The days blended together as we settled into a routine of training, patrolling, and preparing for the next inevitable battle. The camaraderie within our squad grew stronger, and I found myself forging bonds with my fellow soldiers, both the seasoned veterans and the new recruits like myself.
Garret, the older soldier who had saved me during my first battle, became a mentor of sorts. He was a former blacksmith with hands rough from years of labor.
His experience and wisdom were invaluable, and I often sought his guidance. Despite his gruff exterior, he had a kind heart and a deep sense of loyalty to his comrades.
Mateo, the tall and serious former farmer, shared stories of his family back home. He spoke of his wife and two young children, who depended on his income to survive.
The war had torn him away from them, but his determination to return to them kept him going. His eyes would soften when he talked about them, a stark contrast to his usual stern demeanor.
"Mateo," I asked one night, "what keeps you going through all this?"
He smiled faintly, his gaze distant. "My family, Lucavion. Every night, I think about them. It's the thought of holding them again that keeps me pushing forward."
Felix, the former thief from the city, was a constant source of amusement and surprise. His quick wit and street smarts were invaluable in navigating the complexities of camp life.
Despite his mischievous grin and carefree attitude, he had a sharp mind and a deep-seated resentment for the nobles who had condemned him to this life. Over time, I learned that his family had been wrongfully evicted from their home by a corrupt noble, which fueled his disdain for the aristocracy.
"Do you ever miss the city?"
When I asked this, Felix laughed, shaking his head. "Miss it? Sometimes. But mostly, I miss the thrill of outwitting the guards. Out here, though, the stakes are higher. And trust me, nothing beats seeing a noble get what's coming to them."
Among the new recruits was Clara, a young woman who had grown up in a small village. She had joined the army to escape an arranged marriage to an abusive man.
Clara was fierce and determined, and her skills with a spear improved rapidly under Vance's rigorous training. Her resolve to carve out a new life for herself was inspiring, and we quickly became friends.
She was 20 years old, and I learned it a slightly hard way. When we were talking one day, I just decided to randomly ask this.
"By the way, Clara. How old are you?"
SMACK!
And I was met with a smack on my head. At first, I did not understand why, but later on, I learned the reason.
"Never ask a lady's age directly to her face. Never. That is the number one rule of interacting with a lady."
Apparently, there was such a rule.
"I'm sorry, Clara. I didn't know," I said, rubbing my head.
She laughed, shaking her head. "It's alright, Lucavion. I know you are just a kid. This is just a lesson for you. But for your information, I'm twenty."
Then, there was Elias, a quiet and introspective young man who had been a scholar before the war. He was well-read and had a deep knowledge of history and strategy, which made him a valuable asset to the squad.
Elias had joined the army out of a sense of duty, believing that his intellect could help turn the tide of the war. Despite his reserved nature, he had a sharp wit and a dry sense of humor that endeared him to the rest of us.
As we spent more time together, our squad became a tight-knit family. We shared our fears, our hopes, and our dreams, finding solace in each other's company amidst the chaos of war. The bonds we formed were forged in the crucible of battle, each skirmish bringing us closer together.
The nights were often filled with stories and laughter around the campfire. Garret would regale us with tales of his blacksmithing days, his deep voice carrying a sense of nostalgia. Mateo would share anecdotes about his children, his eyes lighting up as he spoke of their mischief and innocence. Felix's stories were always laced with humor and clever twists, keeping us entertained and helping to lift our spirits.
Being with them like that, I always thought I at least found peace here.
At least here, I felt like I belonged to this place.
*******
Our days in the military continued with a sense of routine and camaraderie. The brutal training sessions, relentless battles, and brief moments of respite around the campfire created bonds that felt almost familial.
Amidst the chaos of war, our squad became a sanctuary of sorts, a place where we could find solace in each other's company.
One evening, after a particularly grueling battle, Sergeant Vance gathered us around the campfire. His expression was stern, but there was a glimmer of pride in his eyes. "Listen up, everyone," he began, his voice commanding our attention. "Due to your recent achievements and dedication, our squad has been granted a special reward."
We exchanged curious glances, wondering what this reward could be. Vance continued, "We've been given access to a mana accumulation art. This will allow you to gather mana in your cores, strengthen yourselves, and potentially advance to the next stage of awakening."
The air was thick with anticipation as Vance handed out scrolls to each of us. The title of the art was [Iron Will Spear Art]. It was a common-grade art designed to utilize attributeless mana, specifically tailored for those who wielded spears.
Both from the novel and from my own knowledge, I remembered the related ranks for the [Arts].
Common
Rare
Unique
Epic
Legendary
Mythic
These were the ranks for the [Arts] that one would use to strengthen their mana core.
'Unique rank, huh?'
The art that I was practicing in my family.
[Serpent Flame Art]
For instance, this art was a unique rank art and the reason why our family was still a Viscounty. Most of the noble families had such arts as legacies, and each of them had a stronger art as their rank in the nobility was correspondent to that.
In essence, the relation was as such.
Rare – Barons
Unique – Viscount
Epic – Dukedom Families / Counties
Legendary – Royal Families, Country leaders, Special Practitioners
Mythic – Literal myths, Heroes of the Past, Gods?
For instance, the protagonist of the novel, Elara, is a practitioner of rank art since she is from a duke family. However, when she was banished from her family, that art would be taken from her, and her core would also have been abolished.
Still seeing the art that was given to us, I somehow felt a little hope.
'Maybe if I try a different art, I can grow my mana core and cultivate?'
Elias, the scholar among us, was the first to examine the scroll in detail. "This art focuses on gathering mana in the core and creating a sphere barrier around it," he explained. "Once the sphere is completed, one would increase their rank and become a Stage 1 Awakened."
Mateo looked at his scroll with a mix of excitement and determination. "This could give us the edge we need," he said, his voice filled with hope.
Felix, always the skeptic, raised an eyebrow. "Sounds too good to be true. What's the catch?"
Vance smirked. "The catch is that it requires discipline and focus. It's not something you can master overnight. It will take time and effort, but the rewards are worth it."
Garret nodded thoughtfully. "I've heard of mana arts before, but I've never had the chance to learn one. This could be a game-changer for us."
Vance continued, his expression serious. "If you manage to become a Stage 1 Awakened, you will be moved to a different platoon, a higher-ranking one. The responsibilities and expectations will be greater, but so will the opportunities. And if any of you manage to reach Stage 2, you'll become a sergeant like me, with your own squad to lead."
The weight of his words settled over us. The possibility of advancement, of rising above our current status, was a powerful motivator. The thought of becoming a sergeant, of leading others and making a real difference, was a dream that seemed almost within reach.
Clara spoke up, her voice steady and determined. "We'll do whatever it takes, Sergeant. We've come this far, and we won't stop now."
Her words echoed the sentiments of the entire squad. We were tired, battered, and scarred, but we were also united in our determination to survive and succeed.
For the next few weeks, the entire squad dedicated themselves to mastering the [Iron Will Spear Art]. Each of us practiced diligently, pushing ourselves to our limits; of course, that was only when we were able to, as our days of fighting continued.
We had lost four of our members, though since they were not that close to me, I did not care too much. They were also from the same camp as me; thus, they had a prejudice against me.
Yet, in terms of Mana Gathering and my core….
I was not making any progress at all, as no matter how much I had tried gathering mana around my core and starting to create a sphere, it would always dissemble, never letting me make any progress.
'I guess I really have no talent in this.'
I could only accept the reality, though I never gave up.
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