"ON YOUR FEET BOY!" Assaulted with a loud voice, a voice of command as you are wrenched to your feet, you're tired. Your breath is coming in long gasps. Your body aching in a way you've never experienced before, but there is something else.

Something deeper, something that you've never quite understood, but now you did. Excitement, as the voice continued to yell at you, you raised a hand. Using an already dirtied hand to dig at the mud that had fallen into your eye and toss it away as your eyes opened.

You could see clearly, before you a battlefield something out of a fantasy book. Magics arced across the sky, hissing with heat and crackling with power as it slaughtered ten men standing before you.

You feel a weight thrust into your hands and you notice you are now holding a sword it feels familiar, not to you mentally, but your body. Your hand tightened around the longsword as you look up across the battlefield. Thrust into a world not your own was your wish, right? You wished for battle, for magic when strength and power meant something.

When people bent the knee, and when you could play your little fantasy game. Now you were there, with no time, no preparation, and in the middle of a battle raging between two armies. The scent of blood and the sight of steel, but despite all that. You can feel your heart pounding, for once in your life. Something is bringing you that excitement, that edge you so wished.

Memories, only hints of them licking against your mind, you are a part of a group of mercenaries. A rather new group built on a group of village friends looking to do something with their lives then care for the land and have more than half of your harvest taken by the so-called 'Lord' of the land, who didn't even protect your land as he was supposed to. Simply had a grand feast with the food you worked so hard to have.

This was a battle between two sides, you didn't know their names. You didn't care, only something for glory, but now you knew the difference. A blow had rocked you off your feet and into a ditch of mud, piss, and blood.

But with that blow, came your memories once more. Something had gone wrong in your wish, a slight course altered, but who would care? You were but a speck in the grand scheme of it all, nothing to bother with.

Rage filled your body, blood pumping through your veins as your eyes began to focus. Clearing up as you watch the man that had pulled you to your feet get blasted apart by a single bolt of lightning.

The mage before you barely hanging on, you took two steps and you were on the winded boy, no older than you. He looked like he just became a proper man at 15, but you didn't hesitate. You raised the hilt of your sword up, striking under the chin to knock his head back before using the blade just below the guard to slit his throat.

Your body didn't have the energy to swing your sword, but as the boy's blood drained from his neck and his eyes clouded. You felt just a little better as if his death brought you relief.

You grabbed his magic bag, something all wizards wore, you knew little about them. The only thing you did know was that once the wizard wearing them died, it became free to grab.

As he began to fall you reached forward, grabbing the jewelry from his neck and hands, and pulled them from him, putting them in your own sack as you began to make your way away from the carnage. As a blender of steel and bodies, you continued to get away.

Whatever luck was allowing you to abandon the battlefield you hoped would last until you at least got further away, and it did.

A horse left on the outskirts of the skirmish, with your tired body you pulled yourself up and mounted it, letting it charge off further from the battlefield. The powerful majestic beast beneath you followed your command as if it was your own horse.

As you rode, you cut the insignia off the horse that showed it belonged to someone. As you did you noticed one of the rungs for your feet was already filled. Looking down you watched as only half a body was being dragged along, the foot caught in the rung.

A sharp kick was all it took before it slid out the rung and you replaced your own foot into it to finally rest. Slumping in the saddle to look like a dead soldier on a runaway horse, you kept your sword tight in your grip, just in case.

Soon the rage of the battle began to fade, and soon you were away from the main fighting. When you felt sure you were out of view of the main force, you began to ride fast and hard. You needed to put as much distance between you and the main force as soon as possible.

You rode, you weren't for sure how long, but by the time you needed to stop, you were by a stream in a pretty wooded area, your body sagged as you slid from the horse.

Your tired body began to peel the half-plate armor from your body, tossing it to the side as the horse grazed in the stream. You fell forward not even removing the lower pieces of your armor as you pushed your hands into the stream. Washing your hands and arm before bringing a large amount of water cupped in your hands to your mouth.

It was like the nectar of the Gods as you drank, not realizing just how thirsty you had been.

After you finish drinking you pull open your sack, one of the many rings you had falling out as you did.

At first you ignored it, going straight for the salted meat. You began to tear into your ration with fervor.

You finished two of your rations before the hunger finally subsided, and your eyes finally fell on the ring.

Your mind too clouded, to unsure, but you put it on. The moment you did your body slumped as fatigue suddenly consumed you, your visioning darkening.

-Knight Richard's POV-

He stared across the battlefield, the fighting had dulled around an hour ago, now it was just the reaping hour. His forces moved across the field, killing anyone still alive, whether it be for mercy, or so word wouldn't spread. To take what wasn't theirs to help feed his men, to help make sure they stay alright

"Knight Richards... Are you alright?" A lighter voice asked with a soft hint of worry.

He released a heavy sigh. "No, Malik... I am not. I hate this war, it is meaningless... But here I am, watching my men fight a war they don't belong in, all become some pompous bitch didn't want to get her nails dirty."

There was a soft chuckled. ''Careful Richards, that's treason you're speaking. Might have to report you to the Baroness."

He turned to look upon his friend, a mage. He's known Malik for years, and with a short bark-like laugh, he shook his head. ''Of course, because you a lowly mage would be able to get into contact with her? I'll remember that next time I need to save you from a Werebeast."

Malik's face turned sour, a look he's grown used to as he once more laughed, this one far less forced.

Malik responded blandly. ''Har Har, one of these days that won't mean anything anymore."

Richard's chuckled softly, shaking his head. ''Sure it won't, but for now? It means amusement."

Malik looked at him, a bit more serious. ''How many of the Mercenaries survived... Should we hire more?"

Richard shook his head. ''Thankfully, only three are reported missing, most likely ripped apart by that Earth Rupture spell, it was my fault. I never expected them to put a second-class mage there."

Malik shook his head. ''Don't Richards, no one could've known, we didn't even expect any mages to be a part of this small group. At least the mage died shortly after, it must've been a newly made second star, or they wouldn't have risked using such a spell without having the proper protection."

Richards chuckled. ''That, or. He was a newly appointed two-star mage and he got too high on his horse, and though he could take out a few dumb simpletons?"

Malik raised a hand, rubbing at his face. ''Don't even know why I ask anymore, how can you so easily make me feel like shit too?"

"Deflecting from my personal trauma has always been a strength of mine Malik."

Malik grinned from that, raising a brow before he spoke. ''That so? No wonder you can't get you any maidens."

Richard's released a huff, reaching for his sword. ''That's it you skinny little fairy sparkler, today's the day I remove your tongue."

Malik roared into laughter before he began to sprint away.