asked, her voice even but thin, brittle.


    Duke Gravewalker shook his head sadly. "No. He''s disowned. We can''t be seen giving him an official burial."


    Her fingers dug into his wrist, as if trying to ground herself. "Then can''t we do anything?"


    He kept reading, his breath slow, measured. But then he stilled.


    "They never... found his body."


    Lady Gravewalker''s grip became almost painfully tight.


    "What can we do?" she whispered.


    "Something private," he murmured. "Just us. If the children wish to join, they can."


    She nodded, and just like that, she was moving, her mind shifting from grief to action. He watched as she disappeared down the hall, her shoulders rigid, spine straight.


    But he¡ªhe needed to be alone.


    Duke Gravewalker made his way into the forest bordering the estate, moving deeper and deeper until the trees swallowed him whole. Only when he was safely hidden, lost in the embrace of solitude, did he allow himself to break.


    He collapsed to his knees. His breath came in shudders, his hands trembling as they covered his face. And for the first time in years, he wept.


    He mourned for the son he had been forced to hate in public. For the boy who had carried his name into exile. For the child he had sent to his death.


    And the world would never know.


    Tomorrow, he''d have to wake up and move forward. He would have to carry on as if nothing had changed. As if his heart wasn''t buried in the dirt with a son who had no grave.


    The world would never know. But here, in the embrace of solitude, he could grieve.


    .......


    The entirety of Unit 7 stood at attention, waiting for the rebel unit''s arrival.


    Arthur sighed, brushing his now-inky black hair out of his face. It had grown too long, unkempt, and unbearably annoying. Strands of it constantly slipped into his eyes.


    "They''re coming," Caster muttered, his orange eyes glinting.


    A moment later, Arthur heard it too¡ªthe rhythmic footfalls of an approaching regiment. The large gates of Fort Lanai swung open, welcoming at least three squads of soldiers clad in gleaming red and white armor.


    But among them, there were outliers. Soldiers whose armor bore intricate, breathtaking designs¡ªRelics.


    Arthur''s jaw tightened. Soldiers who wielded relics, like Ikaris. They''d be strong, it showed the rebels suspicion towards them.


    ''It''s just as the commander said. They''re not here for reconnaissance. They''re here to watch us.''


    Commander Scarlet took the lead, a wide, easy smile on her face as she approached the leader of the unit. He was an older man, with short white hair and piercing light blue eyes.


    "Commander Dulerayon," she greeted, saluting.


    The man regarded her with little interest. "And you are?" His voice was sharp, cold.


    "Officer Mara," she answered smoothly.


    Arthur''s gaze sharpened. ''Ahh, she''s reverting back to that identity.''


    Dulerayon gave a curt nod. "Where are the commanders?"


    Arthur''s stomach twisted. Right. The commanders. ''They were slain by the General, weren''t they?'' He could feel the attention of the entire unit fixating on Commander Scarlet, waiting for her response.


    She smiled. "Commander Ravix will be arriving shortly. Commander Elsira is out on other business."


    As if summoned by her words, a massive figure dropped down from the top of the fort, landing with a heavy crash right in front of Commander Dulerayon.


    Arthur''s heart pounded. ''Was the disguise over already?''


    The man stood tall, his hulking frame casting a long shadow against the ground. He had long black hair, dark eyes, and a massive warhammer slung effortlessly over his back.


    Arthur''s mind raced. ''Didn''t General Thanason defeat him?'' What the hell was going on?


    Commander Ravix grinned. "Ahhh, Oltra. It''s been a while."


    Dulerayon stiffened. "Commander Ravix... let us show proper decorum."


    The larger man scoffed, his grin widening. "Oh, forget it, Oltra. Have you heard about our success?"


    Dulerayon''s cold eyes gleamed with curiosity. "Yes. Tell me¡­ how did you defeat General Thanason? I wasn''t aware you had achieved the third-awakening."


    Ravix snorted. "If only. No, we won because Raleigh weakened him first. If not for that, Elsira and I wouldn''t have stood a chance."


    "I see."


    "Enough about that¡ªwhy are you here, Oltra?"


    "Reconnaissance."


    "Reconnaissance?" Ravix echoed, an amused edge to his voice. "A commander like you being sent on a recon mission?"


    Dulerayon laughed. "No, I''m not. I''ve been transferred here¡­ to bolster our defenses against any future invasions."


    Arthur clenched his jaw. Lies. The old man wasn''t here for defense¡ªhe was here to watch them. To see if they were spies. And if he found them out?


    He was here to eliminate them.


    "So who will be going then?" Commander Ravix asked.


    A squad of soldiers stepped forward, led by a bronze skinned lady wearing black armour, her white hair draped across it wildly.


    Ravix nodded. "Very well. Come Oltra, let''s talk away from all this."


    Oltra gave instructions to the rest of his soldiers.


    "Officer Mara" Ravix called.


    "Yes sir?"


    "You''ll be subordinate to Oltra''s officer. Understood?"


    "Yes sir."


    Then the two commanders left, the two other units of soldiers dispersing into Fort Lanai.


    Commander Scarlet walked forward. "Any order for us Ma''am."


    The bronze skinned lady stepped forward. "Officer Mara is it?"


    "Yes Ma''am."


    "My name is Officer Reftia, we''ll leave immediately."


    ¡­....


    Arthur followed behind, walking alongside Noah as their unit trekked through the mountains of Lanai Pass. The air was thick with unspoken tension, a near-palpable divide between their unit and the rebel squad.


    When night fell, each unit made their own camp, their fires flickering in the cold air.


    Laughter rippled through Unit 7. The tension fading now that they were back in their own company.


    "So" Petro said, his green eyes shining as he continued his story. "When I got caught they didn''t know I was a soldier. They interrogated me for three days, but I didn''t tell them anything."


    "Well I did," Mat interjected. Laughing. "Told the Officer I made his wife a very happy lady."


    Laughter exploded around the fire. Even Commander Scarlet let out a rare chuckle.


    And then, in a low voice, Caster added, "So did I."


    Silence.


    "What?" Finn blinked. "No way."


    Caster nodded.


    "You''re saying you told the officer you slept with his wife?" Mat asked incredulously.


    Caster shook his head. "No. I said I did it with his mother."


    There was a moment of silence, then they all exploded with laughter again, the sounds carrying over into the next camp.


    Arthur had to wipe the tears of his eyes. "What happened when they found out you''re a soldier?"


    This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    "Well" Petro said, "I didn''t tell them. Felt rescued us before, you know, Officer Mara found out. If she knew, all our asses would''ve been in danger."


    "Well" replied Commander Scarlet, her voice overly sweet. "Don''t worry Petro, there''s always time."


    Petro paled visibly in the campfire. "Uhh, yes ma''am."


    She then turned to Felt. "So, tell me my dear number two. How many other things have you hidden from me, hmm~?" She maintained a tone of such warmth that everyone knew that Felt was in grave danger.


    "Uhh, well." For once the number 2 of the squad didn''t know what to say. His grey eyes looked at each of them pleadingly.


    No one was willing to help. But after a moment or two of Felt drowning in Commander Scarlet''s gaze, Arthur suddenly spoke up.


    "Officer Mara, I''ve got a question for you?"


    "Hmm, what is it Arthur?"


    "Do you have a brother?" The question seemingly came out of nowhere, catching Commander Scarlet off guard.


    "No, I don''t think so," she replied. But there was something in her eyes that seemed off to him.


    After watching her, he had finally realised during the day who Commander Scarlet looked familiar to.


    Red.


    Apart from the striking Red hair, they both had the same dark eyes and graceful appearance.


    She looked like a female version of Red, and he couldn''t help but think that maybe Officer Skelter had kept his promise after all. No doubt Commander Scarlet had become strong enough to take care of herself.


    Commander Scarlet''s attention was successfully diverted. Felt shot him a thankful look which made Arthur smile.


    "Arthur" Commander Scarlet called.


    "Yes?"


    "Officer Refia has called for one of us."


    "Uhh?"


    "She has a telepathic ability. Go and see what she wants."


    "Why me?"


    "Because you tried to divert my attention?" She replied sweetly.


    Arthur sighed, getting up and making his way over. The last thing he heard was Officer Mara speaking to Felt.


    "So, where were we, hmm~?"


    ¡­.....


    Arthur approached the rebels'' camp with careful steps, feeling the weight of their stares before he even reached the fire. Unlike Unit 7''s rowdy, easygoing atmosphere, this camp was eerily quiet. Soldiers ate their rations in near silence, some murmuring in low voices, others simply focused on sharpening their weapons.


    The only one who looked remotely at ease was Officer Reftia.


    Officer Reftia was taller than most of the men around her, her bronze skin glowing in the firelight. Her white hair, left wild, cascaded over her black armor, giving her a feral, untamed air. She had a powerful physique, and despite her casual posture as she leaned on her log.


    To Arthur she seemed more like a coil beast, ready to spring into action.


    Arthur hesitated for only a second before stepping into the firelight.


    "Ah, so Mara finally sent someone," Reftia said, stretching lazily.


    Arthur saluted. "Cadet Arthur, reporting as requested, ma''am."


    Reftia chuckled. "At ease, Cadet. No need to be so stiff¡ªthis isn''t an interrogation."


    Arthur barely resisted the urge to scoff. It was an interrogation¡ªjust not the kind that needed ropes or threats. No, this would be much more dangerous.


    "Sit," she said, gesturing to the log across from her. "As you can see, we''re in desperate need of some conversation."


    Reftia leaned forward slightly, propping her chin on one hand. "So, Arthur. How are you finding the rebellion?"


