Croy floated in nothingness.
It was no place and no time. No up, no down - just endless darkness that enveloped him like the veil of an old dream. The air - if there was any at all - was still and heavy, like held breaths that were never released.
For a moment, he thought he was dead. But even though the rebel had wielded violent red mana, Croy had still had his own barrier spell active when the explosion hit him.
No, he shouldn't be dead. At most, unconscious...
"Damn. If I'm unconscious, that means..."
Then he saw them.
His parents stood there, like ghosts from a distant memory, yet the colors of their lives were so vivid that for a fleeting moment he believed everything was as it used to be.
At least, that's what he had thought during their first meeting in the void. Now he knew that they were just figments of his imagination - creations of his memories and his remorse.
Croy shook his head, and sober reality returned. This was a dream - they were gone, long gone.
"Mother. Father. It's been a while," he said nonetheless. For even if they weren't really his parents, a part of him still ached at the sight of them.
"Croy," his mother said in a loving voice, "are you still with the army?"
It was strange. Croy could speak, and he could hear his parents speak. But he himself had no body, no eardrums to receive sounds, no vocal cords to produce words.
His parents were here but also not. As if they were made of ever-changing mist, and every time he tried to look at them more closely, he saw right through them.
A small part of him knew what that meant. He hadn't always met them so blurred in his dreams. At the beginning, they were lively and... almost tangible.
"The rebels haven't surrendered yet. They're a threat," he replied, but the words felt wrong.
His mother didn't answer. Instead, he heard his father sigh. But his father said nothing.
'No, it's not that he doesn't want to say anything,' Croy realized with a stabbing pain in his chest, even though he didn't have a body at this moment.
'He wants to tell me so much, but... but I've forgotten his voice. He can't speak. The sound and tone of his voice. Was it warm? Stern? Concerned?'
He didn't know anymore. He wished he would never forget it. He felt like a heap of shame. He had forgotten the people who died for him. He had forgotten his parents in the bloodbath of the war.
"Father, I..."
But before he could say anything, the void began to change. The contours of his parents started to fade; the feeling of emptiness gave way to a bright light that began to pull him back - back to life.
Croy blinked, and a metallic smell filled the air. Above him, sterile lights hummed; softly pulsating screens and the gleaming white walls of a field hospital slowly came into view.
Sounds of humming machines and muffled voices blended into a background noise that told him he was still alive - and that he was in the midst of war.
But he shouldn't be with the rest of the army; he should be with Spider and the others in the destroyed city. Croy shot up; something tugged at his body, and the IV stand behind him toppled over.
A medic spun around wildly, eyes wide.
"Lie back down immediately, soldier!" she snapped at him. Croy blinked, confused. He shouldn't be here, should he?
But the medic was already pushing him back onto the pillow.
"My goodness, you almost ripped out all your tubes. Listen, no movements until the doctor has seen you, understood?" Her voice was extremely stern for such a small woman, but Croy had quickly learned in the military that gender played no role when it came to authority and power.
Having little choice, Croy let the medic reattach the IV. Meanwhile, he looked around the hospital.
The walls of the mobile facility shimmered in cold, metallic white, and light filtered like mist onto the beds and softly humming equipment. Above each bed floated a holographic monitor displaying vital statistics, X-rays, and digital patient records.
The monitors pulsed in various colors, and with each glow, they updated data with a soft hum. Croy could see tiny drones buzzing from bed to bed, checking data and making small adjustments to IVs and bandages. They hovered like metallic mosquitoes.
Beside some beds stood stationary, robot-like devices that glowed softly with bluish light and occasionally gave calm-voiced instructions - the automated nurses he'd heard about.
They registered every change in the wounded's condition and reacted immediately, adjusting their voices to soothing frequencies to keep patients calm in their half-sleep.
Thankfully, they hadn't placed one of those things next to him. They were creepy.
