Ray was roughly hauled up by several soldiers and hurled onto a wagon loaded with provisions. A few ropes quickly bound his body tight. In the darkness, someone struck him several times in the ribs — from the dull, bone-deep pain, it was clear the man wore metal gauntlets, likely a knight clad in armor. Through the haze of agony, Ray dimly heard someone mutter, "This lad's luck is extraordinary — to be ennobled as the highest-ranking family knight…"
The whispers faded into more blows. Fists thudded into his side until his ribs nearly snapped. The wagon jolted forward, creaking into motion, while mocking voices rose beside him. "Still, that title of his won't do him any good… Lord Karin's childish whims are getting out of hand. Look at the leather armor on this wretch — three silver coins would buy it back. Surely our lord doesn't care about such pocket change?"
A softer snicker followed. "Pocket change? The lord's been so short on money he even swindled a copper out of Sharin. Ha, ha… with our spies planted inside the Fante Empire, no wonder—"
A sharp thud cut the laughter short — the sound of a fist colliding with a face. A cold, commanding voice snapped, "Silence. Do you want to die?"
The murmurs ceased. A heavy hand struck Ray's skull, and the same severe voice growled low beside his ear: "Stay still, boy, or you're dead. And if you dare breathe a word about Lord Karin's knighting you, I'll slit your throat myself. Understand? Such a thing is a disgrace to us knights. Damn you—why weren't you slain on the battlefield where you belong?"
Ray licked his cracked lips and whispered hoarsely, "Were… were all of them killed?"
The man was silent for a moment, perhaps startled that Ray could still speak. Then, with a trace of smugness, he muttered, "Of course. We launched our full assault on your Fante Empire. Under Lord Karin's command — the Empire's famed prodigy — annihilating your band of peasants was nothing."
Ray began to tremble violently; every muscle in his body quivered as his teeth chattered uncontrollably. "But… why?" he gasped. "Why did you have to kill them all? Why everyone?"
A low chuckle answered him. "Foolish boy, our goal is to claim your entire Xili Province, then strike deeper into your empire's heartland. To weaken your local strength serves us well. Once we cull the strong youth, ruling Xili will be easy. Had we waited to slaughter them after taking the province, the whole continent would rage against us. But your dear Duke Green delivered you to us himself — I sometimes wonder if that 'beloved' duke of yours isn't one of our spies."
Karin's gentle voice drifted through the darkness. "Ah, you idiot — telling my battle plans to this boy, are you? Still, since everyone's dead, there's little harm done. Duke Green… well, he's actually quite a nice man, you know. Heh."
Somewhere, Karin found a wooden rod and brought it down hard on Ray's skull. Darkness swallowed him.
When he next awoke, the sun was already high. Standing before him, boot planted on his chest, was Shabok — Karin's personal guard captain, one of the few knights in the Smart Empire whose strength rivaled the Fante's elite. His iron boots pressed down cruelly as he sneered, "Awake now, boy? Good. By my master Lord Karin's command, I shall teach you the nature of battle aura."
He raised a fist, and to Ray's astonishment, his hand seemed to swell, surrounded by a fiery red glow that whistled sharply in the air. "This," Shabok said proudly, "is the power that bursts forth when one's inner energy is ignited and released through years of training."
With a roar, his punch struck the ground beside Ray's head. The impact flung Ray several feet into the air before he crashed back down, dazed and half-conscious. When he blinked through the dust, a crater over two meters wide and several deep gaped where the blow had landed.
"See?" Shabok gloated. "That was but half my strength — enough to rival advanced magic. To harness one's inner energy is to command true might. But don't think everyone can cultivate battle aura. Only the strong of body can endure it. That's why the Fante Empire allows only Bronze-ranked knights and above to train — lesser men's bodies would simply collapse."
Ray, trembling, whispered, "Then… how does one train this battle aura?"
Shabok frowned and muttered, "Lord Karin has truly given me a troublesome task. My methods are among the Empire's finest — how can I teach them to a mere peasant?" He hesitated, then suddenly drove a fist into Ray's abdomen. Ray screamed — yet there was no pain. The blow carried no force at all. Flushed with shame at his own fear, he struggled to rise, but his body, battered and bruised, trembled with exhaustion.