    Arthur didn''t blink. "You mean the resistance, ma''am?"


    Her smile sharpened. "Ahh, the words of a patriot. Pardon my mistake. Yes, the resistance." Her eyes seemed to be amused, but Arthur could tell otherwise.


    He let out a sheepish chuckle, scratching the back of his head. "Ah, well¡­ I guess it''s been an adjustment."


    Reftia hummed. "An adjustment? Odd choice of words for a patriot."


    Arthur forced a nervous smile. "I, uh¡­ wasn''t exactly in a great place before joining, so yeah, it''s been an adjustment."


    Her gaze didn''t waver. "Really? From which meeting did you get recruited?"


    Arthur kept his expression neutral, but inside, his mind raced. He had no idea how rebel recruitment worked.


    Reftia tilted her head. "Was it a first, second, or third-generation recruiter?"


    Shit. She was trying to make him slip.


    Arthur exhaled through his nose, buying himself a second. "I¡­ don''t know, ma''am. I didn''t really pay attention to that sort of thing."


    She raised a brow. "Didn''t pay attention? That''s rare. Most new recruits remember their first meeting well."


    Arthur forced out a bitter laugh, lowering his gaze. "I didn''t exactly have a choice."


    A beat of silence. Reftia''s expression shifted, ever so slightly. She leaned back. "Oh?"


    Arthur hesitated just long enough for it to seem real, then exhaled. "They¡­ didn''t recruit me, ma''am. They took me, imprisoned my family to make me fight."


    She went still.


    Arthur let his voice grow quieter, almost hesitant. "I was forced to fight. My blood, you see¡­ It has unique healing properties when ingested by others. The lie came smoothly now, built on half-truths.


    He felt bad about stealing Sera''s story, twisting it into something he could pass as his own. But, well, his survival came first. ''Sorry Sera.''


    Reftia didn''t react at first, just studying him with unreadable eyes. Then in one swift motion she withdrew a dagger and cut a large gash on her arm, still maintaining eye contact unflinchingly.


    Arthur''s eyes widened in shock. ''This bitch, she''s mental!''


    "Well" she said, her eyes glinting dangerously.


    "Well, can I have a knife?" he asked hesitantly.


    She laughed. "No need." In a rapid movement she crossed the distance, grabbing his arm and biting down hard, sucking in his blood.


    Arthur withheld his grunt of pain.


    In mere moments, his healing blood attribute kicked in, causing the cut on her arm to close and disappear as if it had never existed.


    She paused, as if surprised that Arthur had been telling the truth.


    Arthur grimaced. ''Thank God I did a half-lie.'' Because his blood did indeed have healing properties, it should mean she''d believe him on everything else he said instinctually.


    Reftia''s lips parted slightly. It was subtle, but Arthur saw it¡ªhesitation.


    "I''m sorry," she said, softer than before.


    Arthur kept his gaze downcast. "I just¡­ I do what I have to do."


    A long silence stretched between them. Around them, the other rebels exchanged glances.


    "Well" she said, "I think we''ve spoken long enough. You can go back now Arthur."


    Arthur stood, keeping his movements controlled, precise. As he turned to leave, the other rebels nodded at him. Some in respect. Others in quiet understanding. No doubt his story would be something they''d heard before.


    He nodded back, forcing his expression to remain neutral.


    Inside, he was reeling.


    They bought it.


    He had turned suspicion into sympathy.


    As he walked back toward Unit 7''s camp, he felt the weight of their gazes follow him.


    Arthur clenched his jaw, forcing himself not to smirk.


    ''Thank you, Sera, who knew it''d be you saving my life.'' The thought of it made his lips twitch momentarily.


    ¡­.....


    Officer Reftia watched as Arthur returned back to camp.


    "He was telling the truth," Famin said to her right. His tone had a hint of surprise.


    "Yes" she said softly, still tasting the remnants of his blood on her tongue. That blood had indeed been special.


    "Still" Famin continued. "It''s not an uncommon thing for people like him, with those gifts."


    Officer Reftia nodded, lost in her own thoughts. "I guess it isn''t."

 Chapter 31 - Dungeon

    ((((ARTHUR POV 1ST PERSON)))))))))))


    I was back in my old world.


    The warm glow of the evening sun spilled through the living room window, painting everything in gold. My mother and Mary sat on the couch, laughing softly as they talked. Joseph and my younger sister ran through the flat in bursts of childish energy, their laughter echoing off the walls.


    Dad wasn''t home yet.


    But that was alright.


    This dream was a reoccurring favorite of mine. A fragile illusion, but one I welcomed every time. Here, at least, I could pretend¡ªpretend that warmth still reached me, that I hadn''t lost everything.


    I remained unseen, a ghost lingering at the edges of my past, watching the people I loved. Even if they couldn''t see me. Even if I knew none of this was real.


    It was enough.


    Then, the door creaked open.


    Dad must be home, I smiled, expecting to see his familiar weary smile.


    Instead, the golden light died.


    Darkness poured in from the doorway like ink, curling unnaturally across the floor, stretching like clawed hands. Shadows slithered toward my family, devouring the warmth, choking the air.


    "No¡ªNO!" I lunged forward, desperate to stop it. But I was too late. Again.


    As the darkness touched them, they unraveled¡ªdissolving into nothing, vanishing like smoke. Laughter cut short. Voices silenced. In an instant, I was alone.


    Or so I thought.


    A silhouette stood where my family had been, as if conjured from their deaths.


    A woman stepped forward, emerging from the abyss. My breath hitched, my blood turning to ice.


    "No," I whispered, shaking my head in denial. "Not you."


    But there she was.


    Dark purple hair cascaded down her back, her violet eyes gleaming with something unreadable. She was undeniably beautiful, delicate. As if she were something to be protected.


    But she was the devil.


    Fear coiled around my heart like a vice, squeezing the air from my lungs. This wasn''t how its meant to be. This dream was meant to be my safe place.


    She smiled as she saw my face contorted in pain.


    It was warm. Gentle, and disgustingly fake. Her eyes remained cold. No that wasn''t right. There was a peverse pleasure there as she saw him struggling pain.


    Rage surged, drowning out the terror. I moved before I could think, closing the distance between us, hands reaching for her throat. If I can kill her...


    Shadows lunged at me.


    They caught my arms, wrenching me back, slamming me against the far wall. I thrashed, fighting against the unseen force, but I was trapped¡ªhelpless.


    She giggled, the sound light and playful, yet filled with something rotten.


    "I can''t believe I actually fell for that once," she mused.


    I stilled, my blood running colder.


    She stepped closer, her fingers trailing along the blade of a long, familiar knife. My stomach twisted violently. I knew that knife.


    "Why can''t you leave me alone!?" I shouted, struggling harder. "You''re supposed to be dead!"


    Her lips parted in a soft laugh. "Why does death mean I should leave you alone, Reshi?" She leaned in, her voice a whisper against my ear.


    "Or is that not your name anymore?"


    I froze.


    ¡­....


    Arthur''s eyes snapped open.


    A shadow loomed over him¡ªmoving fast.


    His body reacted on instinct, his heart still pounding in fear.


    His hand shot up, grabbing the incoming wrist, twisting it sharply, and pulling it down, forcing the figure to drop. A surprised grunt sounded, and without thinking, Arthur drove his fist forward.


    The figure caught the punch.


    "What the fuck, man!?"


    Arthur blinked.


    Reality crashed back into place. The tent, the rebellion, the damp morning air. It had just been a dream.


    Arthur exhaled sharply, releasing Noah''s arm. "Shit. My bad."


    Noah muttered something under his breath, flexing his fingers. "You were thrashing and muttering in your sleep," he said, watching him closely.


    Arthur sat up, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah, nightmare."


    Noah nodded, recognizing that he didn''t want to talk about.


    "Get your ass up," he said instead, already moving toward the tent entrance. "We''re heading out soon."


    Arthur groaned, rubbing his temples. "What a shit fucking sleep."


    Still grumbling, he forced himself to his feet, packing up his things with the rest of the unit.


    "Arthur!"


    Commander Scarlet''s sharp voice cut through the morning haze.


    She stood nearby, composed as ever, looking as though she''d been up for hours.


    "Ma''am," Arthur yawned.


    "Hurry up," she ordered. "Officer Reftia wants you with her."


    Arthur exhaled through his nose. ''What now?''


    "Yes, ma''am," he muttered, slinging his pack over his shoulder. As he made his way toward Officer Reftia''s camp, he flexed his arm absently. The bite marks she''d left on him hadn''t even fully healed yet.


    When he arrived, she was already waiting, a bright smile on her face.


    "Ahh, Arthur! There you are!"


    Arthur forced a weak smile. "As ordered."


    He wanted to fall at the back of the unit, but Officer Reftia hauled him to the front. Obviously, she wasn''t finished with interrogating him.


    "So, Arthur, tell me about that ability of yours" she asked in a conversational tone.


    "What do you want know?" He asked, tensing.


    "Well, it isn''t a common ability, are you perhaps a saint candidate?"


    "Uhh...what''s a saint candidate." Saints hadn''t really been mentioned in the novel. Everything he knew came from Marsh, the healer''s assistant, the only person that had been willing to talk to him back then.


    "Huh...you really don''t know", her tone was slightly surprised. "Are you blessed by Asclepius."


    He shook his head, and he could see a flash of disappointment in her eyes. "I see, that''s probably why you don''t know. A saint candidate is a person who has the potential to become a saint. Only one Saint is chosen per candidate. The failed candidates would then make up a team that is subordinate to the saint."


    "Are there any saint candidates currently."


