Chương 52: Shadows and Sparks

The forest was quiet, save for the night insects and the occasional snap of wood from our campfire. Two faint orbs of light drifted above the clearing, our mana-lamps, barely strong enough to push back the dark. Beyond them, the trees pressed close, the air thick with damp earth and resin. A mist hung low across the undergrowth, turning everything beyond the lamps' reach into shifting shapes and suggestion.

Eight men slept near the wagons, sprawled in the shallow warmth radiating from the coals, and one sergeant's tent stood near a tree. The day's battle had left most of them with bandaged limbs or bruised ribs. The only ones awake were Walter and me, pacing the perimeter with our spears. Thanks to my [Minor Restoration (C)], I was in the best shape. Walter, ever reliable, had been assigned the night shift for that very reason, his steady presence made the others sleep easier.

Even the Sergeant seemed to trust him more than Colin, Owen, or Jack, who were supposed to become future members of his house. I had drawn the short straw tonight, but I didn't mind. Keeping watch gave me a reason to focus. So I layered [Guard Duty (C)] with [Mana Sensitivity (C)], letting the two fields overlap, one tuned to sound and motion, the other to the faint ripples of life and mana beyond sight. I'd been trying to synchronize them, curious if I could merge their feedback.

Walter walked with his usual slouch, armor half-buckled, spear dragging just enough to scrape stone. Yet, despite the careless posture, his awareness never dulled. Every time I shifted my stance or the forest wind changed direction, his eyes flicked that way, small, habitual checks born from too many years surviving nights like this. The silence stretched until his gravelly voice finally broke it.

"Why were you repairing Kael's armor today?" The question was as abrupt as it was blunt. His tone carried no real curiosity, just the weight of someone asking because it was his job to know. I adjusted my grip on the spear.

"Practice. The conscripts' armor lacks strengthening runes. I thought it'd be useful to etch one before it fails. It also gives me practice in case future fights damage the runes on ours." That was the official reason I'd given the sergeant. The truth was more layered. The conscripts were distant, bitter about being treated as expendable fodder. I couldn't change their orders, but repairing their armor felt like something tangible, a gesture that might narrow the gulf between us, even if just a little.

So after recovering my mana and patching up my wounds while Garran and Varric stood guard under the sergeant's supervision, I decided to make use of the downtime. I asked for permission to etch runes on one of the conscripts' armor, Kael's. I started with Kael because he had been the quietest among them. His civilian background set him apart, he'd once been a town guard before his crime. I hoped that small connection to law and order might make him more receptive to a gesture of trust.

Convincing the sergeant hadn't been difficult, which surprised me. His attitude toward me had shifted slightly ever since he learned I held a field medic specialization and the ability to draw runes from scratch. Someone with both was considered valuable. For me, though, it wasn't that hard. I'd already mastered basic utility runes used across the forts, and combining [Basic Rune Theory (C)] with [Memory Recall (UC)] let me identify suitable resources quickly.

Small fragments from the Stoneback's plates made excellent conductive material for rune repairs, while the Stealbeak's beak worked perfectly for carving precise grooves. Walter's boots crunched softly against the dirt. He stared at me for a while, clearly not buying my explanation. When he finally spoke, his voice carried a dry rasp.

"You're wasting your time." I glanced over.

"Maybe. But stronger armor means fewer injuries. Fewer injuries mean —"" — mean nothing," he cut in.

"They fight only because they're oath-bound. If not for the sergeant, or someone who can enforce that mana oath, they wouldn't even follow orders. And right now, you don't have the authority to enforce it. No matter how much you help, they'll abandon the fight the moment things turn bad." He stopped walking and turned to face me fully. The lamplight caught the hollows under his eyes, shadows etched deep, like scars time had forgotten to close.

"I've seen it too many times," he went on, voice low.

"Recruits like Colin or Owen, they'll die standing if it means buying their squad one more breath. That's duty. Habit. This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it But conscripts? They're just trying to live long enough to survive the army and earn their freedom." I didn't say anything, more because he didn't give me the chance. After saying his piece, he simply walked off, and I watched his back as he resumed his patrol.

He wasn't completely wrong, but a small, stubborn part of me still believed people could change. So, I wasn't giving up on fixing their armor. The practical part of me also enjoyed carving those runes, and it wasn't as if I planned to trust the conscripts blindly. Still, whether I trusted them or not, I couldn't agree with the sergeant's and Walter's approach, ignoring them most of the time and using them only as labor. In just two days, the squad was already wearing down.

Command kept assigning tasks meant for ten men, and we were doing them with six. Even if the conscripts wouldn't guard me out of loyalty, better armor would still keep them alive. And the longer they lived, the longer our squad would last. Pushing the dark thoughts of the future aside, we made another slow circuit of the camp. The mist thickened near the treeline, turning the world into pale smoke.

