— Give me that, kid! — Umberto shouted, pushing me to the ground and taking the bag of bread from my hand.

  — Hey! What are you doing?! — I almost fell into a puddle of water, where I saw my own reflection, the image of a boy with dirty blond hair, yellowish green eyes, and ears almost a palm long. An elven child like any other. — There's only one bread for each of us there! — I protested, getting up from the hard ground and massaging my buttocks, watching the boy much bigger than me eating three breads at the same time.

  — Mufuh, fumungh, hmphm! — he mumbled with his mouth full, unintelligible. Swallowing, he concluded: — Brat!

  — Urgh. Great, now there's nothing for me to eat. Again! — Turning my back on the much larger boy, who unfortunately was none other than my father's firstborn, I headed into the nearby forest. — I'll go find something to eat in the bush, I guess...

  — Ha! Try the red berries, they’re delicious! — Umberto casually recommended one of the most poisonous fruits in the region, known for paralyzing and asphyxiating its victims. — And bring some for your brothers too!

  I headed deeper into the woods and made my way to my favorite hiding place, in front of a rock that displayed a series of people with halos around their heads above much smaller people. It was one of those divine ruins that the Order of Historians was always chasing, and the thing piqued my curiosity while also offering me a very welcome solitude, lying isolated among the ultimamora bushes, the deadly red berries that interested no one and grew all over the continent of álfheim.

  When I was sure I was completely alone, I pulled a quarter of a loaf of bread out of one shoe, another quarter of a loaf of bread out of another, a third piece out of my underwear, and a final piece out from under a bandage covering a scraped knee, for a total of one whole loaf of bread. Yes, it tasted a little too salty, and it was a little too moist, and it smelled suspicious, but at least I had lunch, something not all of my siblings could say that day (or most days).

  — Asshole... — I grumbled, staring at the stone.

  I didn’t really covet fame, riches, and power, but that didn’t mean I didn’t have desires. Compared to other kids, I was actually quite ambitious: I wanted a room of my own, three meals a day every day, and a few coins to spend on rare trips to the big city.

  It had been a hundred years since the end of the last sacred war, and the land was finally recovering from the rampant planting to supply the army, so there were promises of prosperity in the future, but I wasn't sure I would make it, not when my seven older brothers and two younger brothers were all competing to inherit my father's meager farm, which couldn't even keep us all fed. The reality was soon obvious: the chances of me inheriting the farm were virtually non-existent, while the chances of me being kicked out any time soon after one of my brothers was appointed as the new master of the home were virtually certain.

  Simply building a new home was not even a possibility either, as the nobles only allowed the use of lands not normally delimited to villages during times of war.

  And that earlier show of strength was also just one of the methods my brothers found to show themselves more worthy of their pathetic inheritance than the others, through acts of violence against their “inferiors” and demonstration of strength and talent as farmers, practically monopolizing the tasks of our house.

  That's right, even though I was the son of a small farmer, I had almost no experience in the fields because my older brothers didn't let me do much more than collect manure from the neighbors' cattle.

  In short: even at the age of ten, I knew that my future was uncertain at best, and it was not unlikely that I would die sooner than I would have liked, even employing all the nifty survival tactics I had developed over the years, such as hiding my meal wherever I could.

  So, sitting in front of the rock and surrounded by poisonous fruits, I thought about my alternatives.

  I thought, and thought, and thought...

  ?

  — Father, mother, I am going to enlist in the army of the Holy League — and so, I found myself announcing to my parents, at the age of sixteen, that I was going to become a soldier.

  It was the logical conclusion I came to after years of questioning what my best chance was to secure a future where I didn't end up like a corpse on the side of the road with no possessions.

  That is to say, immediately after the announcement of the emergence of the new Shadow King six years ago, recruitment efforts began, and a sacred expeditionary force against the shadow forces began to be trained while the royal family set out to find the Hero, the greatest and most powerful of God's chosen virtuous men, who should lead such war efforts. Not that I felt any great moral obligation to risk my life, however small, for this. No, my main reasons for seriously considering the life of a soldier were these:

  — The salary is better than that of a subsistence farmer, and the Jornadista Church will pay for all the equipment, food, and shelter expenses for the soldiers during the campaign, so I won't even need to spend a single Solari on it, thus being able to save a nice nest egg.

  — Secondly, just by enlisting in the holy army, soldiers receive the Title: Warrior Deacon, which grants an extra point permanently for each Attribute, in addition to authority equal to that of a common deacon, so even after the end of the campaign, I could continue as in many professions that require higher Attributes, or even get involved with the church or the Order of Historians.

  — And to top it off, the Hero always wins his fight against the Shadow King, so my chances of survival are actually quite high, maybe even higher than here — I referred to the brutal death of one of my brothers by monsters spawned in the forest, ending up becoming lunch for goblins, finishing my explanation.

  My father, a man with tanned skin and calloused hands, shook his head as if he had finally returned his attention to me, my words no doubt having gone in one ear and out the other. My mother, a kind-looking but equally hard-working woman, had long since risen from the table and headed for the kitchen.

  Not that I expected anything different from those two, of course, I was more reciting those words to confirm to myself that I wasn't making a wrong decision, and in that regard, I was successful in convincing myself.

