The Runic Alchemist

The nearby forest and many tents instantly caught fire, and suddenly the entire area became much brighter and more chaotic. Everyone ran in all directions to escape the burning arrows. Mages used spells to protect themselves and the people around them, while spellswords and pugilists attacked the incoming arrows, trying to deflect them.

However, most of the victims weren't those with power; it was the mundanes who paid the price for this sudden ambush.

Yovan moved to the center of their back-to-back defensive circle and began chanting a spell. Sam, still focused on the dark forest that was now more visible due to the fire, trying to figure out where the attack would come from.

As Yovan continued chanting, Geldric and Jorven punched the air upwards continuously, with Einar slashing streaks of red light in between to defend their little circle from the arrows.

There they are.

In the distance, hundreds of soldiers clad in grey and blue—the colors of Ashenvale's royal house—emerged from the forest and began attacking the chaotic soldiers, picking off those who ran alone or in pairs. Yovan's spell activated, and a massive shield of water formed above them, absorbing the volleys of arrows with ease.

The Ashenvale soldiers attacked only those who fled into the forest for protection, staying in the safe zone themselves. When the fiery arrows finally stopped, Yovan dismissed the spell and began chanting again, as a swarm of enemies charged toward them, just like everywhere else in the camp.

Sam's eyes locked onto two men running toward him, both mundane, one with a sword and the other with an axe. Taking a few steps forward to keep them from getting too comfortable in their approach, Sam braced himself for the first man's attack. As the man struck, Sam dodged and angled his blade, allowing the enemy's sword to slide down to the ground.

Staying low, Sam quickly pulled a dagger from behind his back and buried it in the man's neck. Without pausing to check the results of his strike, Sam immediately adjusted his stance, taking two steps backward to reestablish his form. He raised his blade just in time to block the attack from the second man, the one with the axe—a more muscular opponent.

Sam knew he couldn't withstand the blow head-on without losing his balance, so he focused on dodging the man's heavy, air-splitting swings. Each time the axe came down, Sam sidestepped, giving the man just enough room to overextend himself. The wide swings left the man vulnerable, and when one of the strikes was weaker than the rest, Sam blocked it and then kicked the man squarely in the knee.

Despite being a kid, Sam was still a first-ranker, and no mundane could overpower him easily. With the man off balance, Sam flicked his wrist and performed a quick maneuver Captain Valoris had taught him, rotating his blade for a surprise thrust upward, driving it deep into the man's skull.

Blood sprayed everywhere as the man collapsed, his eyes lifeless beneath his iron helmet. As the man fell, his helmet rolled off, revealing his face—he was young, barely 17 or 18. Sam had taken two lives in a matter of seconds. These were people with families and friends, now gone forever—never to return. He felt no pride in his success, which knowing himself he should have felt. This was no game.

But this was also no time to feel things, That would come later. Right now, the only thing he needed to do was kill—just kill, one after another—until they realized he wasn't just another kid. Until they knew he was to be feared.

For over an hour, they fought in the same formation, enduring a gruesome, hard-fought battle against all manner of enemies. They handled the mundanes on their own, but whenever a first-ranker appeared, they joined forces, launching a combined assault of magic, fists, and blades. Yovan supported them from behind, chanting spells without pause.

They weren't the strongest on the battlefield, but it soon became clear they were not to be taken lightly. Only the more powerful enemies dared to attack them, while the mundanes left them alone.

Little did the enemies know, that was exactly what they wanted. One or two first-rankers were no match for a talented mage like Yovan or a spellsword prodigy like Einar. The cousins were even more fiercer than the two, beating down foes with their fists. Overall, they didn't face as much trouble as the rest of the soldiers running around in the chaos.

The battlefield was in disarray, but eventually, Captain Valoris and the other commanders managed to regain control, barking orders until the army reunited and swiftly dealt with Ashenvale's advancing unit.

The Ashenvale force wasn't large—they had hoped to cause more destruction with their surprise attack. The Pyron forces realized this once they engaged them and defeated them without much effort. Sam couldn't understand why the Ashenvale soldiers would throw their lives away in such a reckless attack. It seemed insane.

Why would they willingly charge into a much larger force, knowing they'd be slaughtered? Surely getting captured was better than embracing death in such a way.

Finally, the attack ended, and they were able to take a breath, relaxing their heightened senses and racing hearts. Sam walked over to the river, his friends beside him. As he looked at his reflection in the water, illuminated by the nearby fires, he saw blood everywhere—on his armor, his hands, and his face. It felt disgusting, thick, and sticky.

It was an odd thing to focus on amidst everything else. He had killed countless men today, he felt something inside him breaking little by little. His friends were silent too, each lost in their own thoughts, cleaning themselves and their weapons with unreadable expressions.

Sam couldn't sense it, but he knew that after today, he would never be the same again. Maybe that was a good thing, or maybe it wasn't. He only knew that it was necessary. Better now than years later. It was time—he had to grow up, and grow up fast. The world did not wait for him to be ready.

It just threw everything it had at him, either making him stronger or breaking him until there was nothing left.