My senses stretched outward, the dual rhythms of my skills brushing faintly against the forest's pulse, birds, insects, and the steady thrum of ambient mana. No predators tonight. After completing our night's duty, we woke Colin and Owen. The next four hours would be their turn for the final watch before morning and the next day's march. As I settled down, Walter muttered, "You know, you act more like a scholar than a soldier." For someone who usually said little, he was surprisingly talkative tonight.

It seemed my actions had stirred something in him.

"You might have a bright future ahead," he added quietly.

"Just remember what I said, don't trust the wrong kind of man."

"I won't," I said. And I meant it. I had no intention of leaning on anyone blindly, noble or conscript. But I also wouldn't stop helping where I could. We crawled into our tents. The forest hummed softly beyond the lamps, alive but distant. The next ten days blurred into a steady rhythm of marching, fighting, and exhaustion. Dawn after dawn, we rose before the mist burned away, shouldered our gear, and followed the Sergeant's orders into the wild.

The forest thickened, the air growing heavier with the scent of moss, blood, and iron. Every clearing we entered carried the ghosts of old battles, scorched trees, broken nests, and half-buried bones. Our squad cleared three more beast dens and a handful of smaller nests. The first was a pack of Tier-2 wolves; the fight was quick but brutal, their coordination sharper than expected. A few days later came a herd of Rocksnout boars, massive creatures with armored hides that shrugged off ordinary spears.

We brought them down only after luring them into a ravine and collapsing the slope. The rest blurred together, ambushes in the undergrowth, the rhythmic clash of steel against claw. Each skirmish left us a little leaner, a little harder. The constant fighting and expeditions into the wild had worn us down, and the fatigue was beginning to show. Though our coordination as a unit had improved, our stamina had thinned, and long battles against larger numbers always left us with fresh wounds.

Those injuries were piling up, slower to heal each day. Our expedition was nearing its end, but what came next frightened me far more: our final target, an early Tier-3 beast known as the Venelion. Before confronting my first Tier-3 beast, I decided to check my status. [Class Progression] Junior Officer (Cadet) – Level 12 (700 / 1200 EXP) +5300 XP – Guarding against a Threat +975 XP – Expedition in the wilderness Level 5 → Level 12 Mana Cultivation: Tier 1– 0. 5 → 20.

5 [Skill Progression] [Defensive Spearplay (C)] – 21 → 25 [Mana Sensitivity (C)] – 9 → 22 [Soldier's March (C)] – 21 → 23 [Basic Rune Theory (C)] – 10 → 20 [Memory Recall (UC)] – 3 → 8 [Field Medicine (C)] – 12 → 22 [Minor Restoration (C)] – 15 → 22 [Applied Military Theory (UC)] – 8 → 10 Physical Attributes Constitution: 17 → 20. 5 Strength: 16. 5 → 20 Agility: 13. 2 → 15. 3 Spiritual Attributes Intelligence: 19 → 19. 2 → 21. 1 Wisdom: 15. 5 → 16. 2 Willpower: 10. 5 → 11.

2 STATUS Name: Edward Novice Class: [Junior Officer (Cadet)] – Level 12 (700/1200 EXP) Elemental Affinity: 0. 1% Wind Mana Cultivation: Tier 1 (20. 5/100) HP: 190 / 205 HP Regen: 55. 8/day MP: 413 / 413 MP Regen: 48.

5/hr Class Skills [Applied Military Theory (UC)] – Level 10 [Soldier's March (C)] – Level 23 [Defensive Spearplay (C)] – Level 25* [Guard Duty (C)] – Level 25* [Minor Restoration (C)] – Level 22 General Skills [Memory Recall (UC)] – Level 8 [Field Medicine (C)] – Level 22 [Basic Rune Theory (C)] – Level 20 [Siege Rigging (C)] – Level 15 [Map Reading (C)] – Level 12 [Mana Sensitivity (C)] – Level 22 [Hand-to-Hand Combat (C)] – Level 20 I had gained seven levels over the past ten days.

My mana cultivation had also improved, though progress was slow without mana crystals. Constant fighting and marching strengthened my [Soldier's March (C)] and [Defensive Spearplay (C)], while patching up my own wounds refined [Minor Restoration (C)]. Treating others' injuries boosted [Field Medicine (C)], a skill that had become a lifesaver. The squad had even started helping me identify and forage herbs in the forest. Working on the conscripts' armor improved my [Basic Rune Theory (C)].

I had a chance to upgrade [Guard Duty (C)] into [Sentinel's Vigil (UC)], a direct evolution, but my ongoing experiments combining it with [Mana Sensitivity (C)] had started yielding strange results. I hadn't gained a new skill yet, but I could feel I was close to something different, something better. Maybe it was a mistake not to upgrade, but I didn't want to lose the chance to discover what lay beyond the familiar path.