  — Of-Of course son! Soldier, justice and everything, hahaha. And when do you plan on leaving? Today?

  — Uhm...

  Okay, I admit, I already expected my parents to congratulate me on my decision to leave, but I was hoping they would at least give me a few days of celebration or rest...

  Well, if that wasn't going to be the case, there was no reason to prolong my stay on that farm any longer. Staring at my shadow and the silhouette it cast, my appearance having changed little other than my height and the length of my hair, which now reached my shoulders, I decided:

  — Tomorrow, actually. If I leave now, I won't get to Right Foot before nightfall.

  — So, two loaves of bread, a piece of cheese and a canteen full of water should be enough, right?

  — I think s-?

  — Husband, this will probably be the last time we see our son for many years. Let the boy take at least half a sausage and a third loaf of bread — my mother interrupted, coming back into the room carrying a bundle. Placing the bag in front of me, she concluded: — Here it is, my son, food for tomorrow.

  I opened the bag and peered into its contents, realizing that there were four loaves of bread, a whole sausage, and almost half a cheese.

  I knew that more privileged children received gifts on their birthdays, and at that moment I wondered if that was how they felt.

  —...Thank you — I probably smiled like an idiot that day.

  ?

  — An average soldier gains an average of nine Levels during a sacred campaign! That means you retire on about three times stronger, faster, and with greater magical potential than most people! Even the most experienced adventurers often don't find themselves at Level: 10!

  As soon as I stepped inside the wall that surrounded the “big city” of Right Foot, my ears were assaulted by the shouts of an army propaganda agent.

  — I'm already convinced to enlist, could you speak more quietly...? — I grumbled to myself. — Well, at least it's convenient that I didn't have to look for the recruitment table for long — I noticed a man next to the one who was shouting, behind a simple wooden table, with a heavy notebook, quill and ink in his hands.

  I lined up and waited my turn. Surrounded by many more people than I was used to, I questioned my decision for the first time, not out of fear of the battles to come, but because, as someone who spent most of his time isolated among poisonous berries staring at a rock and thinking about life, I wasn't sure if I was sociable enough to be part of any group, even a war group. My turn to enlist, however, came too quickly for me to really have a chance to regret it:

  — Name, place of origin, and age — asked the officer, without even looking at my face.

  — Haicard from Wrong Way, 16 years old.

  — Be in front of the cathedral tomorrow at sunrise, soldier — He wrote down my information in the file.

  - Yes, sir.

  ?

  — Nghn... — I woke up to the growing noise resulting from the crowd that was quickly gathering in front of the city's cathedral. — Cold! — Obviously, I didn't have money to rent a room in the big city, so I slept in the square that was the place the officer had pointed out the other day, hugging my bundle of clothes and little food, and sharing my corner with other recruits.

  Trying to distract myself from the morning chill, I began to observe the impressive architecture of the cathedral in front of me: taller than any tree, the building had a myriad of towers ending in domes, and no right angles, but with many curves and circles, being built mainly with white stones, and full of gold details. In reality, the building copied the architecture of Paradise, the city of God, which floated on clouds of pure white and revealed itself sporadically in random corners of álfheim.

  That made me wonder: did the monster cities copy the architecture of Hell?

  —RECRUITS, PRESENT YOURSELVES! — ordered a man in full armor and cape on a wooden platform, displaying purple gemstone teeth as he opened his mouth. His voice was so powerful, I could only assume he must have had some points put into his Strength attribute, judging by his impressive lung capacity.

  Like everyone else waiting in the square, I approached the platform to await further instructions. There must have been about three hundred men and women there, but of course, that would not be the total number of recruits from the city, since the recruiting officers were expected to remain there for many months, if not years, enlisting as many people as possible.

  — You will now be presented with the sacred Mission of becoming allies of the Hero, serving at his side and fighting against the forces of shadow, thus fulfilling the will of God. Accept it, and you will immediately receive a benefit of one point in each Attribute — explained the man in armor, and he soon made way for an old woman adorned in white and gold clothes who carried a scroll in her hands.

  The woman coughed twice and then began to read the parchment:

  — We are elves, and brothers, all children of the ancestral father, God. We are born of virtue, and so we feel a natural inclination to pursue what is just... — that was not a text written by the church, but the transcribed speech of an ancient Hero, and the one who first created the Sacred League. I had heard it a few times in theaters and plays when I visited the city with my family in the past, but then it had a special impact, it gave me goosebumps. — ... Our deities realized that, if they continued to fight each other at their full potential, there would not even be a world left to rule over, so they reached a consensus: the Hero would fight as God's champion and representative of his divine will on earth, and the Shadow King would fight as the champion of the Dem?nia, a plague that mirrors the vile poison with which the evil deity wishes to pervert this world...

  Partly touching, partly enlightening, and partly a little too long, after nearly ten minutes of recitation, the woman's statement finally came to an end, and almost immediately, we were all greeted by a semi-transparent blue window, a force familiar to all, the System:

  Quest: Help the Hero defeat the Shadow King.

  Reward (immediate): +1 point in each of the Attributes.