    She smiled. "Saint candidates vary in skill. There a those who only have Asclepius''s blessing, but are good at fighting. Their technically Saint Candidates, but are really just glorified healers. True Saint candidates are rare, I think there are around three."


    Arthur frowned, "So, if there are real saint candidates, why haven''t they elected a saint."


    Officer Reftia shrugged. "I''m not part of the church, I wouldn''t know."


    Arthur sighed in disappointment. He had hoped she''d fill some gaps in his knowledge, the novel had been centered around the mc, so knowledge outside of the MC and his party was limited.


    Without realising, Officer Reftia gripped his arm, pulling back his sleeve. "Why didn''t you heal yourself."


    Arthur smiled, hiding his inner fustration. ''When is this bitch going to stop grabbing my arm without permission?''


    "My blood only works on others."


    She nodded, "I see." She looked almost disappointed.


    He slowly retreated to the back, and she let him do so, obviously done with her interrogation for now.


    He made his way to the back of the unit, walking besides a soldier with dark eyes and long dark hair tied in a bun.


    "Nice to meet you, I''m Arthur." He extended his hand, his grip steady but not overbearing.


    The man took it, shaking firmly. "Lan. Name''s Lan."


    Arthur gave a small nod. "Good to meet you, Lan."


    Lan studied him, eyes sharp, as if weighing something unspoken. Then, with a slight tilt of his head, he asked, "So, you were forced into this, huh?"


    Arthur hesitated for the briefest moment before nodding. "Yeah. What about you?"


    Lan exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. "Nah. I volunteered."


    Arthur arched a brow. "Oh."


    Lan''s lips pressed into a thin line before he added, "But my sister wasn''t. She was taken. I joined up to find her."


    Arthur felt a weight settle in his chest. His fingers curled slightly at his sides. "What''s her name?"


    "Leera. Most people call her Lee."


    Arthur''s breath hitched, but only for a fraction of a second. The tension in his shoulders eased as he exhaled quietly. For a moment, he had feared¡ªfeared that name would be Sera''s. But it couldn''t have been, here family was imprisoned after all.


    Lan caught the flicker of relief in Arthur''s face, his eyes asking a question.


    Arthur forced a wry chuckle, scratching the back of his head. "I thought you were talking about someone I used to know. Someone... who''s gone now." His voice dropped slightly, careful, measured. "So I guess I''m relieved your sister isn''t her."


    Lan studied him for another moment before his expression softened. "I see."


    He heard a voice call from the front. It was Officer Reftia''s. "Leroy found a cave, get prepared, we''re checking it out."


    The cave finally came into view, a gaping maw nestled within the dense wilderness. The mountains loomed over them, their slopes tangled with trees and vines. At first glance, the entrance blended perfectly with its surroundings, just another shadow among the rocky terrain.


    Officer Reftia halted, scanning the opening with a keen eye. Arthur stepped up beside her. Something about this cave felt¡­ off. The entrance was too precise, too smooth. A perfect circle, its edges free of the jagged imperfections found in natural formations.


    "This isn''t natural," he muttered.


    Reftia hummed in agreement, reaching out to brush her fingers along the stone. "Definitely man-made." She turned to him, eyes sharp with curiosity. "We should check it out. Come on."


    Before Arthur could respond, she grabbed his arm and pulled him inside.


    ''Again she grabs me without a second thought for personal space'' he muttered inwardly.


    If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    The moment their feet crossed the threshold, the cave walls pulsed with a soft blue glow. Strange symbols¡ªrunes¡ªflared to life, shimmering against the stone like ghostly etchings.


    Arthur''s breath hitched. Every instinct screamed at him to back away. "Shit." He whirled around, trying to step back out¡ª


    But he slammed into something solid.


    An invisible barrier. The entrance was still there, or at least it had been a second ago. Now, before his very eyes, the shimmering cave mouth morphed, the space folding in on itself until all that remained was solid rock.


    "W-what?" Arthur stammered, stumbling backward. His pulse pounded in his ears.


    "A dungeon," Reftia declared, her voice level, composed, as if she had expected this.


    Arthur forced himself to swallow, though his throat was dry. "I¡ªI thought dungeons were natural phenomena."


    She shook her head, eyes still scanning the glowing runes. "Most are. But some... some are man-made."


    Arthur''s fingers curled into fists. "How the hell does someone make a dungeon?"


    "I don''t know," she admitted. "But whoever did, it wasn''t us."


    A chill ran down his spine. The runes cast an eerie light around them, their shapes twisting in ways his mind struggled to comprehend.


    "W-what do we do now?" His voice came out tighter than he would have liked.


    Reftia exhaled. "No doubt it''s magically protected. Our only option is to move forward." She glanced at him, sharp and expectant. "Don''t forget the mission, Arthur. We need to locate the secondary entrance."


    "Secondary entrance?"


    She nodded. "Every dungeon, whether natural or artificial, has at least two ways in or out. We need to ensure this place doesn''t provide a hidden passage for the Empire to infiltrate our lands."


    Arthur took a deep breath, steadying himself. Right. The mission. His fingers tightened around the strap of his gear. "Of course this happens to me," he muttered under his breath before glancing at Reftia. "Alright. Let''s go."


    The glow of the runes pulsed once more as they ventured deeper inside, the shadows of the cave swallowing them whole.


    As they pressed forward, Arthur reached over his shoulder and withdrew his spear that was strapped to his back. He didn''t want to summon Ikaris in front of Officer Reftia, after all, she was their enemy, he wanted at least one card up his sleeve when the day inevitably came that he had to fight her.


    If this was a dungeon, there would be monsters¡ªthere was no doubt about that. Dungeons, in most cases, were naturally formed when multiple monster species clustered in one habitat. Over generations, their mana-rich bodies altered the very nature of the space, twisting the laws of reality and creating environments unlike anything in the outside world.


    More than that, dungeons were a treasure trove. Any ore found inside would be infused with mana, making it incredibly valuable for weapons, armor, and even cultivation.


    Officer Reftia retrieved a torch from her waist, the sudden burst of light casting long, flickering shadows against the tunnel walls. The air inside was thick, stale, yet charged with something unseen¡ªmana, dense and undisturbed for who knew how long.


    After ten minutes of steady progress, a sound reached them.


    A rabid, guttural jabbering.


    Arthur stiffened as the sound echoed through the tunnels, multiplying, growing louder with every step. He couldn''t understand the language, but something about it made his skin crawl. The moment the foreign words touched his ears, nausea bubbled up in his stomach, as if the sheer act of hearing them was an offense to his mind.


    The tunnel widened into a massive cavern.


    The instant Officer Reftia stepped forward, white light flooded the space, revealing a horde of creatures.


    Arthur''s stomach twisted.


    Dozens¡ªno, at least a hundred of them. Small, hunched figures with sickly green skin, deformed faces twisted in ravenous hunger. Their sunken red eyes gleamed with malice, and each one carried a rusted, jagged weapon.


    Goblins.


    A shriek erupted from the horde as they rushed forward, a tidal wave of screeching madness.


    Reftia reacted instantly. She darted ahead, her movements a blur. Twin daggers materialized in her hands as she leaped into the fray, carving through the creatures with ruthless efficiency.


    Arthur recovered from the initial shock and stepped forward. "Mana Surge," he muttered. His body responded immediately, his muscles and bones thrumming with power as mana coursed through them.


    He spun the spear, opting for broad, sweeping strikes rather than precise thrusts, it was better against handling numbers.


    The dense mana in the dungeon was intoxicating, and he felt his reserves depleting at a slower rate than usual.


    ''Let''s see what I can do'' he thought, excited to see how his training paid off.


    He exhaled, channeling energy into his weapon. Flames erupted along the length of his spear, glowing orange as they licked at the metal. The heat was comforting to him¡ªmana could not harm its wielder¡ªbut the goblins screamed in agony as it seared their flesh.


    One lunged at him with a rusted blade. He parried, then drove the butt of his spear into its skull with a sickening crack. The fire spread on impact, bubbling the creature''s skin as it crumpled to the ground.


    "Not hot enough," Arthur muttered.


    He poured more mana into the spear, and the flames roared to life. The next goblin that met his strike was cleaved apart like melted wax.


    Momentum carried him forward. He struck, spun, dodged¡ªlosing himself in the rhythm of battle. He leaped, soaring over a group of goblins before plunging his spear into the earth. He allowed mana to flow out of the spear releasing a wave of fire that ignited everything around him.


    Screams filled the cavern as goblins burned, writhing and clawing at their own melting flesh.


    But there were too many. Even with the advantage of fire, they overwhelmed him. Cuts accumulated on his arms, his legs¡ªsmall but numerous. Blood slicked his grip. Mana burned through his reserves at an alarming rate.


    ''I need a mana cultivation technique,'' he thought grimly. Without one, his mana recovery was too slow. The best cultivation techniques could enhance the body itself, allowing warriors to absorb mana passively. But they weren''t easy to acquire. Only mana beasts of intelligence could grant them, or someone who had been taught by a mana beast, and once learned, they could never be replaced. It was a lifetime commitment which is why he hadn''t focused on it.


    Just as he was about to be overrun, it was over.


    A blur of motion¡ªthen silence.


    Arthur blinked.


    The goblins around him collapsed, their bodies slashed apart in an instant.


    They continued like that for hours, moving from room to room, facing endless hordes of goblins. It was grueling, and painful, forcing himself to keep fighting, only taking short breaks before moving on.


    Unlike him, Officer Reftia showed no signs of exhaustion. Her abilities with those two daggers was nothing short of terrifying.


    He didn''t know how long had passed until they finally stopped. His body was a score of cuts and blood. Not of all of the blood was his own.


