As noble as the act seemed, the motives behind it were practical and calculated. Two reasons drove Cedar to make this decision.
First, heroic acts like this—self-sacrificing, brave maneuvers in the face of danger—were exactly what elevated ordinary soldiers up the ranks.
The witnesses here weren't just bystanders; they were people with influence, individuals whose testimonies could guarantee Cedar a medal or even a promotion if he survived.
With that promotion, he could ensure he'd have command over his own team. If he became a leader, Ivan would be right by his side, and together they'd have control, privacy, and the flexibility to train in ways other squads wouldn't allow.
In this war, Ivan was the only person Cedar could trust, the only one who knew his secrets. The thought of depending on someone else was risky at best and dangerous at worst.
The promotion would mean freedom—freedom to continue growing in strength, to pursue his training under Len, and to climb the ranks together.
And then there was the second, darker reason.
Len had urged Cedar to seek real bloodshed. To unlock the full potential of blood magic, he needed to taste battle in its rawest form.
Spilling real blood—by his own hands and in great volume—was the final step in completing his basic training.
Cedar didn't feel like a hero, but the thrill of testing himself in genuine combat, of fully diving into blood magic, was exhilarating.
Len's promise of protection, his assurance that he'd placed a measure over Cedar to save his life if things got dire, allowed him to move forward without hesitation. If there was ever a chance to prove himself and survive with reward, it was now.
With the commander's approval, Cedar and his squad prepared for a diversionary assault. In the chaos of an open battlefield, the Imperium wouldn't know whether Cedar's small team was defending the refugees or baiting them with precious cargo.
As Cedar and the others split from the main convoy, he cast spells to amplify his aura, drawing attention to their position. The subtle flicker of power from his third circle fed into the magic, creating a presence impossible to ignore.
Within minutes, the Imperium scouts took the bait. The sky filled with sharp-winged figures moving swiftly toward Cedar's position. Imperium mages, armored and deadly, closed in fast.
Cedar could feel the charge in the air—the anticipation before the clash. This wasn't training. He was about to face real, seasoned warriors.
Lance signaled for the group to hold formation. "We only need to buy a few minutes!" he shouted, his voice steady but tense. "Hit hard, stay in position, and don't let them see any weakness!"
Spells crackled in the air as wards flared to life. Fireballs, lightning arcs, and defensive shields turned the darkening sky into a deadly light show.
One enemy mage broke formation, his gaze locking onto Cedar with predatory intent.
The mage's aura was intense—stronger than anyone Cedar had faced before. His heartbeat quickened, but he steadied himself, drawing power from his third circle.
The enemy raised his hand, unleashing a volley of shadowy spears that tore through the air. Cedar raised a barrier, bracing as the attack slammed into his defenses. The impact sent a shiver through his core, but his shield held.
Then, something deeper stirred within him—a darker power.
Len's voice echoed in his mind, urging him to embrace the bloodshed. Cedar could feel Len's presence, watching, waiting for him to dive into the power he'd promised.
Without hesitation, Cedar dropped his barrier and lunged forward. His movements, sharpened by training, were fluid and precise.
Adrenaline surged through him as he unleashed a lightning strike aimed at the enemy mage's core. The spell hit, crackling against the mage's chest and forcing him back. But instead of retreating, Cedar pressed forward, feeling a strange pull—a desire to engage up close.
As he closed the distance, the battlefield blurred around him. His focus narrowed on his target.
With a swift strike, his military blade tore into the enemy. Blood spilled from the wound, and Cedar felt a dark, visceral energy rush through him. The enemy's life force seemed to charge his mana, mingling with his own power in a way he'd never felt before.
"Good," Len's voice murmured in his mind, satisfaction evident. "Feel it. Let it strengthen you."
Each drop of blood that touched Cedar's blade amplified his strength. His mana crackled brighter, sharper. The blade itself became a conduit for his hunger, siphoning the enemy's life force with every cut.
The Red Eye Fever surged within him, but Cedar held steady, bending the bloodlust to his will. For the first time, he used its power without succumbing to its madness.
Just as Cedar steadied himself, a new presence emerged—a far more dangerous one.
An Imperium mage stepped forward, his intricate white officer uniform marking him as someone of rank. The aura around him was suffocating.
Cedar's stomach clenched as the officer began chanting. A black thunderbolt, vicious and alive with energy, crackled in the mage's hands. With a single gesture, the spell broke through a soldier's barrier, frying him in an instant.
The officer's gaze turned to Cedar, his intent murderous.
Crack!
Cedar rolled to the side, narrowly dodging the spell as it slammed into the ground where he'd stood. The raw power of the attack sent a tremor through the earth.
For the first time, Cedar felt true danger on the battlefield. This wasn't a spell he could tank and rely on Len's protection to heal him. One direct hit, and he was dead.
He tightened his grip on his blade, his breath steadying. He had to be careful—one wrong move, and it would be his last.
The officer was cautious. He had recognized Cedar's skill in close combat and knew better than to engage recklessly. As his chanting continued, he swiftly retreated, increasing the distance between them.
Meanwhile, Cedar pressed on relentlessly, dodging each attack with the precision of a seasoned dancer.
The air crackled with danger. One wrong step, one miscalculated move, and the black thunder spell would end him. Yet, Cedar wasn't afraid.
The Red Eye Fever surged through him, granting primal willpower and a berserker's resilience. His physical capabilities were enhanced, allowing him to react with unnatural speed.
Another strike came, dangerously close, but Cedar evaded it by a hair's breadth. In a sudden burst of calculated aggression, he hurled his blade directly at the officer. The move was perfectly timed, hitting the moment just after the enemy completed his spell, leaving no opportunity for another counterattack.
But the officer's reflexes were sharp. He twisted his body, intercepting the blade with his left arm. The weapon sank deep into his flesh, and though he didn't scream, the pain etched across his face was unmistakable.
With a grimace, he yanked the blade free, blood spilling onto the ground. Reaching for a healing potion, he downed it swiftly. The potion closed some of the wound, but his left arm hung useless, rendered inoperable for the moment.
The officer glared at Cedar, rage burning in his eyes, but he refused to stop retreating. He widened the gap further, continuing to maintain a safe distance.
Cedar seized the opportunity. With the officer's attacks now fewer and weaker due to his injury, Cedar advanced with greater speed. His movements were a blur, each step closing the gap between them.
When Cedar was within ten meters, the officer's demeanor shifted. A cruel smirk tugged at the corners of his lips as he abruptly charged forward. This time, there was no chanting—black thunder surged directly from his hand, wild and unrestrained.
But Cedar had anticipated this move. His grip tightened as he made his final gamble. Just before the officer could strike, Cedar tossed his staff aside, revealing a concealed weapon—a small firearm loaded with anti-magic bullets.
The officer's eyes widened in surprise.
Bang!