  Penalty: In case of desertion, you will permanently lose -1 point in each of the attributes and will be marked with the Deserter Title.

  To accept?

  Yes  No

  I pressed the button that read “yes”, and the window was replaced by another one that showed my typical Attributes page:

  Name: Haicard of Wrong Way

  Level: 1

  Strength: 4

  Perception: 4

  Occultism: 4

  Strength governed almost everything related to a person's physique, from how fast someone could run, how much weight they could lift, or how resistant to disease and attack they were.

  Perception, it was about reaction speed, flexibility, and the senses in general.

  And Occultism determined a person’s amount of magical stamina. The more magical stamina, the more Spells one could cast… Of course, it wasn’t like ordinary people like me were taught Spells to begin with, so this Attribute was practically useless to me.

  They all measured in at 4 thanks to my newly acquired Title. All just a point above average. Not too good, not too bad. I had heard, however, that the bearer of the Hero Title had stats in the hundreds... I could barely imagine what that meant in practice.

  — Those who have accepted the Mission, listen to me! — the amethyst-toothed man shouted again. — Head to the wagons on your left, present your Title: Warrior Deacon to the officers, and await instructions!

  — And now, the march begins... — I sighed.

  Of course, the training camp wouldn't be located in the middle of a city, and I doubted we'd all be packed into the comfortable interior of some vehicle.

  So I prepared myself as best I could, and set off.

  ?

  I sighed, looking up at the blue sky.

  — Seriously, when am I going to get this fucking Skill? — I couldn't keep the frustration out of my voice.

  We were being trained from dawn to dusk, far beyond exhaustion, to achieve a specific set of Skills, these being Spear Proficiency Lv. 1, Sword Proficiency Lv. 1, and Armor Proficiency Lv. 1.

  — I thought I would leave here sooner than you, but it seems I was wrong... I wanted to be one of those talented people who level up and gain Skills faster than everyone else — agreed Maicon, a recruit sitting to my left, who unlike most of the others in that camp, carried an axe at his waist instead of a sword. Aside from his atypical weapon, his only notable feature was an ear cut in half in a work accident, his short dark blond hair, and moss green eyes like most common-born elves.

  Maicon came from a family of lumberjacks, and so already had Axe Proficiency Lv. 1 before he even enlisted, so he was allowed to keep his preferred short-range weapon.

  — Tch, if I knew I could get another position just by having a Skill, I would have used the bow and arrow more while I was still in the village — I complained.

  — Back with this, man? — Maicon asked with a half smile.

  — I mean, I don’t think I’ll die on the front lines, since we have the Hero and all, but why take an unnecessary risk like that? If I could have stayed in the rear just shooting arrows, I definitely would have chosen that fate — I shrugged, replying. — Even better if I could use magic.

  — Well, at least you'll learn how to use a sword. Can you imagine being stuck with a tool? Something that's used to cut logs? If we're talking about better chances of survival, I think you have a better chance of getting out of this alive than a certain someone — Conrad, a fellow recruit on my right side, pointed out with a mischievous smile on his face; he was another young elf with a generic appearance, but with his central incisors well separated.

  — Are you trying to pick a fight? At least I have a Skill! You wouldn't stand a chance against me, okay?!

  — Oh, really? Unlike your arch-enemies, I wouldn't stay still in the same place, you know?

  — You talk like rocks are running around! If we're talking about the target of our blades before the army, you're no different than me!

  — Except that a rock miner's work contributes to a worthy industry.

  It was true, Conrad, as a construction rock miner, he had Pickaxe Proficiency Lv. 1, so he could technically keep his preferred weapon in the army as well. Except he didn't have a war pickaxe when he enlisted, and the army didn't have any to offer him either, so he ended up being assigned to Swordsman and Spearman like the overwhelming majority of the others.

  — What are you insinuating, huh?!

  — I mean, the materials I collected were used in cathedrals, and castles, and beautiful palaces, pure art! And you collected twigs for huts. We may both have a Skill, but honestly, we are incomparable.

  — Do you really think you're so much better just because you worked with rocks and not wood?!

  — Yes, I feel so much better for exactly this reason.

  — Grr! Haicard! Hold me back, or I'll end up court-martialed before I even finish my training!

  — I really don't understand the rivalry between you two. It's like watching a farmer who grows beets competing with one who grows carrots. Honestly, it's the same thing.

  Both of my companions sighed at the same time in disappointment.

  — Said the guy who spent ten minutes explaining the best position in the marching line to walk slowly enough to not get too tired without being noticed by officers. — Maicon pointed. — You would have to march for hours anyway, wouldn't you?

  — That's completely different — I defended myself.

  — Said the guy who spent the last few days secretly collecting poisonous berries “for emergencies.” We’re dozens of days’ march from the shadow territory, and we’re just recruits. Honestly, if there was an emergency, we’d be screwed with or without those berries, right?

  — These are completely different situations — I crossed my arms, certain.

  Fortunately, before those two could continue trying to find flaws in my logic (there were no flaws), an officer stopped near us while mounted on his horse and questioned:

  — What are you guys doing there?

  — We are resting after the end of our training, sir! — I jumped to my feet, standing at attention, and answered immediately.