Yet, something strange stirred within him. From the spot where Shabok's fist had landed, a faint but resilient warmth began to flow, coursing slowly through his body. Strength trickled back into his limbs.
He managed to stand. Shabok scowled impatiently. "What are you doing, wasting my time? Hmph. Still, since you're a soldier, you deserve some respect. Listen well. To cultivate inner energy, one must guide the body's breath through several main meridians, refining the flesh to store greater power. Strengthen the body — strengthen the aura. That is the essence of battle qi."
Ray nodded faintly, not understanding half of it. Shabok continued gruffly, "Now, I'll tell you the meridians' paths. Keep that flow moving, and train your body hard — or your own growing power will tear you apart. Don't say I didn't warn you."
Though Shabok had not lied, he had been cunning — he taught only the simplest of foundations, withholding the true family techniques that shaped usable power. Ray could build energy, yes, but he'd never wield it.
Still, for Ray, this was revelation. The concept of meridians and inner force was a world beyond his imagining. Despite his exhaustion, his sharp mind grasped the principles quickly, and Shabok, satisfied, barked a laugh. "Good. My task is done. From here, you're on your own. Hah! If you think this method's useless, go invent your own. Perhaps you'll be the next great master!"
Ray stared blankly. Wasn't battle aura supposed to be a mighty warrior's secret art? Create his own? What nonsense was this?
Shabok chuckled darkly. "My duty is fulfilled. To make things easier for you, I've even left a wisp of my own energy in your body. That will help you sense your inner flow — no teacher needed."
Turning to the others, he ordered, "This lad's learned enough. Give him some rations and release him. We've wasted enough time."
The surrounding knights smirked knowingly — to them, Ray was merely a curiosity, a peasant plaything spared only by Lord Karin's caprice. None imagined he would ever be more than that.
Shabok's men handed him a bag of dry rations and a horse. "Count yourself lucky," Shabok sneered. "You were to be held three days, but since it's wartime, we'll let you go early. You've been out cold a day and a night already — close enough. Now get lost. And if you ever scrape together a hundred gold coins, come to the Imperial Capital and buy back that fine leather armor of yours — worth maybe three silver at best. Hah!"
Laughter erupted around him. Even the knights could barely stand from amusement.
Ray sat dazed in the saddle. A day and a night… then where am I now?
A soldier slapped the horse's hindquarters, and it bolted northward.
He had ridden barely three hundred meters when he wheeled the horse around and galloped back toward Karin's camp. Spears lowered instantly, a hundred points glinting before him as wary soldiers braced for attack.
Karin watched curiously. "Back so soon, boy? Have you come to surrender? I can't take you — you're my prisoner, and without you, I can't claim my promotion to Black Iron rank!"
Ray steadied himself in the saddle and stared at him, voice cold and deliberate. "Karin."
Gasps rippled through the ranks. Shabok's men drew their swords, shouting, "Insolent wretch! How dare you address the lord by name!"
Karin raised a hand to stop them, smiling. "Easy, gentlemen. The common folk must learn manners — one must add Lord Karin, or Sir Karin, or His Excellency Karin. Didn't your Fante nobles teach you such courtesies?"
Ray's face darkened. "Karin, we are enemies. Must I show respect to the man who slaughtered my comrades? I swear, by my mother's soul, I will kill you. I will kill you with my own hands."
The hatred radiating from him made even Shabok flinch. In that moment, Ray was no longer a beaten peasant, but a wounded beast, wild and unbroken.
Karin's smile faltered. "War truly is unpleasant. In the capital, no one dares threaten me like this… Well, only on the battlefield could such things happen."
He shrugged lightly. "Very well. Tell me your name."
"Ray," he hissed.
"Ray? Not bad. A simple name for a simple man." Karin turned, waving lazily. "If you survive, you may hunt me down someday. I'll be in the Smart army for a few more years. After that, you can find me in the capital — if you're still alive."
Ray's glare lingered one last time before he spurred the horse away, riding clumsily, barely keeping his balance.
Karin watched him go, murmuring, "Ray… ah, the one who nearly ruined my face with an arrow. I'll have to wear armor next time — safety first! If I die, the ladies of the capital will weep for weeks."