    Ahead of him, Officer Reftia stood among the carnage, her breathing steady, her daggers dripping red. Her uniform was soaked in goblin blood, her eyes alight with something that almost resembled... excitement.


    Arthur exhaled. "Fuck me, you look terrifying."


    Her head snapped toward him. "What was that?"


    "Nothing," he coughed. "Anyways come here, I''ll heal you."


    "It''s fine," she said, waving a hand dismissively. "Just small cuts."


    "Yeah, well, we need to be in top shape. And besides, I''m already bleeding¡ªmight as well put it to good use. My blood can also recover some of your exhaustion as well."


    She hesitated, then finally nodded. "Alright."


    After healing her, they decided to stop here and camp.


    "A dungeon is about endurance, not just skill," Reftia remarked. "It''s better to take our time than to charge ahead recklessly."


    Arthur nodded. Unlike her, he wasn''t healed, so he wasn''t against taking a rest.


    "Here," she said, pulling a first-aid kit seemingly from nowhere.


    Arthur arched a brow. ''A spatial ring?'' He glanced at her hand. ''Those are expensive.''


    She cleaned and dressed his wounds with practiced efficiency.


    "Thanks, Officer Reftia."


    She smiled. "I wouldn''t want my portable healing potion to go to waste."


    Arthur blinked, then snorted. Before he knew it, he was laughing, not only at her joke. But the entire situation was laughable. Here he was, undercover, laughing with an enemy after a near-death fight.


    It was just too absurd. But at the same time, he couldn''t let himself forget. There''d come a day, when he''d need to kill her.


    It was a sobering thought.


    Reftia started a fire, cutting goblin meat and roasting it over the flames.


    Arthur hesitated. Goblins weren''t just monsters. They had a language. They communicated. Eating them felt... wrong.


    "Look," she said flatly. "Either you eat, or I force you to eat."


    He smirked. "That a promise?"


    She smiled back, but there was something sharp in it. Dangerous. "Do you really want to find out?"


    Arthur chuckled, shaking his head. Strangely enough, he felt more at ease here than he had at Fort Lanai.


    ''Maybe there''s something to be said about facing life-or-death situations together,'' he mused.


    The meat was tough, bitter. He forced it down anyway.


    "I''ll take the first watch," Reftia said. "Get some rest, Arthur. You did good today."


    He nodded, already feeling a wave of heavy exhaustion settle in. "Wake me when it''s my turn."

 Chapter 32 - Dungeon 2

    Arthur awoke with a cold, numbing uncertainty that he had grown used to since entering the dungeon.


    The perpetual darkness and uncertainty had long erased his grasp of time. In this place, day and night never existed. Only fighting, and rest. A cycle of bloodshed and anticipation.


    As they descended deeper, he realised there was something different today. There was a lack of something in the air. It took him a while before he managed to place it.


    Goblins screams. There was no screaming. None of the jabbering mad language echoing across the caverns. Instead, the air was still, as if it was holding its breath in anticipation.


    It felt as if the dungeon was preparing something new.


    "What''s going on?" Arthur asked, gripping his spear tighter.


    "Round two," Officer Reftia said, her tone unreadable.


    He turned sharply. "What the fuck does that mean?"


    She smirked. "It means we''ll be fighting something new. Something stronger."


    Arthur exhaled, frustration curling in his chest. The dungeon was already brutal. Yet, somewhere beneath that frustration, he felt something else¡ªan edge of exhilaration. His body was adjusting, growing sharper. But he still had a problem.


    "What''s wrong?" Officer Reftia asked, reading his troubled expression.


    "Mana" Arthur sighed. "I''m expending too much of it, I don''t have a mana breathing technique."


    Officer Reftia snorted, "Neither do I, look why do you think you need a mana breathing technique?"


    Arthur paused. He had just assumed it really, after all, the MC got an OP mana breathing technique right at the beginning, he had assumed that he needed one early.


    "So...what do I need?"


    She laughed. "Has Officer Mara told you nothing? Look. A mana breathing technique is something you only really need when you become truly powerful, right now, the amount of mana you have isn''t the problem. It''s your efficiency when using it."


    "I don''t understand."


    "Look, you have a flame affinity right?"


    "Yes."


    "So, how much of the mana do you convert into flames, actually becomes flames?"


    Arthur frowned. "I-I, well I don''t know."


    "That''s the problem," she said flatly. "You''re hemorrhaging mana because you''re wasting it. Focus when you use it. Train yourself to instinctively feel the conversion. Eventually, you''ll understand how to use less mana for the same effect."


    He nodded. ''Reading the novel made me think that I knew a lot about this world, but I only followed it from the perspective of the MC, who''s broken in his own sense. I should keep my mind more open.''


    A bone-chilling howl shattered the air, reverberating off the cavern walls.


    Arthur''s heart lurched. ''That¡­ was not a goblin.''


    He turned to Officer Reftia. "Werewolves?"


    She shook her head. "Unlikely. Probably dire wolves."


    He narrowed his eyes. "And that is?"


    "In dungeons, there''s a hierarchy," she explained. "Primary species are the original creatures that spawned the dungeon. Secondary species¡ªsuccessors¡ªare monsters that mutate due to exposure to mana. Dire wolves are one of them. They''re the reason goblins have been pushed outward. That''s why things get stronger the deeper you go."


    Arthur smirked. "Didn''t know you were such a teacher. Should I be calling you Miss Reftia?"


    He expected her to scoff or roll her eyes. Instead, she smiled¡ªa quiet, wistful expression.


    "I used to be one," she murmured. "Some habits die hard."


    Arthur''s eyebrows shot up. "You? A teacher?"


    She shot him a glare. "What''s so funny about that?"


    "Nothing," he said quickly, though the image of her handing out homework and detention slips was amusing.


    She went silent. Arthur hesitated, then decided to push forward anyway.


    "¡­Why?" His voice was softer now. The question was obvious. ''Why did you join the war?''


    Reftia took a deep breath, looking as if she might answer. "Eyes forward."


    Arthur turned back just in time to see a beast emerge from the shadows.


    A dire wolf


    It was massive¡ªeasily twice the size of a normal wolf¡ªwith thick charcoal fur and piercing red eyes gleaming hungrily in the dim light.


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    Arthur tensed. ''This thing is nothing like the goblins.''


    The beast lifted its head and howled.


    A moment later, the howling was answered. A dozen voices.


    A reverberating call of impending death.


    Arthur''s stomach twisted. "Shit."


    Reftia moved first. A blur of motion. Twin daggers flashed as she lunged at the beast with inhuman grace.


    Arthur hesitated only a second before charging with his spear.


    Imperial Style¡ªThird Form! Fifth Form! Second Form!


    Each technique flowed into the next, but the wolf was fast. Too fast. Every thrust, every strike¡ªdeflected. Its massive paws battered him away before he could land a clean hit.


    He wasn''t fast enough. He wasn''t skilled enough. He wasn''t strong enough.


    But he could distract it.


    The dire wolf focused entirely on him, snapping and clawing while Reftia disappeared into its blind spot.


    Then¡ªsteel flashed.


    The wolf staggered, a dozen slashes scoring its body. It collapsed in a pool of its own blood with a gurgling snarl.


    Reftia exhaled. "Good plan. You distract, I kill."


    Arthur scowled. "Why do I have to be bait?"


    "You want to kill them?"


    "¡­Never mind."


    The direwolves kept coming, but never in packs. It was strange. He had heard a dozen howls earlier, and yet. They only found a direwolf alone. Never in groups.


    As if the dungeon was spacing them out, ensuring they weren''t overwhelmed.


    They dispatched their fifth dire wolf before he finally checked his status. Eager to see if he had gotten stronger since entering.


    [ NAME: ARTHUR GRAVEWALKER


    AGE: 14 YEARS OLD


    RACE: HUMAN


    CLASS:


    SPEARMAN: LVL9 (Basic) (Imperial ***) (78%)


    LVL1 (Basic) (Falling Sun style) (12.0%)


    SKILLS :


    MANA BOOST (lvl2) (45%)


    AURA : LOCKED


    BLESSINGS:


    Hades Will -


    Sun''s Concept -


    AFFINITIES : BLOOD, EARTH (locked)


    Fire Lvl 1 (18.3%)


    STATS -


    RANK E-


    STRENGTH: E-


    AGILITY: E-


    STAMINA: E-


    INTELLIGENCE: E-


    MANA CAPACITY: E-


    CHARM : F


    [ Falling Sun style (****) (LVL 1 ¨C 1.0%)


    First move ¨C Shooting star : Proficiency (5.0%)


    Second move ???


    ????? ]


    ''Huh not bad, I am improving. It''s a shame though I can''t work on my falling sun style because of Officer Reftia though.''


    "ARTHUR!!!"


    Officer Reftia''s scream cut through the chaos like a blade.


    He whipped his head around, heart hammering, eyes locking onto the dim reflection in the screen panel¡ªmovement, too fast. Too close.


    Too late.


    He barely had time to turn before something massive came for him. Instinct screamed at him to move, yet...it was too late.


    He braced.


    But the impact never came.


    Instead, a force slammed into him, sending him sprawling. The world tilted. His palms scraped against the cold, unforgiving floor as he scrambled up.


    Only to feel his blood curdle at the sight before him.


    Officer Reftia stood frozen, her body trembling. A jagged, grotesque claw had punched straight through her stomach, its blackened talons dripping crimson.


    Her mouth opened, a wet, choking gasp spilling out.


    She turned her head toward him, eyes unfocused, lips trembling as she forced out one final, broken whisper.


    "R-run."


    Her body twitched violently¡ªthen the claw ripped back, tearing her open.