  — You look well rested to me. You're on night guard duty today, head to the east tower.

  — Yes, sir! — we answered in unison.

  ?

  Arriving at the top of the wooden tower, the three of us came across a hooded boy holding a bow and arrow.

  — Hey, Haicard, look, an archer. Ask him if he doesn't want to change roles — Maicon nudged me with his elbow.

  If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  — Shut up, man — I grumbled, not wanting to offend our partner for the night.

  — What? You don't care about a Ranger's better chances of survival and all that anymore? — Conrad went ahead and insulted the Ranger...

  — Greater chances of survival just because I'm an archer? — The hooded boy narrowed his eyes. — Hmphm! What nonsense. Just so you know, reconnaissance and sabotage activities are those with the highest number of casualties, and it's almost always soldiers like me who are sent on them: Archers.

  — This is just an inside joke, please don't pay attention to what these two are saying — I raised my hands, trying to deescalate the situation. — Anyway, I'm Haicard, this is Maicon...

  — Hey.

  — And this here is Conrad...

  — Hey there!

  — ...We'll be keeping you company tonight. Well, at least until midnight or so.

  — ...You'll accompany me for half my shift, then. Hmph. Do as you wish, just don't get in my way.

  — Half your shift? — I asked. —What is it, are you being punished for this attitude of yours with a full night shift?

  — What? First of all, I don't have an “attitude”, and secondly, I'm not being punished at all, but privileged!

  — Oh, look at the guy — Maicon frowned slightly.

  — Are you acting stupid? — Conrad crossed his arms.

  — First of all, you didn't introduce yourself when we told you our names, and second, you're already disregarding our help. That seems like a reprehensible attitude to me — I shrugged.

  The hooded boy sighed, pulling his hood back and revealing a face with sharp eyes and abnormally fair skin.

  — ...My name is Owl.

  — Haha! No way! Conrad laughed.

  — That's really my name!

  — Right... Owl, and why are you on a full night shift if it's not a punishment?

  — It's because I have the Skill: Insomnia. It allows me to go 48 hours without sleeping without suffering any penalty. I let the Sacred League know about this from the beginning, so they decided to put this skill to good use, and are training me for nighttime activities and stuff.

  — Wow! — the three of us admired in unison.

  — A rare Skill? That’s… well, rare. — I added absolutely nothing to the conversation, but I felt like I needed to say it anyway.

  — Yeah, and now you know why your help doesn't mean much to me. I have a lot more experience with this kind of thing, or I wouldn't have gotten this Skill. So just try not to bother me tonight.

  Owl pulled his hood over his face again, and turned to the horizon, looking for any movement or suspicious activity like a good lookout.

  We still had six hours of shift left, and apparently not much work to do. It was going to be a long night, by the looks of it.

  ?

  — ...And that's why I enlisted — I concluded my life story as the three of us leaned on the parapet of the watchtower.

  Conrad and Maicon both clapped at the end of my monologue.

  I couldn't say what prompted me to tell my story to the three present, since we had talked about everything a little in the last four hours, but apparently I ended up inspiring the others, because as soon as the two finished applauding, Maicon coughed, clearing his throat.

  — Very well, now it's my turn.

  — Please, don't tell me you three are going to retell your entire life story... — Owl sighed, massaging his glabella. He was on the opposite side of the tower, but it's not like it was far enough away that he couldn't hear us, after all.

  — My father is a lumberjack. Not some sort of big boss of the industry or anything, just a lumberjack. And I've had an axe in my hands for as long as I can remember! — Maicon ignored the hooded boy and began his story.

  — And since when are you considered “people”? I always saw you as a worm — Conrad pointed out.

  — Grr, maybe not “people”, but definitely a murderer if you don’t shut up…! — Maicon looked with genuine bloodlust at Conrad, who smiled and covered his mouth with both hands, signaling that he wouldn’t interfere anymore. — As I was saying, I started working when I was very young, always cutting down trees. However, it was always my father who took care of selling the trunks and all those details. But, of course, things couldn’t go on like this forever. If he wanted me to take over the profession in his place one day, I had to learn everything about it. So, a few years ago, he started teaching me this more mercantilist side and everything. Soon, I was sent to take care of this matter alone for the first time! Then, when I arrived in the city, I heard the recruiter’s speech, I was impressed, and I enlisted!

  — Wow... — Conrad didn't even mock the former lumberjack, who was influenced by military propaganda the first time he heard it alone.

  — What willpower... impressive — even Owl felt disappointed, and he didn't even know Maicon.

  For my part, I remained silent. Of course, I too had been influenced by all the propaganda from the Jornadista Church and artists about holy war, but in my case, I liked to pretend that my decision had been one made largely on a logical basis.

  Well, with or without a good reason, Maicon was in the same place as me, so I couldn't say he had made a bad decision without being a hypocrite. Our chances of survival and success were the same, after all, and they weren't that bad.

  — What about you, Conrad? — I asked, suddenly even more curious about the others’ motives.

  — Unlike the idiot here, I have a good reason, okay?

  — Oh, is it? Then please let us hear such an excellent, exuberant, magnificent reason, oh, your excellency of good reasons!

