“What?!”

  Major Adamson’s shout echoed through the tent, his eyes open wide as he stared at Raen.

  “Kid, are you insane by any chance?” Merrick asked from the side, watching Raen with the same dumbfounded expression that Adamson wore.

  “A squad leader is still just a squad leader, what else could –“

  “Really?!”

  Kaelen cut them off, nearly jumping in place as he stared at Raen. A smile, one much wider than before, was plastered across his face. “You think so too?!”

  “Commander?!” The officers in the tent all roared in unison, this time even scared by Kaelen, whom they’d never seen so enthusiastic in the past.

  Tarris’ jaw dropped, then he started grinning. Anderson’s eyes widened, then he nodded slowly, understanding something.

  “I really wasn’t wrong, you’re just my kind of guy, Raen!” Kaelen said, laughing loudly.

  “We gather as many soldiers as we can and march straight to them right away, catching them off guard!”

  “But, sir,” Major Adamson interjected, his face pale, “we have no idea how strong the enemy is. The best course of action, in my humble opinion, is to tighten our defenses and not allow them to launch a surprise attack!”

  “If we do that, Major, then we will only be able to make the enemy realize their plan has failed and retreat,” Kaelen said, his eyes narrowing. “The only ones who would have suffered casualties would have been us, and the deaths of our men – of our comrades – would have been for nothing!”

  His voice then rose, stabbing deep into the hearts of his men.

  “We are the Empire! The leader of this continent!”

  “Instead of acting like a turtle going back in its shell at the first sight of danger, we should be lions – pouncing on the hyena that dared bare its fangs at us!”

  The tent seemed to shake from Kaelen’s voice, the blood of the men inside it boiling upon hearing his words. The thoughts of defending were no longer in their minds.

  Only one thought remained.

  Attack.

  “Gather all the soldiers you can muster. We leave in 20 minutes.” Kaelen said, the officers all saluting at once, nobody complaining any longer.

  ‘So this was the Ashen Prince before earning his title, before being injured.’

  Raen stared at Kaelen with eyes opened wide, his blood boiling in excitement.

  ‘This man, just how far would he have gone in my past life had he not been injured? Had his mind not been skewed after the massacre, his ambition seemingly gone?’

  The men all started moving, leaving the tent, fulfilling the order.

  “Raen, Anderson, Tarris, a word,” Kaelen spoke, prompting the two men to stop dead in their tracks, waiting for the others to leave.

  The tent fell silent, some of the officers giving curious glances at Raen, wondering what Kaelen wanted to speak to him about before leaving.

  “You have been in the army for a year now, correct, Raen?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “From the reports, you were a sharp lad from the start. But nothing out of the ordinary.”

  Kaelen walked closer to him.

  “It seems like you were never able to truly shine. Until this moment.”

  “As I said, sir, I was lucky,” Raen said, eyes locked on Kaelen, unflinching.

  “You were injured during a mission about a week ago. The initial reports stated heavy injuries; your head was left in bad shape. And then … you were fine?”

  “The doctor who did the initial checkup most likely made a mistake. I was hit on the head, and I do still suffer from it – my coordination is still off, but … it also made my brain think differently.”

  “Really? Is that how you were able to think of all of this?” Kaelen asked, walking even closer to Raen.

  “I think you are hiding something, Raen.”

  His voice was quiet, not accusatory-simply stating a fact.

  “Sir, I-“

  “I don’t care what it is.” Kaelen cut him off. “Every man has secrets. Ghosts that he does not wish to uncover. All I care about is that those secrets are beneficial to us, that they help us in the war.”

  He then met Raen’s eyes.

  “Will they help us, Raen?”

  “I will always do my utmost to help the army, sir!”

  “Good.”

  Kaelen smiled.

  “Starting from today, you are no longer with your company. You are under my direct command.”

  “Sir?”

  “You will still have your team, which will not change. I’ve heard how they are quite the ‘quirky’ bunch that won’t listen to anyone but you.”

  He glanced at Anderson, who nodded his head in agreement. Raen had started as a regular squad member at first, only after 3 leaders had left them, unable to cope with the members, did he get promoted.

  The problems his squad created lessened considerably after that.

  “You will participate in skirmishes, but you now directly report to me. Nobody else.”

  Kaelen looked at Raen like a kid who had something new and interesting to play with.

  “Go, gather your squad, we shall attack soon,” Kaelen said, turning to Anderson and Tarris.

