From afar, a shrill horn sounded, followed by the thunder of a thousand hooves. The Smart army's infantry pressed forward in dense formations, their shields raised high, halberds gleaming beneath the cold moonlight. Behind them surged ranks of armored horsemen, their iron lances poised like a field of razors, advancing with earth-shaking might.
Inside the Silver Wolf camp, Count Balu's command resounded, calm yet steely:
"Archers—loose!"
A storm of arrows streaked skyward, blotting out the stars. The shrieks of men and horses tore through the night as the first wave of the Smart infantry crumpled. Yet before the archers could nock a second volley, the earth erupted—crimson fireballs tore through their ranks, turning men into ash before their screams could even form.
"Raise the barriers!" roared Meko, his staff blazing as runes spiraled around him. Yellow light rippled through the air, a shimmering dome springing up just as another salvo of magic crashed down. The impact thundered like a mountain collapsing, shaking even the rear lines.
Ray, crouched near the supply wagons, covered his head as dirt and debris rained over him. His heart pounded wildly—this was war in its truest, most terrifying form. He could barely breathe amid the suffocating heat of magic and the stench of burning flesh.
"Boy!" a grizzled sergeant barked, tossing him a bow. "You can shoot? Then shoot! Don't just cower there!"
Ray's trembling hands found their way to the bowstring. The weapon felt heavier than iron. His eyes stung from smoke and tears, yet when he glimpsed the enemy surging forward—the same black-armored figures who had slaughtered his comrades—something inside him snapped into focus.
His fingers released.
The arrow hissed through the air and buried itself in the throat of a Smart soldier mid-charge. The man fell without a sound.
A strange calm washed over Ray. He nocked another arrow. Then another. Each one found its mark, as though guided by some unseen hand. His breathing steadied, his aim sharpened, his vision narrowed to a single purpose—kill the enemy.
By dawn, the battlefield was unrecognizable. Smoke hung low, the air heavy with blood and ash. The Silver Wolf Legion still held its ground, though half its banners lay trampled in the mud.
Count Balu, streaked with grime, stood before his battered command tent, his violet cloak torn and blood-soaked. Meko, pale and trembling, leaned heavily on his staff.
Balu's gaze swept across the horizon, where the retreating Smart army vanished into the morning mist. His eyes narrowed.
"They've withdrawn again… This isn't a mere attack. They're probing our strength."
Meko nodded weakly. "Carlin is no ordinary mage. His fire magic… it bears traces of the lost Imperial School. Someone has trained him well."
Balu's brow furrowed. "Then this is only the beginning."
He turned sharply as an officer approached, dragging a soot-streaked young soldier before him. "My lord, this one fought without rest throughout the night. Twenty-two arrows loosed, seventeen confirmed kills."
Balu's sharp eyes settled on Ray. "Your name?"
"Ray," he said hoarsely, his voice cracked from smoke and exhaustion.
The commander's expression softened, almost imperceptibly. "A peasant, yet you shoot like a seasoned ranger."
Meko's weary eyes flicked toward the boy. He could sense the faint pulse of inner energy within Ray's body—unrefined, yet alive. So he truly carries the seed of battle aura…
Balu spoke again. "You'll remain with my legion. Serve well, and you'll earn your rank."
Ray bowed stiffly. "Yes, my lord."
As he turned to leave, Balu's voice halted him. "And one more thing—if ever you meet this mage Carlin again… survive. No glory is worth dying before you've grown strong enough to strike back."
Ray paused, his fists clenching at his sides. His reply was soft, but it burned with quiet fury:
"I will. One day, I'll find him—and I'll find Karin."
Balu nodded, the faintest trace of respect glimmering in his eyes. "Then live long enough to make that vow mean something."
Outside, the dawn finally broke. The smoke began to thin, revealing the scarred plain—a vast graveyard of men, horses, and dreams.
And in the midst of that ruin, a single thought echoed in Ray's mind, clear and unyielding:
Strength. I must become stronger.