The First March
The gates of Viremont opened before dawn.
Iron hinges groaned as the city released its newest burden, rows of men wrapped in dull armor and heavier silence. Torches burned low, their light swallowed by mist that clung to the road ahead. No crowds gathered to watch them leave. No music followed their steps.
Marching soldiers were common.
Remembered soldiers were rare.
Arden Kael walked near the middle of the column, his pack cutting into his shoulders, his iron marker cold against his chest. Each step pulled him farther from the registry desk, farther from the city that had measured him and found him lacking.
The rhythm settled quickly.
Boots.
Breath.
Mud.
Stone roads gave way to packed earth. The air smelled different here, less smoke, more wet grass and iron. Arden focused on keeping pace, counting steps when his legs began to shake.
Around him, quiet conversations formed and dissolved.
Some men spoke of home. Others spoke of rank they hoped to earn. A few stayed silent, eyes forward, as if refusing to imagine anything beyond the next mile.
By midday, sweat soaked through armor padding. The column stretched thin.
A man to Arden's left stumbled and nearly fell. Another caught him by the arm.
"You alright?"
"Yeah. Just tired."
"Tired already?" someone laughed softly. "Wait until the first charge."
Arden did not join in. He watched officers ride along the line, their eyes sharp, counting bodies the way clerks counted numbers.
Those who slowed were noted.
Those who fell behind were removed.
The march did not stop for them.
They reached the forward camp at sunset.
Canvas tents rose in uneven rows across a shallow valley. Fires burned in iron pits. Supply wagons stood guarded at the edges. Beyond the camp, the land sloped gently upward toward distant hills where banners flickered faintly against the sky.
Rhevan Plains.
The place where thousands had died without changing the border even a finger width.
Arden was assigned a shared tent with four others. Armor off. Packs down. Rations distributed.
Hard bread. Thin stew.
No one complained.
After eating, Arden stepped away from the noise and sat near the edge of camp. He watched sparks rise from the fires and vanish into the dark.
This was the closest he had ever been to the war that shaped everything.
And then something shifted.
At first, he thought it was exhaustion.
The world felt briefly distant, as if he were looking at it through water. His heartbeat slowed. The noise of camp dulled.
Then words appeared.
Not in front of his eyes, but inside his awareness. Clear. Precise. Unmistakable.
Civil Contribution Framework detected
Subject identified
Verification in progress
Arden froze.
He stood slowly, scanning the camp. No one reacted. Men laughed. A soldier cursed as he sharpened a blade.
The words remained.
Verification complete
User Arden Kael confirmed
His breath caught.
This was not magic as he understood it. There was no chant, no heat, no light. Just information asserting itself directly into his mind.
Another message followed.
System Initialization Successful
Designation
Aurelion Legacy System
Primary Function
Independent recording of personal contribution
Secondary Function
Preservation of legacy beyond public registry limitations
Arden pressed a hand against his chest. His heart was racing now.
A system.
He had heard rumors before. Stories whispered in taverns about generals who always seemed to know when to retreat, or merchants who never lost influence even after ruin. Such talk was usually dismissed as myth.
But this was real.
A new layer unfolded gently, like a ledger opening to its first page.
Name
Arden Kael
Public Rank
Civilian Rank Zero
System Rank
Unregistered
Recorded Contribution
None
Family Status
Unfounded
Legacy Points
Zero
Legacy points.
The words felt heavy, as if they carried meaning beyond their simplicity.
Contribution that could not be erased.
Recorded even if the nation chose to forget.
A memory surfaced unbidden. His mother's tired smile. Her belief that effort mattered even when no one watched.
The system updated again.
First Condition Active
Requirement
Survive one military engagement
Minimum Contribution Threshold required
Failure Condition
Death
No warning. No reassurance.
Just rules.
Arden lowered himself back onto the ground, steadying his breathing. Fear rose in him, sharp and undeniable. This was not a blessing. It was not protection.
It was accountability.
If he lived, everything he did would be counted.
If he died, the system would end with him.
Slowly, Arden clenched his fists.
For the first time since leaving the registry, he felt something solid beneath his feet. Not safety. Not comfort.
Certainty.
The nation would count what it saw.
The system would count everything else.
He looked toward the hills where enemy banners moved faintly in the dark.
Tomorrow, the march would continue.
Soon, blood would follow.
And when it did, Arden Kael would not vanish quietly.