    She crumpled.


    Arthur''s head went black in shock. ''Wha- what the fuck?'' Everything had happened so fast.


    His body tensed, on the brink of running, thoughtlessly obeying Officer Reftia.


    But he stopped. "No," Arthur growled.


    He turned to face the Direwolf, it''s face fixed in an unnerving, intelligent bestial grin.


    And he wasn''t alone. There was another Direwolf, the same sickeningly intelligent smile on its face as it almost relished the agony on Arthur''s face.


    Arthur stuck out his right hand, allowing Ikaris to materialise. Its weight a familiar comfort.


    "You bastard," he muttered. "I''m going to kill you."


    Arthur lunged forward. "Mana surge."


    Power ignited within him, threads of energy threading through his muscles, fusing into his very bones. His body screamed under the strain, but he pushed¡ªharder. ''More. More.''


    His veins burned, his vision sharpened to a razor''s edge.


    The fury inside him didn''t explode. It cooled¡ªhoned itself into something sharper, colder, more dangerous.


    More permanent.


    "Falling Sun, First Form."


    Mana flooded into Ikaris, the spear''s blade roaring to life with writhing scarlet fire. The flames twisted and coiled like a living thing, eager, and hungry.


    "Shooting Star."


    The ground cracked beneath him as he vanished. The air shattered with a deafening boom, his speed blinding.


    He didn''t strike for the neck. There was too much of a risk of dodging.


    Instead¡ªhe went lower.


    The spear struck. A shockwave erupted outward. The direwolf''s left front and hind legs disintegrated¡ªbone, flesh, fur, all obliterated. A spray of blood and gore painted the ground as the beast collapsed, shrieking, a pitiful, mangled thing now.


    Arthur staggered, the world tilting as the mana drain hit him like a hammer. His vision blurred for a heartbeat, his breath coming in ragged gasps. The Falling Sun style was powerful¡ªbut his body still wasn''t ready for it, and his mana use was still too inefficent.


    For now.


    The second Direwolf seized the moment. A blur of shadow and muscle¡ªthen a paw the size of a boulder came crashing down.


    Arthur barely managed to twist away. The shockwave alone sent him hurtling backward, his body slamming against the ground with bone-rattling force. Ikaris flew from his grip, clattering across the blood-soaked dirt.


    ''Shit.'' Without Falling Sun, he had nothing, he was simply too weak.


    His pulse thundered. The coppery taste of blood filled his mouth. ''No time.''


    "Fuck it," he snarled.


    He lunged back to his feet, re-summoning Ikaris back into his hand.


    He struck. The wolf struck back. A whirlwind of flashing claws and steel erupted between them. Dodge. Thrust. Parry. Repeat.


    But it wasn''t enough. Each time he attacked, the wolf capitalized¡ªforcing him on the defensive, forcing him back.


    His mind raced. ''Think. Think, you bastard!'' Reftia wouldn''t last much longer¡ªif she was even still alive.


    Another strike. Massive claws raked the earth where he had just stood, carving deep, jagged furrows into the ground.


    Claws.


    That was it.


    He surged forward¡ªthis time, he didn''t ignite Ikaris. Instead, he channeled the fire outward, directing it with each movement.


    First Form.


    He pivoted, barely slipping past a snapping maw. Flames gathered at his back, seething. He lunged¡ªthrusting Ikaris straight for the wolf''s chest.


    The beast swiped to parry¡ªbut this time something answered back with a roar of its own.


    Four claw-like arcs of flame materialized midair, slashing down in perfect sync with his spear.


    The wolf shrieked as its own counterattack burned away, its paw left charred and smoking. It recoiled¡ªand that was all he needed.


    Arthur pressed forward, his body screaming, his mana draining with every strike. They clashed¡ªagain. Again. Again.


    It became a battle of endurance. What would fail first?


    His body?


    Or the beast''s?


    Finally¡ªthe series of deep burns and brutal cuts overwhelmed the monster. It faltered. Its legs buckled. A low, gurgling snarl escaped its throat as it slumped to the dirt, its lifeblood pooling beneath it.


    One last, pitiful howl¡ªthen silence.


    Arthur staggered over to the first wolf, it was still alive, but barely. ''Not leaving any chances.''


    He stabbed Ikaris through the neck, killing it.


    He wanted to lay there, and just sleep. "But...jobs not over" he growled, using his words as a mantra to keep him conscious.


    Arthur staggered to Officer Reftia''s side, his breath ragged, his body screaming in exhaustion. He wanted to just give up and lie there, but the job wasn''t done yet.


    With a thought, he dismissed Ikaris, the spear vanishing into embers.


    Blood seeped from the cuts littering his body¡ªit wasn''t hard to find a source. He pressed a gash on his arm to her slightly parted lips, letting the crimson blood flow. ''Come on.'' His mind reeled with urgency. If she didn''t react¡ªif her body didn''t take it in¡ª


    But she had lost too much blood.


    Her body was cold. The gaping wound in her stomach still oozed, sluggish but unrelenting.


    "Come on," he whispered, his voice barely more than a breath.


    Slowly, her wounds began to mend.


    Too slow.


    The damage was too severe. At this rate, the healing wouldn''t fix her in time.


    His mind spun. What else could he do?


    His blood had healing properties. That much he knew. But it had never drained his mana before. Why? Weren''t all abilities based in mana?


    A thought struck him. Mana wasn''t just something they used¡ªit was something woven into their bodies. A natural reserve of energy, reinforcing their bones, muscles, and very existence. It was why people in this world were so resilient, even from childhood to old age.


    If his healing came from his natural mana that saturated his body.


    Then maybe he could force more of it into his blood.


    It would be dangerous. Stripping his body of its natural mana would leave him weaker, more fragile¡ªexposed. In a dungeon, it was a death sentence.


    But if he did nothing¡ªshe would die. And, he just couldn''t let that happen. Ever since he had been brought into this world, he felt something within him change. Maybe it was something left over from the original Arthur. But he just couldn''t let someone die. A funny feeling for a soldier.


    Arthur''s jaw clenched. His mind wavered for a fraction of a second¡ª''She''s a rebel. Letting her die would be easier. Eventually, you''ll have to kill her anyway.''


    No.


    If she died now, suspicion would fall on him. That was the reason. That was the reason he told himself, anyway.


    He closed his eyes, reaching inward. Feeling the faint, barely perceptible hum of natural mana thrumming through his bones, muscles, blood.


    And he pushed.


    It was like trying to move something that had never been meant to be moved. His entire body rebelled, his limbs growing numb, his vision swimming. He felt himself weaken, like the very essence of his being was unravelling.


    His blood began to glow. A deep, eerie crimson radiance pulsed from the gash in his arm.


    He held it over her mouth, forcing the infused blood to flow.


    It worked.


    The effect was immediate. The glow seeped into her veins, her torn flesh knitting together at double the previous speed. The gaping wound shrunk, muscle pulling tight, skin reforming.


    Arthur exhaled a shuddering breath. "Thank God."


    Then the world lurched.


    The ground rushed up to meet him, his body collapsing like a puppet with its strings cut. He barely had the strength to breathe, his limbs leaden, his mind sinking into a whirling blackness.


    ''I''ll leave the rest to you, Officer.''

 Chapter 33 - Dungeon 3

    Arthur awoke with a groan. His limbs were weak, sore, and his head pounded viciously. Yet, strangely, he was warm¡ªcomfortably so. He felt no urge to move, no inclination to fight against the drowsiness pulling him back under as sleep claimed him again.


    Many times, he stirred, catching glimpses of Officer Reftia standing over him, watching. But before he could muster the strength to speak, darkness dragged him under once more.


    And there, in that endless half-dream, he was almost happy¡ªcontent to watch his family from the corner of their old living room, a silent ghost. He could''ve stayed that way his entire life.


    But eventually, his body recovered enough for him to stay awake.


    "Ahh¡­ fuck," he muttered, voice hoarse as he forced himself into a sitting position.


    Across from him, Officer Reftia sat by the fire, cooking meat over her daggers. The blades sizzled as they absorbed the heat, acting as makeshift pans. She didn''t even glance up.


    "You''re finally awake, huh?"


    "Yeah¡­" Arthur groaned, rubbing his temples. "How long was I out?"


    "A week."


    He froze. "Bullshit."


    She met his gaze briefly, then looked away. "It wasn''t your injuries that did it."


    A creeping unease settled in his stomach. "¡­Then what?"


    Reftia didn''t answer right away. Instead, she took a deep breath, her fingers tightening around the dagger in her grip. When she finally spoke, her voice was quieter¡ªcalmer. But there was a weight behind it.


    "Tell me something first, Arthur," she said. "How am I still alive?"


    He blinked, caught off guard by the question. "What? Healing blood, remember?"


    Her grip on the dagger tightened. "I''ve seen how effective your blood is. It shouldn''t have been enough to heal a wound like that."


    Arthur hesitated. "¡­I figured out how to make it stronger. I infused my blood with mana."


    She nodded, as if that answer should have been enough. For a moment, he thought she would let it go.


    Then¡ª


    "How did you have any mana left?"


    His breath hitched. Somehow, he knew¡ªdeep down¡ªthat admitting the truth would be dangerous. So he forced a grin, throwing on his usual charm. "You know me, been training my mana efficie-"


    A dagger whistled past his ear, embedding itself into the wall behind him.


    "Don''t lie."


    Her voice was dangerously low.


    This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    Arthur swallowed hard, his eyes flicking to the remaining dagger still in her hand. ''How many of those does she even have?''


    "I, uh¡­" He let out a nervous chuckle. "I used my natural mana."


