As he stepped out of Veldrin's office, the reality of what lay ahead crystallised in his mind. The calm waters he had seen earlier would soon become a battlefield of their own, the first of many tests in his journey as a Gifted. The path before him was fraught with danger, but Layzal was prepared. He had no illusions about the trials that awaited him on Maneo, but he welcomed them. They were, after all, the true measure of his potential.
The chill of the evening air greeted Layzal as he stepped out of the command building, the stark contrast to the warmth inside serving as a reminder of the cold, unforgiving landscape that awaited him on Maneo. Alaric's Point, though fortified and bustling with military activity, felt like a place on the edge of the world. Beyond its walls lay the vast ocean, and beyond that, the unknown challenges of the central continent.
As Layzal made his way through the town, the streets were filled with soldiers and supplies being loaded onto ships. The atmosphere was tense but efficient, everyone aware of the importance of their mission. Layzal's footsteps were steady as he navigated the cobblestone paths, his mind already focused on the upcoming voyage and what awaited him on the other side.
He passed by groups of recruits, some sharing nervous laughter, others sitting in silence as they sharpened their weapons or checked their gear. A few eyes followed him as he walked, recognition flickering in their gazes. The temper and unique features he wore marked him as someone different—Gifted, but still an unknown quantity to them. He could sense the mixture of curiosity, envy, and perhaps a bit of fear in their stares.
He paused for a moment at the edge of the docks, looking out at the dark waters of the Straits of Drakea. The sea was calm for now, but the stories he had heard about this crossing were anything but. Sea beasts that could capsize a ship with a single blow, storms that appeared out of nowhere, and enemy vessels lurking just beyond the horizon. The journey to Maneo was a test in itself, a precursor to the battles that would follow.
As Layzal stood there, a soldier approached him—a tall man with a scar running down the side of his face, his expression one of hardened experience. "Initiate Regula?" he asked, his voice rough.
"Yes," Layzal replied, turning to face him.
"Soldier Harker. I'm to escort you to your ship," the soldier said, his tone respectful but brisk. "The commander wanted you to have a room separate from the others, given your rank."
Layzal nodded and followed Harker through the maze of crates and equipment being loaded onto the ships. The sergeant led him to one of the larger vessels, a sturdy-looking ship with reinforced hulls and sails that could withstand the harshest winds. The crew was already hard at work, securing the last of the cargo and preparing for departure.
As they boarded the ship, Harker gestured to a door near the back. "Your quarters are there. You'll find your new uniform inside, as the commander mentioned. We set sail at dawn, so get some rest while you can."
Layzal inclined his head in thanks and made his way to the cabin. The room was small but well-appointed, with a single bunk, a desk, and a chest for personal belongings. True to Veldrin's word, a new uniform was laid out on the bed, its dark fabric bearing the insignia of his rank. He removed his current clothing and carefully donned the uniform, the material surprisingly comfortable despite its heavy look. The fit was perfect, tailored to his form, and when he looked at himself in the small mirror, he saw not just a soldier, but someone marked for something greater.
The uniform consisted of Black heavy trousers, and tall black boots to help against the terrain. The top half consisted of a white shirt as the base as a black military suit jacket overlaid it. The jacket was heavy and of great quality, it had two pockets, white buttons and a chain that connected the breast pocket from the top button.
The jacket was adorned with two shoulder pads that had a singular crown etched on to them, alongside a medal encrusted with a crown firmly placed on the chest. Mirroring the placement, on the jacket there was yet another small crown. Finally, there seemed to be a long cloak that reached his feet and had fur lined along the shoulders.
The weight of the uniform was a reminder of the expectations placed upon him, the burden of his Gifted status. But it was also a symbol of the potential he had, the power that was his to wield if he could survive what was to come.
There was a small note left on the desk, unfurling it read,"As you are new, you wouldn't know the symbols distinguishing ranks. Just know that normal mana wielders use stars as their symbols and Gifted use crowns. I believe you could infer any higher rank." Signed Commander Veldrin.
Layzal secured his belongings and sat on the bunk, the gentle sway of the ship already noticeable as it rocked in the harbour. He closed his eyes, letting the rhythm of the sea lull him into a state of calm. Tomorrow, the real journey will begin. The central continent of Maneo awaited, with all its dangers and opportunities. But Layzal felt no fear, only a cold determination to succeed.
As the ship prepared to depart, Layzal's thoughts drifted back to the words of Commander Veldrin: This is a one-way trip for many. But for Layzal, it was just the beginning. He would carve his path through Maneo, through the ranks of the military, and through the ranks of the Gifted. He would prove himself worthy of the power he now wielded, not just to others, but to himself.
And with that final thought, Layzal allowed himself to rest, the steady creaking of the ship and the distant crash of waves outside his window the only sounds in the quiet of the night.
The ship swayed gently under the night sky, the rhythmic motion offering a sense of calm amidst the tension that permeated the atmosphere. Layzal lay on the bunk, his eyes closed but his mind active, reflecting on the rapid changes his life had undergone in such a short time. The coldness of the uniform against his skin was a constant reminder of the path he had chosen—or perhaps the path that had been chosen for him.
He had heard stories about the central continent of Maneo, tales of endless battles, of warriors who never returned, and of those who did but were never the same. Maneo was a crucible, a place where only the strongest survived and where even the Gifted could meet their end if they were not careful. But Layzal was not deterred. Instead, the thought of facing such challenges only fueled his resolve.
The insignia of the crown on his uniform was more than just a symbol of his rank. It was a mark of expectation, a sign that he was not like the others. The stars of the regular soldiers represented their strength in numbers, their collective power as they fought together. But the crown was different—it marked those who stood apart, those who were expected to lead, to innovate, and to achieve greatness on their own.
As the ship began to move, its sails catching the night wind, Layzal opened his eyes and sat up, staring at the small porthole that allowed him a view of the starlit sea. The dark waters stretched out endlessly, the horizon barely visible against the black sky. Somewhere out there, Maneo awaited.
The note from Commander Veldrin still rested on the desk, its message clear in Layzal's mind. He was to prove himself not just in battle, but in his ability to survive, to adapt, and to command. The symbols of the crowns were only the beginning—his true test lay ahead, in the icy forests and bloodstained fields of the eastern front.
He stood up and walked over to the desk, picking up the note and folding it carefully before placing it inside his jacket. It was a small gesture, but it felt significant. A reminder of where he was going and what was expected of him.
Layzal returned to the bunk and lay down again, letting the sounds of the ship's movement and the distant crash of waves fill his senses. The gentle rocking of the ship was soothing, and for the first time in days, he felt the tension begin to ease from his body. The weight of his responsibilities, the unknowns of the future, and the challenges that awaited him on Maneo—they all faded into the background as sleep finally claimed him.
The ship sailed on through the night, carrying Layzal and the other soldiers towards the central continent. The calm before the storm. And as Layzal slept, the first light of dawn began to creep over the horizon, casting a pale glow on the waters of the Straits of Drakea.
In two days, he would set foot on Maneo, and his journey as a Gifted would truly begin.