  — Sure — Conrad shrugged, but unlike when he used to make fun of Maicon most of the time, he didn’t have a half smile on his face, he seemed strangely serious. — Like you, I come from a family of workers, but in my case, we were stone miners for construction. And I say “were” because there are no other members of my family in the business. My father died in a work accident and, well, you don’t see me mining now, do you? Anyway, that wasn’t the only tragedy that hit us. A flood destroyed our house shortly after my father passed away, and the money we received for his death was used to repair the house, without us even being able to pay for a proper grave. But he was a good man. He doesn’t deserve to be buried in some field without even a good headstone. So, I enlisted, and as a bonus, my mother is spared a lot of taxes that would make it impossible for her to live on her own in our new house, so much so that she can eat every day now.

  — ...Yeah, that's a good reason — Maicon looked away and retracted his aggressive posture.

  — ...My condolences — Owl also commented, to my surprise. — I... know how hard it is to lose someone important to you — he explained. And when we fell silent and paid attention to him, he continued: — I've also suffered losses. More than anyone should suffer. My... My entire village was massacred. It was the shadow army on some kind of secret mission in the heart of the League's territory. I still remember the voice of the monster that killed my mother. I couldn't see his face because my mother hid me in the latrine pit so I could escape the massacre, but I remember his voice well. I couldn't forget. Not when I hear it every night, so clearly that I can barely sleep... It was because of this paranoia that I got Insomnia. I can't rest. I can't... not until I get my revenge.

  — ...It seems like it's just you and me on this boat of silly stories, Haicard — Maicon put a hand on my shoulder.

  — No, wait a minute, my story at least has some drama, like, with all my brothers and everything! — I tried to defend myself.

  — Conrad, how many brothers do you have? — Maincon asked, unconcerned.

  — Eight.

  — Owl, how many did you have?

  — Eleven.

  — And I have five myself, and I was just as hungry as anyone else. Not to mention the periodic monster attacks. I know it can be hard to accept your own mediocrity sometimes, Haicard, but don't worry! Your friend Maicon is here for you!

  — Urgh... — I knew very well that my case was far from unique, but even so, it was a little hard to be confronted with that reality so abruptly.

  But there was at least one other thing I could focus on about what Maicon said.

  The word friend. It was the first time I found myself next to someone not just out of obligation, but because I was happy to be in that place. Maicon, Conrad, and even Coruja, who I believed would inevitably end up getting closer to us, my friends. I might just be an ordinary and ambitious young man, but I could finally see a future beyond the gutter.

  — Hu. Yeah, I'm counting on you.

  ?

  Ahead of me stretched a valley surrounded on both sides by mountains of steep rock, devoid of any plant life, leading us straight to a high wall of dull metal. There nestled a huge reddish-black tower of the same material, a pillar at least fifteen times taller than the defensive towers of Right Foot, to which thick pipes coming from the ground were connected, propellers similar to those of windmills were embedded, and from it hung spikes and boxes of mysterious function. It was called First Shadow, and was supposedly one of the last buildings erected in the Age of the Divines, before the cycle of champions was established, and it was a divine ruin of the kind that attracted hundreds of Historians, who were genuinely relevant to scholars, unlike the stone I stared at in my village.

  There, my first battle would be fought.

  The fortress was then inhabited by the army of the current Shadow King, or at least a tiny portion of it, part of the troops of his weakest Shadow Baron, “Zelvon”, or something like that, and from the gossip that spread among the soldiers, that was not even a point of extreme importance in the overall calculation, just another enemy outpost that would be better if it did not exist. And when I watched the leader of our forces walking side by side with the Historians...

  — Yes, indeed this battle will filter the wheat from the chaff, Duke Constance — promised a masked, hooded man with glowing red eyes, an extremely hoarse voice, and a hunched posture. That strange figure alone was enough to take from my mind any consideration I had ever had for becoming a Historian. — And it will also be of great satisfaction to our Master, the news of the resumption of his main target of studies — I had no doubt that all this was little more than some kind of exchange of favors between members of high society.

  Still, none of that should be a problem... If the Hero came to participate in that battlefield.

  No, he was too important, too powerful to have his talents wasted on a fight in a practically forgotten territory on the edges of the elven territory, with very little strategic relevance. No, he was dozens of days away on the march, invading some castle of a powerful monster or something.

  Much of it was common knowledge about the Hero, but I was too dumb to imagine that kind of knowledge was kept secret in order to recruit soldiers more easily.

  — ...Shit — I cursed under my breath.

  I had been a fool to think that I would even have a chance of sharing the battlefield with the Hero. I was no safer here than I had been in my village. No, I was even more vulnerable.

  — MOVE FORWARD! — our commander, the Amethyst-Toothed Duke, ordered from the back of his horse, and we, the infantry, began to march forward, approaching frighteningly close to the immense walls of the metallic fortress.

  — Hey, relax. I'll cover you, and you cover me, right? — Maicon, to my left, exchanged a look with me, his eyes as wide as mine must have been.

  Then I looked to my right and noticed that Conrad was sweating, even though we had been resting all day and the march had just begun. Noticing my gaze, Conrad nodded.

  — Sure.