    Reftia''s expression darkened. "You mean life mana?"


    Arthur stilled. That title sounded¡­ worse.


    "Uh¡ªmaybe?"


    The second dagger slammed into the ground between them.


    "You fucking idiot."


    She shot to her feet, her whole body trembling with rage. "Do you have any idea how dangerous that is? You could''ve died, Arthur! You almost did! Life mana isn''t some backup reservoir you can just tap into! Do you even realize¡ªif you''d used it all, that would''ve been it! No coming back! You were barely hanging on for the past week! I had to force-feed you monster blood just to keep you alive!"


    Arthur recoiled at the outburst, but anger flared inside him, just as fierce.


    "So fucking what?" he snapped, his composure cracking. "You nearly died for me! You want me to start lecturing you about how idiotic that was? I''m alive. You''re alive. So just drop it, alright?"


    Reftia clenched her jaw, nostrils flaring. She looked like she wanted to say more¡ªto keep screaming at him¡ªbut, thankfully, she controlled herself.


    She sat back down with a sharp breath, turning her attention back to the cooking meat.


    Arthur exhaled, trying to shake the lingering frustration from his chest.


    "¡­Where are we, anyway?" he asked, desperate for a change of topic.


    "The lowest level," she muttered. "Right before the boss floor."


    His stomach dropped. "Wait¡ªwhat? How the hell did we get here?"


    Reftia smirked. "Simple. I''d hide you, kill everything in our path, then set up camp. Rinse and repeat for the past week."


    She reached into her pouch and pulled out four small vials, each filled halfway with dark red liquid.


    Arthur''s eye twitched.


    "¡­You stole my blood."


    She shrugged. "Had to make you pull your weight somehow."


    He let out a heavy sigh. ''Does she even know what consent is?''


    "So while I was unconscious, naturally recovering my life mana, you were busy slaughtering everything in sight." ''And stealing my blood like a pervert'' he added silently to himself.


    She nodded.


    "¡­Fuck, you must be strong."


    A smug grin spread across her face.


    "I am."


    Arthur groaned, flopping back onto the floor.


    For a while, there was only the crackling fire between them. Then, without looking at her, Arthur asked the same question that had been on his mind since, well, a week ago.


    "Hey¡­ why did you join the rebellion?"


    Reftia didn''t answer immediately.


    "What if I don''t want to tell you?" she asked.


    "I''d say¡ªremember, I saved your life."


    She snorted. "And I saved yours."


    "Yeah, but I already told you why I signed up. Gotta make it even."


    Reftia sighed heavily, twirling the dagger between her fingers. "¡­It''s not a great story."


    Arthur stayed silent, waiting.


    "I was a teacher," she said at last. "When the rebellion started, I didn''t think much of it. I figured it wouldn''t affect us. I mean¡­ I taught kids. No way they''d get drafted, right?"


    A bitter chuckle left her lips.


    "But I was wrong. By the end of the year, every single one of my students was dead. Killed by the Empire''s soldiers."


    Her voice cracked.


    "So I signed up. Because I was sick of seeing children die before adults, it''s not right."


    The weight of her words pressed down on them both, suffocating the space between them.


    ''He didn''t want to pry against the logic. After all, despite all of this, she was sent to investigate him for being a spy. And well, he was a spy.''


    Instead he let out a small, sad smile. "I wish I had a teacher like you when I was a kid. Maybe I would''ve turned out better than I have. Maybe I wouldn''t have made the same mistakes."


    Reftia scoffed. "You turned out alright, Arthur."


    He wasn''t so sure.


    For the first time in a long time, he thought about home¡ªabout his little sister. About the life he used to live. Well, the life the old Arthur used to live. It was getting harder to be able to differentiate between the two lives. He remembered how he treated the people around him, the way he acted. The pain he went through alone...forgotten.


    It was funny. When he had first arrived in this world, he had felt nothing at being exiled. The only thing that had hurt was being accused of something he didn''t do. That had been the old Arthur, not him.


    But now¡­ now he missed it.


    Missed them.


    Reftia was oblivious to his thoughts. "So?" she asked. "When the war''s over, what do you want to do?"


    Arthur blinked. "What, after the war?"


    "Obviously."


    He frowned, thinking. "Well, I want to go to school." That was the reason why he had begged for a change in his sentence. So he''d gain an opportunity to go to the academy in two years. So he could finally get stronger.


    Reftia raised an eyebrow. "And after that?"


    He opened his mouth¡ªthen paused.


    He¡­ hadn''t really thought about it. Survival had always been his only goal.


    "¡­I don''t know."


    Reftia smirked. "Then think of something."


    So he did.


    It took a moment, but when the answer came to him, he smiled¡ªsomething warm and certain settling in his chest.


    "I got it," he said.


    Reftia leaned forward. "Well?"


    "I want to be a traveling author."


    Silence.


    Then¡ª


    She burst into laughter.


    Arthur scowled. "What? It''s a good dream!"


    Still chuckling, she shook her head. "No, no¡ªit is."


    She met his eyes, a small smile playing on her lips, barely holding back another wave of laughter.


    "It''s a really good dream, Arthur."


    He smiled. "Imagine it Reftia. I''d get to explore the world. I''d see new things every day, I''d get to travel in peace. Living life on my own terms. I''d have no responsibilities apart from putting food in my belly and finding a rock to rest my head. And maybe...on the rare burst of creativity, I''d write a few tales of my own. I call that a good dream to have."


    She nodded again. "I guess it does sound nice. It sounds....freeing."


    ................


    The next day he and Officer Reftia stood side by side, weapons ready. Before them stretched the final cavern that would lead to the boss room.


    In his hand he gripped the spear he had discarded for Ikaris a week ago when fighting those Direwolves. He was lucky Officer Reftia had picked it up for him.


    "Ready Arthur?"


    He let out a short laugh. "Fuck no."


    She snorted. "With that attitude you''d be better of as bait."

 Chapter 34 - Boss Monster

    Arthur felt it the moment they stepped into the boss room. The air itself thickened, humming with an unnatural charge, as if the very walls were alive with mana. His breath came slower, his muscles tensed instinctively. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to be ready.


    Across the massive cavern, seated upon a throne of jagged stone, was the monster. It slouched lazily, its massive, green-skinned form illuminated by the torches burning with an eerie blue flame. It was grotesquely large¡ªtwice the size of any man, its muscles knotted and gnarled like the roots of an ancient tree. Long, yellowed tusks jutted from its lower jaw, and its bloodshot eyes, brimming with a twisted intelligence, locked onto them with sickening amusement.


    It stared at them much like a child would when given new toys.


    Resting against the throne, its weapon gleamed¡ªa greatsword, jagged and brutal, its blackened steel crusted with dried blood.


    "Shit," Officer Reftia muttered under her breath, fingers twitching toward her daggers. "It''s a Goblin Chief."


    Arthur exhaled sharply, rolling his shoulders. "I mean," he mused, gripping his spear tighter, "one enemy isn''t too bad. Should be easy, right?"


    The Goblin Chief''s head cocked slightly, as if considering his words. Then, it grinned.


    The roar that followed shook the cavern, a deafening, guttural command that rattled Arthur''s bones. The shadows around them shifted¡ªno, they moved.


    Hundreds of goblins flooded in from every crevice, every tunnel. Not the feeble, scrappy creatures Arthur had fought before. These things were monsters¡ªeach one standing as tall as a man, their sinewy muscles flexing beneath scarred and battle-worn skin. Their jagged teeth clacked together in anticipation, rusted weapons gripped with white-knuckled intensity.


    Arthur swallowed.


    "You just had to open your damn mouth," Reftia groaned.


    "Fuck me¡­" Arthur exhaled, shifting into a stance. "I need some of what they''re eating."


    ''Mana surge.''


    Mana surged through his veins, a violent flood of power that burned through his limbs, searing away exhaustion. His vision sharpened, the world slowing into crystal-clear detail. Every twitch of movement, every flicker of breath from the approaching horde¡ªhe could see it all.


    And then, the massacre began.


    Arthur flowed through the horde like a living inferno, his spear carving a path of searing death. Each movement was instinct, honed and sharpened by battle. A parry, a thrust¡ªfour arcs of fire followed in its wake, burning everything in its path. The technique he had invented against the Direwolves now found its name. Fireclaw.


    ''Strangely fitting.''


    A goblin lunged at him with a jagged axe. He twisted, letting the blow sail past before driving his spear through its throat. Fire surged from the wound, consuming the creature from the inside out. Another enemy came from behind. Arthur spun, his spear a whirling blaze, slicing through flesh and bone as though they were paper.


    He didn''t stop. He couldn''t stop.


    The rhythm of war took hold. Dodge. Strike. Parry. Kill. Every move seamless, an extension of his body. A goblin roared, charging with a rusted sword raised high. Instead of striking, Arthur threw out his free hand¡ªflames erupted from his palm, setting the creature alight just as he rammed into it with his full weight. The burning goblin crashed into its kin, the fire spreading, their shrieks piercing the cavern like a twisted symphony of agony.


    Still, they came.


    Arthur welcomed them.


    His grin widened as he dodged and struck with growing ferocity. He was winning. He was strong enough. He could¡ª


    A shadow loomed over him.


    His instincts screamed.


    Arthur barely rolled aside before a massive greatsword slammed into the earth where he stood. The cavern trembled. Rock splintered beneath the force. A lesser warrior would have been obliterated.


    The Goblin Chief had finally entered the fray.


    Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    Arthur''s heart pounded as he looked up. The beast was closer now, its monstrous form even more terrifying at such a distance. Bloodshot eyes locked onto him with cold fury, and the Chief wrenched its blade free from the cratered ground with terrifying ease.