The hospital was emptier than Croy had expected, which meant the front was probably on the move. But the soldiers he saw wore insignia that looked familiar - the silver emblem with the jagged star of Major Maddox's company. Their uniforms were torn, crusted with dirt, and partially burned.
A soldier in the corner had his arm in a metal brace that healed his bones by sending tiny electric shocks through the skin to accelerate the healing process.
Croy observed another wounded man whose chest was covered with a transparent, shimmering film that seemed like a living bandage. It was a type of regenerative foil, specially developed to close wounds while restoring cellular structure, a technique only recently introduced by the military.
But if he was here now, it could only mean one of two things. Either Spider had brought him back and placed him under Maddox's care, or the army's advance had progressed much faster than expected.
In any case, he wasn't in the ruins of the city at the moment. Where were Spider and the others, anyway?
The medic next to him continued adjusting the IV and looked at him appraisingly.
"So you're part of Spider's squad?" she asked casually, but Croy didn't miss the expression in her gaze. Her eyes wandered from his disheveled, close-cropped hair to the scars on his upper body.
Her look was full of unspoken pity - for someone who wasn't older than a child and far too young for the front lines.
Croy noticed her gaze, clenched his teeth, turned his head away, and ignored her. He had wanted to ask where Spider was, but apparently she had already met him.
'Damn you, Spider, leaving me here in the infirmary,' he thought.
At that moment, a doctor approached. He held a portable holographic screen, its glowing diagnostic data casting a cool light on his face as he reviewed Croy's condition.
After a moment, he looked up.
"You had an encounter with a highly risky spell, young man." The doctor sighed and regarded him with a hint of respect.
"The rebel cast a Core Collapse. Not a particularly useful spell. At least under normal circumstances. It requires all of the user's mana, which collapses into a bomb that shreds everything in the vicinity, including the caster. Usually, a well-placed barrier spell and some distance are enough to fend off the explosion."
Croy nodded slightly. He knew all that. His gaze remained fixed on the doctor, but deep inside, memories of the glowing, pulsating heat and the shockwave that had virtually torn him apart pressed in.
The doctor continued, his voice taking on a more serious tone.
"However, the rebel had red mana - and one that operated at a very low frequency. Probably one of the most destructive wavelengths of mana. The explosion was roughly equivalent to a direct hit from a spell tank... from half a meter away."
Beside him, the medic whistled softly through her teeth, and the doctor nodded in agreement.
"That you survived is solely thanks to your skill with the barrier. Still, you broke several ribs, and we managed to treat the burns just in time."
He glanced briefly at his notes, then looked up again.
"Your two fingers... they were gone, but we were able to reattach them. However, your ribs will need some more time to heal completely."
Croy felt as if the ground beneath him was swaying. No, he was lying down - so was it the bed that was swaying? The words echoed within him, but nothing shook him more than the last thing the doctor had said.
"A miracle, really, that you were only unconscious for a week."
"A week?!" Croy exclaimed, half sitting up and immediately feeling a sharp pain in his side that forced him back onto the pillows.
The doctor raised a warning hand. "Easy, soldier. The quieter you stay, the sooner you'll be ready for action again. And don't worry; your unit knows you're still alive. They should be back any moment to see you."
The doctor went on to explain that Spider and his team had successfully completed the mission despite the incident. They'd been very lucky, as the main rebel force had moved out at that exact moment, allowing Spider's squad to disable the supply point undisturbed.
The mission's success enabled the Imperial Army to retake the city within a few days. Since then, Croy had been in the field hospital.
Meanwhile, Major Maddox had begun preparations for the final attack on the last rebel city - the goal being to finally crush the rebellion.
Maddox had no intention of waiting for another general to steal his glory. His determination was palpable, and even the Emperor - long live the Emperor - was losing patience and wanted the matter settled.
Spider and the rest of the squad had rejoined the company and, during Croy's recovery, carried out only smaller missions, waiting for the final confrontation.