  I advanced with a round wooden shield in my left hand, a bastard sword in my right hand, and a simple cotton doublet, equipment mass-produced for the holy army, almost everyone else wearing the same items.

  There were a few exceptions, like Maicon, who carried axes, maces, and the like, but in general it was a fairly uniform front line, with short-range weapons in one hand, shield in the other, and cotton armor of dubious quality.

  Of course, this only applied to the front lines.

  Following right behind us, a second troop of about four thousand soldiers, half of our total numbers, was significantly better equipped, with chain mail, leather pieces, and even a few rare pieces of plate armor, as well as weapons that were clearly individual and of a quality evidently superior to ours. But that was not the only, or most important, difference. No, what made me frown and almost spit in frustration was the almost imperceptible aura surrounding those soldiers: Strengthenings.

  That faint light emanating from the bodies of the soldiers at the rear of the army was the result of the powers granted to them by the troop of Strengthening Mages, soldiers specialized in magic that increased the Attributes of their targets, or granted even more impressive results.

  Of course, there were still our superiors, members of the nobility, who rode in front of their subordinates, completely covered from head to toe in practically invulnerable plate armor, equipped with many named items, equipment imbued with magical power, and sparkling as brightly as shooting stars from the many Strengthenings that affected them. Not only were the damned ones blessed with lives of hundreds of years, being pure-blooded elves, but they also had every advantage they could buy, or rather, inherit.

  — MISSILES! — yelled one of the Knights under Duke Constance's command, announcing the firing of long-range spells against our forces, and we all raised our shields, lowered our postures, and continued to march, crouching, without stopping.

  Behind my wooden shield, I couldn't see the magical projectiles, which could be the fruits of a myriad of different Spells, approaching, and to my surprise, I couldn't even hear them.

  Was it really because of the total silence from the enemy attacks, or because my heart was pounding so loudly in my ears that I was practically deafened?

  “BOOM!”

  Whatever the case, I could definitely hear the explosions resulting from the impact of enemy magic.

  “BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!”

  To my left and right, in front of me and behind me, the black gravel of the valley exploded under the impact of the magical attacks.

  — Gahr!

  — Wargh!

  — Uurgh!

  And at the same moment, grunts of wounded soldiers and strange thuds could be heard and mixed into a truly infernal cacophony.

  — Eh? — Something wet squirted on the back of my neck. — Wh-What...?

  I couldn't resist my morbid curiosity and looked back over my shoulder.

  And the sight that greeted me was of a boy, who must have been even younger than I, falling to his knees, a circular hole the size of a fist in his shield... and a third of his head missing, a staggering void where his right eye had been.

  — FORWARD! — A Knight with a mage at his side conjuring a transparent barrier against which the magic projectiles shattered, useless, noticed me paralyzed and pointed his sword at me.

  — H-Haicard! Move, man! — Maicon, pale as snow, grabbed my shoulder and forced me to continue marching forward.

  I continued, knowing full well that if I stopped, I would only end up being struck down by magic, or by the blade of a superior, but that didn't stop me from looking around.

  — Garh!

  — Waaahr!

  — HELP! HELP!

  Men and women of fourteen, fifteen, twenty and beyond being pierced, slaughtered, limbed, and bleeding, falling to their knees, sideways, frontways, and backs only to be met by thousands of boots from their fellow recruits, forced to keep going.

  — Holy shit... holy shit...! — my mouth was as dry as the Sangria Desert, and my hand was shaking so much that I doubted I could even land a blow on an enemy even if I made it to the damn fortress alive.

  — ARROWS! — the Knight shouted, and soon after the arrows reached us with dry thuds, shaking our shields, which turned out to be even worse than I imagined.

  — Argh! — I screamed as an arrow pierced quite a way through my shield, entered one side of my forearm, and had its tip come out the other. — Aargh! Aargh!

  — Fuck, fuck, fuck...! — Maicon stared at my wound with wide eyes.

  — Hang in there! — Conrad tried to encourage me, but he didn’t seem so sure himself.

  Even in extreme pain, I continued to march, without a choice.

  After what seemed like an eternity under a hail of spells and arrows, we finally reached the gates of the fortress: while the wall was entirely made of indestructible divine metal, the entrance to the historic ruin was little more than a barricade of rubble piled up by its occupants.

  — BATTERING RAM! — ordered the noble Knight, and a group of Mages emerged from the heart of the army, protected by veterans and other mages capable of conjuring barriers.

  The protected ones formed two parallel rows, facing each other, raised their hands to the center of the rows, and once blue circles with complex and incomprehensible inscriptions appeared in front of their hands, a small stone appeared in the middle of the two rows of Mages, and soon began to gain more and more mass, as the agonizing seconds under intense fire prolonged.

  — SHOOT!

  The rock was magically hurled towards the pile of rubble blocking the entrance to the fortress with impressive speed, crashing into the enemy's defensive measure and shattering both itself and a portion of the barricade, the fragments of conjured rock soon disappearing into blue particles.

  — Seriously... — I didn't know whether to laugh or cry when I peeked over the side of my shield, and realized that the barricade would need at least a few more hits to break.

  The Mages responsible for the magical battering ram immediately began conjuring a second stone, but in the meantime, we recruits were being slaughtered in droves by the Spells and arrows fired from the walls.