    No hesitation. No fear. He''d seen death too many times now to stutter in front of it. Arthur moved.


    ''Shooting Star.''


    His spear ignited with scarlet flames, the heat so intense that the metal itself began to liquefy. The air warped around him, his body vibrating from the sheer force of the power coursing through him. Then¡ª


    Boom.


    Arthur became a streak of fire, a meteor tearing through the battlefield.


    The Goblin Chief barely had time to react before Arthur''s spear tore through its midsection. The impact sent a shockwave rippling through the cavern, the force so great that the nearest goblins were thrown back, their bodies crushed against the jagged rock.


    Arthur reappeared two meters away, gasping, his limbs trembling as exhaustion hit him like a crashing wave.


    He dropped to his knees, struggling to breathe. His vision blurred. His body screamed in protest. ''Too much. Too fast.''


    But it worked.


    Through his hazy sight, he saw the Goblin Chief stagger. Blood¡ªthick and black¡ªpoured from the gaping wound splitting its torso. It gurgled, swaying on its feet, then fell to its knees.


    Arthur''s heart pounded as realization sank in.


    He had done it. He had killed a boss monster.


    He grinned through ragged breaths. Victory.


    But then¡ª


    The Goblin Chief chuckled.


    Arthur''s blood ran cold.


    The Goblin Chief turned to face Arthur, its bloodshot eyes burning with a seething, unnatural hate. A deep, ominous hum filled the cavern as a sickly purple glow pulsed from its body, intensifying with each passing second.


    Arthur''s breath hitched. ''Is it going to self-destruct?''


    The goblins around them froze. Every single one. Their snarls silenced, their movements stilled. The sudden halt in battle left both Arthur and Officer Reftia disoriented. Then¡ª


    The goblins began to glow.


    The same malevolent purple light bled from their bodies, spreading like a plague. Their limbs convulsed, muscles bulging, bones cracking as their flesh stretched and warped.


    And then¡ªthe Goblin Chief crumbled into dust.


    Arthur''s heart pounded. ''Did it fail?''


    No. Of course not.


    He wasn''t that lucky.


    The moment the last remnants of the chief disintegrated, the goblins howled in unison. Their bodies shifted, growing grotesquely larger, sinew stretching over their bulging frames. Their eyes, once dim, now burned with a bloodthirsty gleam.


    Arthur''s stomach dropped.


    "Fuck."


    A colossal goblin lunged at him. He barely rolled away, hitting the ground hard as claws raked the space where he had just stood. He scrambled to his feet, raising his spear¡ªonly to watch in horror as it crumbled into dust in his hands.


    His mind screamed. Ikaris! He had to summon it¡ªbut hesitation froze him. ''What if Officer Reftia sees? What if she realizes what I really am?''


    That single flicker of doubt cost him.


    Pain exploded through him.


    Blood sprayed across the cavern floor.


    Arthur staggered, his mind barely processing the gory reality¡ªhis right arm was gone. A mangled stump remained where flesh and bone had been moments before.


    A scream tore from his throat, raw and primal.


    Another shadow loomed.


    Too slow.


    The next blow came like a guillotine.


    Cold steel carved through his thigh, cleaving his left leg clean off. He crashed onto the stone with a sickening thud, blood pooling beneath him in a growing crimson lake.


    His vision blurred. His body shook violently from blood loss.


    Arthur turned his head, desperate, searching for Reftia¡ªsomeone¡ªto save him.


    But she was too busy fighting for her own survival.


    His fingers twitched. His body wouldn''t move. He was too weak. Too slow. Too fucking pathetic.


    ''So this is how I die, huh? What a shit fucking death.''


    Then¡ª


    A notification flickered into his vision.


    [Sun''s Concept is evolving...]


    [Healing Blood has now become Regenerative Blood...]


    Hope flared¡ªonly to be ripped away.


    [Error!]


    [Insufficient Mana for Regenerative Blood]


    Arthur choked on a breath.


    ''No. No. No. Fuck! Not now!''


    Another notification appeared.


    [Hade''s Will is evolving...]


    [New Ability ¨C Possession Unlocked]


    [1 Soul Found]


    Arthur''s vision wavered. His body was dying. His mind was crumbling.


    A final prompt.


    [Do you accept?]


    [ Y / N ]


    His hand twitched in the blood-soaked dirt.


    His lips curled in a defiant snarl. If he was going to die, might as well go with a bang.


    "Yes."


    Power surged through him¡ªraw, violent, absolute. His body, broken and bleeding, felt suddenly whole. The sensation was intoxicating, a flood of overwhelming mana and something else¡ªsomething darker.


    Then, the final notification blinked.


    [Error...]


    [User''s Ego is currently fragile.]


    [User''s Ego is being corrupted...]


    Arthur''s mind started cracking. He grit his teeth trying to stop it, but it was too late.


    His mind shattered.


    ¡­......................


    Officer Reftia moved like a phantom, her daggers slicing through the air in blurs of steel and death. Every step was calculated, every strike precise.


    She reached out with her mind affinity, twisting the emotions of the goblins around her. They had grown stronger¡ªgrotesquely stronger¡ªbut they were still beasts. Their minds had not evolved. That meant they were still privy to her control.


    She wove her influence into them, sowing hesitation, whispering doubt into their primitive thoughts. ''Hesitation buys time. And time is what I need.''


    Arthur¡­


    He couldn''t survive this. Whatever he had done to the boss, it was clear it wasn''t something he could repeat.


    Reftia''s body blurred forward, mana surging through her legs, propelling her past the lumbering monsters. She weaved between their wild swings, one goal in mind¡ªget to Arthur.


    ''I should never have let him fight alone.''


    Then she saw him.


    And she froze.


    Arthur stood in the carnage, still fighting.


    But it wasn''t Arthur.


    That person, with Arthur''s black hair and dark eyes¡ªit wasn''t him.


    A thick, oppressive aura bled from his body, coating the battlefield in an unnatural darkness. A killing intent so raw, so refined, that it made her stomach lurch. His eyes¡ªvoid of warmth, void of hesitation¡ªheld the cold, detached precision of a man who had butchered for a lifetime.


    He wasn''t fighting.


    He was executing.


    His movements were perfect. Too perfect. Arthur was talented, yes, but still learning. He was nowhere near this level. Yet now¡ª


    Now, he wove through the battlefield with a master''s grace, every strike delivered with bone-crushing, flesh-ripping efficiency.


    And the weapon in his hands¡ª


    It was monstrous.


    A deep crimson blade, pulsing with malevolence, halfway between a sword and a spear. The shaft was as long as a spear, yet the curved blade extended nearly the length of a full sword. A glaive. A weapon meant for nothing less than wholesale slaughter.


    But the worst part¡ª


    The thing standing behind him.


    The dark mana roiled unnaturally around his body, and within its depths, she saw it. A looming, skeletal figure coiled around Arthur, its spine twisting and rising from his back. A hollowed skull leered from the darkness, empty sockets gazing into the void. And in its clawed hands¡ª


    Strings. Bloodied threads pierced into Arthur''s limbs, embedding themselves deep into his flesh, controlling him.


    A puppet.


    The realization sent an involuntary shudder down Reftia''s spine.


    This¡­ This was wrong.


    Arthur moved like he had always fought this way. Not like a man who had discovered a new ability¡ªbut like a warrior who had lived and breathed it for years. It felt like, in this cavern, it was Arthur who was the boss monster, and the goblins were his prey.


    "What the hell?" Reftia whispered, a chill creeping into her bones.


    Was he possessed?


    She stretched out with her affinity, reaching into Arthur''s mind, trying to find him¡ª


    Agony.


    A blinding force shoved her out violently, like a thousand claws raking across her consciousness.


    She stumbled back, gasping, hands flying to her temples as her mind reeled from the backlash.


    And then¡ª


    A flash. A name.


    Her breath hitched.


    ''Who the hell is James Skelter?''

 Chapter 35 - Aftermath

    Duleryon stepped forward, closing the space between them with deliberate menace. His blue eyes¡ªcold as glacial shards¡ªbored into Ravix''s with the weight of a promise.


    "I mean this, Ravix¡ªif I discover you''ve betrayed us, I will kill you myself. And don''t fool yourself into thinking you can best me."


    Lightning crackled at Thanason''s fingertips, his jaw clenched tight. "Traitor? Are you accusing me of something?"


    Duleryon leaned in. "Not an accusation, Ravix. A guarantee."


    Then his Aura flared.


    Scarlet''s breath hitched as a suffocating weight descended upon them. A shroud. A blanket of unnatural calm, dulling emotions¡ªsmothering them. The air grew thick, heavy with an unnatural stillness.


    She clenched her fists, gritting her teeth as she resisted¡ªbarely.


    The surrounding soldiers weren''t as lucky.


    They stood motionless, eyes blank, their minds numbed to all feelings. No fear. No anticipation. No anger. Just¡­ nothing.


    ''So this is his Aura'', Scarlet thought, straining under its oppressive weight. ''A man who can strip away the will to fight. How dangerous.''


    Then¡ª


    "STOP!"


    The Aura snapped back, vanishing in an instant.


    Scarlet exhaled sharply, forcing air into her lungs. The crushing stillness lifted, and the soldiers¡ªblinking rapidly¡ªbegan to stir, confusion flickering in their eyes.


    She turned toward the voice¡ª


    And froze.


    Officer Reftia stood at the entrance, breath ragged, her uniform tattered and streaked with dirt. In her arms-


    Arthur.


    His unconscious form was draped over her shoulder, his face deathly pale. Blood and mud clung to him, staining his clothes, but, somehow, his body remained unharmed.