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  “And Raen? Try not to die. I’ve just found you – I’d hate to immediately lose you.”

  Raen nodded, saluted, and left the tent, his mind racing.

  “Already poaching one of my men?” Anderson asked Kaelen in a casual manner, not even caring for his rank.

  “I was going to try poach him as well, tch,” Tarris said from the side, receiving a glare from Anderson.

  “Anderson, we’ve known each other since the academy. You know I can’t help myself when I find someone so interesting.” Kaelen said, a smile still plastered on his face.

  “What do you both think of the kid? You’ve both been keeping tabs on him for a while now.”

  “Highly intellectual,” Tarris said right away. “With a good strategic mind. One that has bloomed after that injury of his.”

  “He also stopped being as indecisive as before,” Anderson added. “He is certain in his decisions. To be honest, it’s almost frightening – just how much more efficient he has become.”

  “I have a feeling he is hiding something. His squad as well.” Kaelen said with a sigh.

  “His injuries were caused by the usage of inner strength,” Tarris said, prompting both Anderson and Kaelen to stare at him.

  “He can use inner strength?”

  Anderson was shocked, his eyes widening in disbelief.

  “Was it intentional use?” Kaelen quickly asked, clenching his hand into a fist.

  “No, it wasn’t.” Tarris shook his head. “It was an accident. He did it whilst attempting to kill the chanting cultist.”

  He stared at Kaelen. "His belief that they explode after chanting is definitely true. His desire to stop him was powerful enough to make him use inner strength.”

  Kaelen exhaled sharply.

  “His team members can also use inner strength, correct?”

  Both Anderson and Tarris nodded at his words.

  “All except two, Adam and Jason,” Tarris added.

  “A member of the Veil. A barbarian from the second continent. A curved sword wielder with a unique fighting style. A mysterious man whose strength allowed him to fight off a hundred men – something only those close to a Knight are able to do. None of it adds up.”

  He paused, running his fingers through his hair.

  “I can’t wait to see what happens next with them.” A wide smile bloomed on his face, eagerness that made both Anderson and Tarris sigh and shake their heads.

  “Teacher,” Kaelen said, turning to Tarris. “I believe that squad in its entirety – but especially Raen – has a high chance of becoming a valuable asset in the future.”

  Tarris nodded. “Yes. As long as their loyalty aligns with the Empire.”

  “Don’t worry. If they are not, then they are a liability. One that I will not allow to exist.” Kaelen said, a dangerous glint passing through his eyes.

  ***

  They were too late.

  By the time the battalion moved out of the camp – around 900 men strong – the enemy troops had already started moving, retreating.

  They were made. The fifty-fifty odds are not in their favor this time. The explosions and the previous slaughter of the hidden troops had given the enemy enough reason to withdraw and not risk anything.

  Kaelen stood at the front of the battalion, spear in hand, eyes blazing in fury.

  For a moment, Raen thought his hand might even snap the spear in half. That was how tightly he was clenching it.

  He resembled himself from Raen’s past time in that moment, but he was not as reckless and crazed. The Ashen Prince would have attacked – even risking his battalion in order to inflict casualties on the enemy.

  But Kaelen Vale did not.

  Once again, Raen was reminded that the man leading them was not the one he had almost idolized in his past life. In his youth, while he was still serving under the Empire.

  He’d mimicked him at times. Many of Raen’s own strategies later on were taken straight out of Kaelen’s own book. Casualties did not matter. Victory was the only goal, no matter the cost.

  He learned that lesson later. Paid for it in blood.

  Kaelen himself suffered the ultimate cost in his past life. Killed in battle, his head mounted on a spike that the enemy marched with, decimating the morale of imperial troops.

  As Raen stood at the top of a hill, staring at the enemy troops who were withdrawing in an organized manner in the distance, he realized that he had already changed the future irreversibly.

  “Tch, had that man not been with them, I would’ve charged in right away.” Kaelen spat on the ground before turning.

  “We go back to camp!”

  “That man, sir?” Raen asked Kaelen, still staring at the enemy soldiers, trying to see who he meant.

  “Yeah, that blonde bastard of theirs. If we fought, I can’t say who would win. It’s too damn risky right now.”

  Raen caught his own breath.

  He saw him. For a mere instant, right as the last line of the enemy soldiers was moving out of his sight.

  On top of a white steed. Medium-length blonde hair, tall build, sword in hand.

  He was staring right back at Raen – at the entire army – without showing the slightest idea of fear.