  — It won't work... we'll die if it continues like this...! — I saw myself in complete despair before I could even see a single monster, and this time Conrad couldn't find the strength to even try to keep me hopeful. — No... no chance! No chance! I didn't come all this way to die like a stray dog! — I looked around me, looking for anything I could use as protection, a rock, a depression, anything!

  Unfortunately, the enemies had probably cleared that terrain of anything that might serve as an obstruction against resistance to them... except they couldn't remove something that wasn't there before our attack.

  — I'm sorry...! — I approached the nearest corpse, sheathed my sword, and lifted the body, placing it in front of me.

  Looking around, I realized that I wasn't the first one to have had that idea, and there were plenty of recruits who did exactly that, and the extra layer of protection seemed to actually work even against powerful Spells, but it was me that Maicon and Conrad were inspired by, putting themselves to do the same sacrilegious act.

  — Kuh...! — A Spell struck the body I was holding, piercing its armor, flesh, and bones, but losing enough strength to dissipate against my shield. The same shield as the arm pierced by the arrow. — It hurts... so much...! — Tears inadvertently came to my eyes, but I wiped them away immediately, not allowing myself to lose my vision during such a crucial moment.

  Especially since, moments later, the Knights announced:

  — THE BARRICADE HAS BEEN BROKEN! ADVANCE! ADVANCE! EXTERMINATE THESE MONSTERS!

  Pushed by my fellow recruits from behind and threatened by my nearby superiors, I had no choice but to leave my meat shield behind and press forward, moving toward the broken gate.

  — This is not good...! — As I approached the entrance that had been created, I realized that our enemies, not being complete idiots, had prepared a second defensive line in the form of a simple wooden wall with spikes. A defensive line of goblins, creatures that smelled of urine, with green skin, huge noses and ears, and small, yellowish eyes, the top of their bald heads not reaching past my belly button. They were wielding spears behind the obstacle and were already stabbing the deadly weapons at the recruits who were being pushed into the fortress, quickly piling up bodies. — If I go in there, I'll die!

  I tried to retreat, but the recruits behind me, ignorant of the dangers ahead and terrified by the gunfire from the walls and the threats from our own commanders, would not allow me to take a single step back.

  I looked around desperately, searching for any way that could serve as an escape route, but everywhere I looked there were only soldiers, corpses and walls.

  — Walls...!

  I reached the nearest metal wall, already inside the fortress, and began climbing what appeared to be a pulley built into the old structure.

  — Aargh!

  My arm pierced by the arrow caused pain on a level I had never experienced before in my entire life, but I either had to endure that pain, or I would throw myself into the sea of ??enemy spears ahead. So, I climbed above the sea of ??elven heads, and managed to escape the waves of holy soldiers that were literally breaking against the enemy's second offensive line.

  Many died from the missiles fired from the walls, and many more fell before the spears of the little creatures inside the fortress, pierced, cut, and trampled, slowly bleeding to death or suffocating under the weight of dozens of their own companions.

  For a moment, from my perch, the invasion seemed doomed to failure. But no matter how many dead men piled up, more soldiers continued to pour into the fortress, and within minutes, the crude wooden barrier the goblins had erected had been reduced to rubble by the lives of dozens upon dozens of recruits.

  Once the shadow army's second line of defense fell, the battle quickly spread throughout the fortress's courtyard and the interior of its hollow metal walls. Not long after, the first veterans showed up, and some even pointed at me and laughed, but at least one of them ordered me to come down from my nest and throw myself into the fray under many threats.

  I dropped down from the wall and looked around, searching for the battle that would be the easiest to win. Not that I had enough time to actually find the ideal opponents, since if I took much longer, my superiors would cut me down right then and there.

  I ran into a group of recruits who were surrounding about a dozen of the little green creatures against a wall.

  — Haicard! — Coincidentally, Conrad and Maicon were part of that same group, and had somehow survived the breach of the second defensive line.

  — You're alive?! — Maicon was surprised.

  — Don't be surprised, damn it! It almost seems like I'm going to die at any moment now! — While I liked to imagine myself as a calm man, I couldn't help but yell at my partner, my nerves on edge.

  — Stop flirting and go after those goblins now! — a recruit near us pointed his sword at the monsters.

  — They have spears, they have a greater reach, what can we even do?! — I replied.

  While we raw recruits argued amongst ourselves, the green creatures must have decided our indecision was a loophole, and all rushed in at once with their spears.

  — Damn it! — I backed away as fast as I could, avoiding the sudden thrust, but the recruit who told us to advance was not so fast, and one of the goblins' spear went through his throat, and his mouth became a red fountain.

  There was no time to worry about others, however, as the goblin before me kept advancing towards me with stab after stab.

  As much as I wanted to just turn my back on the creature and run away, I knew very well that that wasn't an option. So I hit the tip of the spear with my sword, pushing it aside, and jumped towards my opponent.

  My sword ran the length of the spear's wooden shaft, and with a shout, I swung my blade at the goblin's neck. I intended to deliver a fatal strike and kill him in a single blow, but my aim was not as accurate as I would have liked, and I hit the enemy's shoulder instead.