Half a day's ride later, his body raw from the saddle, Ray finally collapsed. "Damn it," he groaned. "Being a knight is agony. Riding is hell itself…"
As he lay gasping, three gleaming swords pressed against his throat, heart, and belly. Around him stood soldiers in silver armor, bearing the emblem of a howling wolf's head. Ray's eyes widened. "You— you're Imperial soldiers! You finally came! Gods, if only you'd arrived a day earlier…"
The lead knight frowned. "You ride a Smart horse and carry their supplies. Who are you?"
"I am Ray, archer of the Seventeenth Provisional Corps of Xili Province, under Commander Klaus!" he cried.
The knight's eyes narrowed. "Where is your armor? Your weapon? Why do you bear enemy gear? What happened to Ironblood Fortress?"
Ray's face fell. In a cracked voice, he whispered, "We were annihilated. The Smart army filled the fortress with magic crystals and a powder they call 'fire powder.' They blew the entire stronghold apart."
A tremor passed through the ranks. The knight shouted, "Lies! Ironblood Fortress is second only to the Imperial Citadel itself! How could it be destroyed?"
"I swear it's true!" Ray cried desperately. "They destroyed everything — everyone!"
The men struck him in fury, unable to accept the truth. Yet when they finally reached the blackened ruins, even the most hardened soldiers stood frozen. The proud symbol of their empire had vanished — nothing remained but ash and corpses.
Dragged to the Silver Wolf Legion's main camp, Ray was thrown before its commander, Count Balu — a lean man with sharp yellow eyes and a violet cloak, his strange, wide-bladed sword resting by his chair.
Balu studied him coldly. "So, you're Ray? Tell me, if your entire army perished, where were you these past two days?"
Under that piercing gaze, Ray trembled uncontrollably and recounted everything.
When he finished, Balu's questions came swift as arrows. "Their commander, Karin — what sort of man is he? How old? What rank of mage?"
Ray stammered, "No more than twenty… When he came to our camp, he was called a Phoenix Mage, but others called him 'Elder' or even 'Archmage.' I don't know how powerful he truly is…"
Balu's expression hardened. "And their numbers?"
"I—I couldn't tell. Their camp stretched farther than I could see."
"And when you left them?"
"They were… withdrawing," Ray said, confusion creasing his brow. "They destroyed the fortress, then suddenly began to retreat. I don't know why."
The generals exchanged uneasy looks. Balu growled, "Enough. We cannot chase an unseen enemy. I have already reported to the capital — reinforcements will come."
But Ray, gathering his courage, asked, "My lord… why did you come so late? If you'd arrived a day sooner, none of this would have happened!"
Balu slammed a fist on the table. "You dare blame me? Had we arrived earlier, we'd have shared your fate! Do you wish the Empire's finest to die in vain?"
He called for a mage — an old man named Meco, draped in black. Meco's eyes glowed green as he murmured incantations, drawing Ray into his power. Under that mental compulsion, Ray confessed everything — even his longing to return home and till the fields.
When it ended, Meco wiped sweat from his brow and said, "He speaks the truth. Karin — a prodigy, it seems. Dangerous, perhaps, but not yet too strong."
Balu frowned. "Then why retreat after victory? What game is he playing?"
The fat baron Kalleff interjected eagerly, "Simple! They destroyed the fortress to deny it to us. That was their only goal!"
Balu's sharp gaze cut him down. "If so, why not occupy it themselves? Holding Ironblood would grant them dominion over the entire Wind Plain."
Silence followed.
Balu sighed, his tone softening. "Take this boy to rest. Poor lad… his first battle, and he lived to see his brothers slaughtered. Yet he turned back to curse his enemy's name — that takes courage."
When another commander sneered, "But my lord, he's a peasant who's learned the way of battle aura. What shall we do with him?" Balu merely snorted. "He knows only the most basic form. Let him train as he will — it will give him strength, nothing more. Enroll him in my Silver Wolf Legion. I have no objections."
The others nodded indifferently. To them, Ray was nothing — a nameless pawn in a war of empires.
Yet in that moment, beneath his bruised and bloodied shell, a spark had already kindled — one that no mockery or deceit could ever extinguish.