Croy felt bad on one hand because he'd been out of action and felt useless in the last mission, but on the other hand, he felt warmed. His comrades had still successfully completed the task and waited for his return.
Then he could finally march into the heart of the rebels with the others - and put an end to them.
"Holy shit, you're grinning, Ember! Guys, look, Ember is grinning!"
"That's... kind of creepy. Who did you kill?"
The excited chatter came from Bunny and Sandman, who sneaked up to the bed.
Bunny had her long brown hair tied into two braids and pointed her finger at him. A cheeky smile played on her sweet, childlike face. She was the only one in the squad shorter than Croy, but her eyes sparkled with determination and an energy that often surprised him.
Next to her stood Sandman with a mock-frightened expression. The man with tousled silver hair and narrow shoulders exuded a warmth that gave everyone a sense of security - even if he acted as cold-bloodedly as the rest of the squad on the battlefield.
Behind them, Croy recognized the tall figure of Spider, and further back, he saw the long, violet-black hair of Cookoff, who was just talking to a doctor.
Croy realized he was actually smiling and touched the corners of his mouth. It was real. He was grinning.
"Hello, everyone," he greeted his squad.
Bunny jumped forward and threw herself into his arms with enthusiasm.
"Ember, you little baby! I thought you'd never wake up again!"
Immediately, he felt a sharp pain in his ribs, but he couldn't resist. Bunny was much stronger than she looked, which reminded him once again that none of them were what they appeared to be. Behind the faces lurked the hardness of war, the blood they all had on their hands.
"Let him go, Bunny," said Spider with a slight smirk, while Croy groaned in pain. "You're just breaking more of him."
Bunny released him and gave him a broad grin.
"You've grown quite a bit since we pulled you out of the rubble," Sandman remarked suddenly, eyeing Croy's bare chest. "Even got a few hairs on your chest."
"True!" Bunny giggled and rubbed her hand over his chest before he angrily pushed her hand away.
At that moment, Cookoff joined the rest of the squad. She whispered a few words to Spider before turning to Croy, a slight, warm smile on her lips.
"How are you feeling?" she asked.
Croy sighed and nodded. "At the moment, I can hardly move, but I think I'll be ready for action again in a few days. When does Major Maddox plan to advance?"
"In no more than two days," Cookoff replied, but her eyebrows lowered a bit. "You don't really want to come along, do you? The doctor said you can barely concentrate mana."
Croy did feel an invisible barrier within him that made casting body spells difficult. But he shook his head.
"Body spells aren't my specialty anyway. We can go, even if we start a day later. We'll catch up to them effortlessly and then..."
"No." Spider's voice cut him off coldly.
"No?" Croy asked, as an uneasy feeling rose within him. Spider shook his head again, and a dark premonition spread within Croy like a shadow.
"No, Ember. You won't be coming along. In your condition, you're in no way fit for combat. The rebels have nowhere left to retreat, and the fighting in the city will be fierce. They'll hold out to the last man."
Croy felt the foreboding settle deep in his bones.
"Then what am I supposed to do?" he asked irritably. "At least let me join the crew of a spell tank. I can still release mana—"
But Spider interrupted him again. "We have something else in mind for you, Ember. Take it as a belated birthday present."
Croy looked at his comrades. Bunny had a broad grin on her face and rested her head on his stomach, while Sandman gave him a warm smile. Spider stood there, his eyes filled with something Croy recognized as pride.
Their reactions made a queasy feeling rise in him. It was true, paralyzing fear, worse than anything he could ever feel on the battlefield. They were his friends, but... sometimes friends were worse than the greatest enemies.
"What are you barbarians planning?" he asked suspiciously.
Cookoff reached into the pocket of her uniform and handed him a letter without a word. Croy's eyes widened in horror when he saw the seal.
"D-Demons... You're the devil!" he stammered as he realized what he held in his hand.
On the letter was the seal of the Imperial Magic Academy.
They wanted to send him to school!