  — BOAARGH! — the goblin roared as his right arm hung limp at his side, his shoulder broken.

  The little creature was also, after all, wearing cloth armor similar to my own, and my blade, even surprising my low expectations, proved to be even cheaper and duller than expected and was not even able to cut through the cotton.

  Still, an enemy with a broken arm was better than an unharmed enemy. Unfortunately, that wasn't the only goblin attacking us.

  — Aaai! — I felt a stab in my left thigh, and I stepped back, forcing my leg to propel me backwards even without knowing what kind of injury I had suffered, overcoming not only the pain in my arm nailed to the shield, but also that of my mysteriously shot leg.

  Having put some distance between myself and my attacker, I realized that it was the goblin who had killed the recruit who had yelled at me earlier, who, having dealt with his target, had turned to help his companions. The creature wielded a dagger that served as a short sword in its hands, a weapon with which it must have attacked me, since its spear was still stuck in the throat of a corpse. Fortunately, however, I saw no blood on the tip of the dagger, so it must have failed to pierce my armor. What had happened was that the goblin tried to reach my relatively unprotected groin, but must have missed its target, and slid its blade along the length of my long doublet over my thighs.

  I didn't want to think about what might have happened if that dagger had hit its intended target.

  There was no time to think: the goblins knew well that they would be exterminated if they didn't break through our sloppy front line, so they continued to ferociously charge at us recruits, wounded or not, even the one whose shoulder I broke, also wielded a dagger and brutalized the groin of a recruit who fell practically instantly.

  I didn't want to think about it, but in the end I was forced to confront exactly my fears...

  — Kaah! — I blocked an attack with my shield, the impact on the wood resonating through the shaft of the arrow piercing my arm, and making my entire skeleton tremble.

  I retaliated with a stab, but the goblin jumped back. Making sure that I wouldn't be surrounded by the little monsters, who were now locked in combat all around me, I advanced with my sword raised above my head, ready to make a cut.

  The goblin would not allow himself to retreat any further, as cornering himself against the wall would be his end, so he planted his feet firmly on the ground and held his dagger with both hands, his determination shining like the sun in his small yellow eyes.

  — Wargh?! — the little monster roared as I kicked a pile of sand at its face, temporarily blinding it. — Guh-! — it grunted as my blade hit it square in the head.

  The crappy sword, however, failed to cut through the cotton hood the enemy wore and kill him. Still, the attack was enough to make the little monster stagger, stunned for a second, and give me an opening for another flurry of blows.

  And I didn't let that opening pass me by: I slammed my sword into the goblin's hooded head again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and I kept slamming it until blood ran down its face, and I kept slamming it until the little creature curled up in a fetal position on the ground, covering its head. I stopped using my sword as a club only when I remembered that the damn weapon had at least one point, when I kicked the weakened goblin's arms away, and plunged the sword into my enemy's swollen, sweat-, tear-, and blood-soaked face.

  My heart was beating so fast that I had become deafened from the rest of the battle, only able to hear my own heartbeat in my ears, and sweat dripped from my chin like rain and soaked my clothes and turned them dark.

  — I-It's not over yet — I looked around and checked the situation of the confrontation.

  What I observed was that this was, unfortunately, balanced: half of the goblins had died, and half of us recruits had died too, and everyone else involved was in a worrying predicament.

  And among these struggling recruits, I noticed Maicon and Conrad fighting side by side against three enemies at the same time, since the clashes had spread across the battlefield. I ran to help them. But I wasn't fast enough.

  — MAICON! — I shouted, seeing a spear enter under my friend's chin and exit through his left eye socket, the metal tip crowned by the boy's eye.

  Maicon immediately dropped his axe and shield and raised his hands to his face, trembling, his mouth open. The goblins surrounding him, however, offered no respite, and tore open the arteries on the inside of his thighs with their daggers, bringing him to the ground.

  — WAARGH! — Conrad, his face dyed red with rage and his friend’s blood, swung his sword powerful enough that he had somehow managed to use it for its intended purpose, and severed the neck of one of the goblins. — RAAGH! — He immediately moved on to the next opponent.

  Suddenly, it wasn't two against one, because when I finally reached him, I kicked one of the golins in the back of the knee, knocking him onto his back as I drove the tip of my sword into his face.

  Looking up again, I saw Conrad with a cut on his thigh, but piercing the neck of the last of the three enemies that had originally surrounded him.

  — Conrad, are you okay?! — I asked, holding my friend's shoulder.

  — As much as you...

  Looking around, we made sure we were out of immediate danger and approached Maicon's corpse.

  We did not utter a single word, and, perhaps to the misfortune of the deceased, we were not even able to look into his flushed face. But we shed tears, and these carried our most genuine feelings.

  Next, the veterans entered all the main buildings of the fortress, where we were not allowed, and within minutes, all the opponents had been slaughtered.

  And so my first battle ended. With one less friend, but one more Level.

  As the corpses of goblins fueled the fires outside, the surviving recruits, finally allowed some rest, were served some bread and porridge, and were reminded precisely how to distribute our Attribute points that we had received.

  Two weeks later, we found ourselves on another equally insignificant and bloody battlefield.