  “Lucien,” Raen said, the name rolling off his tongue.

  “Oh, you recognized him, too?” Kaelen asked, glancing back at him.

  “It is only right to know the name of the enemy general,” Raen answered, glancing at him.

  “He has personally come here to end our battalion,” Kaelen said, turning to stare at where the enemy troops had disappeared. “I actually feel flattered.”

  They then marched back, the adrenaline that had fueled their bodies dissipating with each step.

  Raen turned his gaze to the man next to Kaelen.

  An older man, holding onto a staff. The staff was humming with a low thrum Raen felt in his teeth.

  A Wizard.

  Their trump card for this battle.

  Wizards were a rare bunch. Some would say too rare.

  There was no rule to the birth of wizards. They can be born to anyone – farmers, knights, or other wizards. Nothing will increase the odds.

  To be more exact, they are not just born. They are touched by the world’s pulse. The favorites of the world, the only ones who can command its power, bending the elements to their will.

  Below them were Mages, who were also given powers, but they were noticeably weaker and more common.

  Priests were similar to Wizards in that they commanded powers beyond the means of normal humans. But the source was different, as were the powers.

  Priests performed prayers that strengthened and healed others. Blessings. Even miracles.

  The Sanctum claimed that the power came from Aragos the Conqueror, who never died but ascended to Divinity. Other churches claimed other gods. All of them were partially right, and completely wrong.

  Gods do not give power. Belief does.

  When enough people believe in something – truly, desperately believe – the world responds. The pulse of the world shapes itself around that faith. And those who channeled that faith could perform miracles.

  Do Gods actually exist? Raen didn’t know.

  But he’d met and spoken to demons. So why not angels and Gods?

  The cultists were different from the priests. There were some who gained their powers from belief, but most gained them straight from the demons, by signing pacts with them.

  Maybe the demons were just another form of belief made manifest – a corrupted, chaotic form. Or maybe Raen hadn’t looked hard enough.

  Magic was … volatile. A hidden card for any army and kingdom.

  He studied the Wizard, named Corvin, as they marched back.

  He was old. Older than he looked. Magic also extended life – nobody knew exactly how much – but it came with a cost.

  Wizards rarely had children. And with time, their emotions waned. A side effect of communicating with the world for too long.

  “You’re staring,” Corvin said without even looking at Raen.

  “You’re the first Wizard I’ve ever seen.” He lied without batting an eyelid. “I was curious.”

  “Satisfied?”

  “How many Wizards serve the Empire?”

  “That is considered a state secret, boy,” Corvin said, this time glancing back at Raen. His eyes were dark brown. A single glance was enough to make a person feel as if they were in a swamp, steps heavy. “But however many of us there are, that doesn’t matter.”

  “What matters is that only a handful of us will fight.” Corvin tapped his staff. “Magic makes you powerful, but also a target. Most prefer their towers.”

  “But not you.”

  “No.” His smile was thin. “Not me.”

  Soon, they reached the camp, and Raen quickly left. He still felt goosebumps from the Wizard.

  Raen really didn’t like dealing with them.

  While going back to the squad’s tent, Raen observed the camp. He could sense that everybody was off.

  They had won, but missed the kill. The frustration was evident on all of them. They weren’t allowed to have their final showdown with the enemy.

  Marcus was the most frustrated in the entire squad. It seems he was looking forward to fighting elite soldiers.

  ‘Was he suicidal?’ Raen thought. ‘Just what drove him to fight in the manner he fights?’

  His strength was immense, almost touching the realm of Knights, perhaps on the very line that divides Knights from the rest.

  ‘Was he doing it to try and force himself to break through? To become a Knight?’

  Raen believed that perhaps that was the case.

  Marcus, Dral, and Mark were sparring.

  It wasn’t every day that Marcus would ask for a spar.

  Dral was strong. He was worth multiple soldiers, capable of defeating entire squads by himself. He was not using any tribal sorcery – maybe he didn’t want to give himself away, or perhaps he left before learning any.

  Mark, on the other side, was weaker. But that was only because he fought without using his true capabilities. He never showed his true fighting style. And Raen knew why.

  If either of them fought him without holding back, Raen would be dead in a single exchange.

  And yet, they were unable to even leave a mark on Marcus.

  Both of them were capable of using inner strength, like Marcus, and yet they were outclassed immensely.

  “Marcus,” Raen said as they finished their spar. “Are you a knight?”

  All three men stopped dead in their tracks.