    The fort became unnaturally silent, and then a buzz of whisper erupted.


    Duleryon''s voice cut through like ice. "Reftia." His previous fury was gone, replaced by a calm far more unnerving. "Explain."


    Reftia approached Scarlet first, carefully handing over Arthur''s limp form. The weight of his body against Scarlet''s arms sent an unexpected wave of relief through her.


    He was alive.


    Turning back to Duleryon, Reftia straightened, forcing the exhaustion from her voice. "We were trapped in a dungeon, sir. It was my decision¡ªI wanted to scout it for potential vulnerabilities, to see if the Empire could use it as an alternative route. While inside¡­ Cadet Arthur saved my life. Repeatedly."


    Her voice wavered only slightly, but Scarlet caught it.


    "We fought until the bitter end and barely escaped. Arthur collapsed from severe mana exhaustion during the final battle, so I carried him back."


    Duleryon''s eyes narrowed. "And the dungeon?"


    "Gone, sir. Sealed. I collapsed the pathway myself after the dungeon closed."


    Duleryon considered her for a long moment. Then, with a short nod, he turned away.


    "Good. You''re exhausted. Submit a full report in two days." He walked a few paces, then paused. "Oh¡­ and I suppose the boy did well enough."


    Without another word, he left.


    Scarlet let out a slow breath, adjusting Arthur''s weight against her. Alive. And, judging by Reftia''s carefully chosen words, he had managed to keep his identity hidden.


    ''Good. That will buy us time.''


    Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of Noah.


    Outwardly, he appeared calm. But his fists¡ªclenched so tightly his knuckles were turning white¡ªtold a different story.


    Scarlet smiled softly. ''They''ve grown close.''


    ''Not that I didn''t see it coming.''


    ¡­.....


    Arthur''s mind shattered.


    His consciousness splintered into fragments, tossed helplessly through memories that were not his own.


    He was five. Walking beside his parents. They promised to buy him a real sword!


    He was older now. A beggar, alone.


    He met Red. He killed someone.


    Red died.


    He found Red''s sister. He joined the army. She joined, too. He''d have to keep an eye on her.


    The old man''s family finally forgave him. It had only taken fifteen years.


    He was getting married.


    He was a father.


    Syar offered him an apprenticeship. He rejected it. Accepting meant giving up his family. Nothing¡ªnothing¡ªwas worth that.


    He had to assassinate someone today.


    Had to poison another man''s wife.


    Had to¡ª


    Arthur.


    Arthur.


    The voice rang through the storm. His storm.


    He grasped at himself, forcing himself back together, clawing his way out of a mind that wasn''t his.


    ''I am Arthur.''


    SNAP.


    His eyes opened.


    And he was fighting.


    Goblins fell before him in a blur of steel and blood¡ªeach strike swift, lethal. Precise.


    Yet¡­ it wasn''t him.


    He was watching.


    Something else was controlling his hands, his body¡ªhis very instincts. Something had shoved him aside, leaving him an observer in his own skin.


    Then¡ª


    A notification appeared.


    [USER IS REVERSING EGO CORRUPTION¡­..]


    CORRUPTION 95%


    USER''S EGO 5%


    [USER HAS GAINED TEMPORARY SKILLS]


    ADVANCED IMPERIAL SPEAR STYLE LVL 10 (100%)


    SHADOW AFFINITY (LVL 8 ¨C 90%)


    ''What?''


    He could feel the strength coursing through his limbs, the mastery in each motion.


    ''How?''


    As if responding to his very thoughts, another notification blinked into existence.


    [Possession ¨C grants User the abilities of those whose souls they have captured. The number of abilities depends on the level of ego corruption. The higher the corruption, the more abilities are given.]


    Conditions:


    If Ego Corruption exceeds 50%, User loses control of their body.


    To capture a soul, User must have an empathetic connection with the deceased.


    Cooldown: 1 month


    1/3 SOULS CAPTURED:


    JAMES SKELTER.


    Arthur wanted to laugh.


    ''Of course it''d be you.''


    Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.


    Ever since Officer Skelter''s death, he had come to realize just how remarkable the man was. His past, his family, his sheer will.


    And yet, Arthur thought, I never even knew him.


    Then¡ª


    His body paused.


    Arthur snapped his attention away from the notifications.


    The battlefield was silent. The goblins lay dead at his feet.


    And yet¡­ his body wasn''t done killing.


    Ikaris gleamed in his hand, its tip aimed directly at¡ª


    Officer Reftia.


    Arthur lunged.


    Ikaris spun in a deadly arc, his hands wielding it with masterful lethality¡ªyet they weren''t his hands.


    Reftia barely dodged, eyes wide. "Snap out of it, Arthur!" she bellowed, voice sharp with urgency.


    But Arthur wasn''t the one in control.


    ''Shit. Why is Skelter trying to kill her?''


    Then¡ªunderstanding hit him like a blade.


    James Skelter had been the Dog of the Empire. A man who slaughtered rebels for years. And now? His instincts saw Reftia¡ªa rebel¡ªas his enemy.


    Arthur clenched his mind like a fist, pushing against the force holding him captive.


    [Corruption Reversing¡­..81%¡­ 78%¡­ 75%¡­ 74%¡­]


    It was hard.


    Skelter was a man who had lived a full life. He had a wife. A child. A reason to keep going.


    Arthur?


    He had nothing.


    No reason to live. No purpose, except¡ª


    Except that he wanted to.


    A memory flickered through the chaos.


    Officer Reftia''s voice.


    A quiet conversation.


    A dream.


    "I want to be a traveling author."


    And then¡ªhe smiled. Actually smiled. The lips on his face twitched, the expression tiny...yet real.


    [Corruption Reversing¡­..55%¡­ 50%¡­ 49%¡­ 40%¡­]


    [User has regained control over their body.]


    Error.


    [Insufficient mana. Possession skill deactivating¡­]


    Arthur''s body shuddered, the attack halting mid-swing. His limbs trembled, his grip on Ikaris loosening as he stumbled backward.


    Reftia didn''t move.


    She watched him.


    Warily.


    Arthur exhaled, then dismissed Ikaris. The glow in her eyes softened, if only slightly.


    "Are you back?" she asked cautiously.


    Arthur gave a weak smile¡ª


    And collapsed.


    ¡­...


    Arthur awoke with a groan.


    Light streamed in through the window, warm and golden. His body ached¡ªa dull, bone-deep exhaustion settling into every muscle.


    ''Huh. I''m in bed. Am I in heaven?''


    Then, Mat''s snoring rattled the walls.


    Arthur sighed.


    ''No, not heaven.


    Hell.''


    He groaned again, rolling over. Honestly, why did it feel like he lost consciousness and woke up in bed every other day? People were going to start thinking he had some sort of princess complex.


    He sat up. The sheets rustled.


    And that''s when he realized.


    He was naked.


    Arthur froze.


    Then, in record time, he yanked on a pair of army trousers and a shirt, shaking his head. Sleeping without armor for once had felt nice¡ªvery nice. But waking up like this? Not so much.


    Judging by the quiet outside, it was either early morning or the squad had been given a day off. Either way, he wasn''t about to waste the rare peace.


    And¡­ if he could, he wanted to find Officer Reftia.


    He owed her an apology.


    Big time.


    First, he had nearly gotten her killed. Then, she''d been stuck watching over him for a week. And after all that? He''d almost killed her himself.


    Arthur sighed, ruffling his hair. Yeah. I was a complete liability in that dungeon.


    The memories flickered¡ªmortifying and persistent. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn''t shake them.


    He hesitated at the door.


    ''Hold up¡­ if I go to her barracks, is she going to think something weird?''


    Actually¡­ wait.


    ''Where even were her barracks?''


    He frowned, debating whether this was a terrible idea. "Should I just go back?" he muttered under his breath.


    "Who are you looking for?"


    A voice¡ªcalm, measured, female¡ªcut through the quiet.


    Arthur turned, startled.


    Officer Reftia stood behind him.


    Dressed in full uniform, her white hair spilled freely over her shoulders, stark against the crisp fabric.


    "For you," he said before he could think better of it.


    Her dark eyes studied him. "And why''s that?"


    Arthur winced. "Because you saved my life a dozen times and I, uh¡­ almost killed you."


    She smiled. Not mocking. Not bitter. Just¡­ curious.


    "Do you want to tell me what happened?"


    Arthur hesitated.


    "Can I say no?"


    A pause. Then, she nodded. "Sure. You saved my life, too, after all."


    For some reason, that response made his throat feel tight.


    But then¡ª


    She asked, "Just tell me one thing, Arthur. Who is James Skelter?"


    Arthur stiffened.


    His breath caught. "How do you know that name?"


    Reftia''s expression didn''t change. "Your mind was weak. I tried using my abilities. It didn''t work." A slight tilt of her head. "All I got back was a name. James Skelter."


    Arthur slowly relaxed.


    So, she didn''t know the truth. For a second, he had worried she had uncovered his real identity.


    He considered her question. Who was James Skelter?


    A soldier. A killer. A husband. A father. A man so deeply entrenched in the Empire''s bloodstained hands that even in death, his instincts still fought for it.


    Arthur exhaled.


    "I¡­" He met her gaze. "I''m not sure right now."


    She didn''t press. Just nodded.


    Arthur smiled. It felt real. But deep down, he knew¡ªit wasn''t.


    ''One day'', he thought. ''One day, we''re going to try to kill each other.''


    The knowledge settled heavily in his chest.


    It was sad.


    But that was the hard truth of it. They were enemies. And the day would come. When something would have to be done about that.