Kingdom of Verdwryn

Michael wandered the war camp during his rare moments of rest, his sharp blue eyes scanning the grim spectacle around him. The once-distant notion of war had become an unrelenting reality. Smoke hung in the air like a shroud, mingling with the acrid stench of sweat, blood, and scorched earth. Everywhere he turned, the camp writhed with life—not the kind born of vitality, but of desperation and survival.

Hastily dug trenches snaked through the encampment, their muddy walls reinforced with splintered wooden planks. Blacksmiths worked furiously at their forges, sparks leaping into the gloom as hammers rang against steel. The cries of the wounded echoed from the healer's tents, where overworked mages and medics fought a losing battle against death. Soldiers limped through the camp, their armor dented and bloodstained, while fresh recruits stood slack-jawed, overwhelmed by the chaos.

Michael moved through it all like a ghost, his presence unnoticed by most but never idle. His sharp mind absorbed everything—the way seasoned soldiers instinctively kept their weapons within reach, the tension radiating from officers as they barked orders, the unspoken camaraderie between men who had shared too many brushes with death. It was chaos, yes, but it was chaos born of necessity.

Magic, however, was what truly fascinated him.

He had seen its power in glimpses: a healer knitting shattered flesh with glowing hands, mages on the battlefield unleashing fire and lightning with devastating precision, knights wielding enchanted weapons that crackled with elemental force.

One evening, Michael approached a group of mages huddled around a brazier. They were an eclectic mix: a wiry man with tattoos spiraling up his arms, a middle-aged woman with streaks of silver in her hair, and a girl no older than sixteen whose bright green eyes flickered with nervous energy.

"Mind if I watch?" Michael asked, his tone neutral but his curiosity evident.

The older woman glanced at him, her gaze sharp. "Curiosity will get you killed, boy."

Michael offered a faint smile. "Better than ignorance doing the same."

That earned a chuckle from the tattooed man. "Fair enough. What do you want to know?"

Michael hesitated, then gestured toward the girl, who was carefully shaping a small flame in her palm. "How do you… control it? Is it instinct, or do you learn it like any other skill?"

The girl looked to the older woman for permission before answering. "It's both. You're born with the gift, but without training, it's dangerous. Like trying to tame a wild beast."

The older woman nodded. "Magic is tied to external mana—the energy in the air, the ground, even the living things around us. To wield it, you need a strong soul and precise perception. Without that, you're as likely to blow yourself up as your enemies."

Michael tilted his head. "And internal energy? How does that fit in?"

The tattooed man smirked. "Ah, so you've heard about that already."

"Only bits and pieces," Michael admitted.

The older woman took over. "Internal energy is different. Mages channel mana from the world around them, but knights and warriors use their internal energy. They channel their own reserves of mana, drawing power from within themselves to fuel their bodies. That's how a knight can endure more than the average man."

Michael frowned. "But if knights use mana too, why are they so different from mages?"

The tattooed man grinned. "Well, mages are more about manipulating the world's energy—casting spells and summoning elements. Knights use internal energy to enhance their physical strength and reflexes. It's not about controlling the elements, but about controlling yourself—your body, your stamina, your endurance. A knight can fight all day because they draw on their internal energy to sustain them, but if they're not careful, they'll burn out faster than a mage who's run out of mana."

Michael nodded slowly, the pieces clicking into place. Magic and internal energy were both forms of power, but knights and mages wielded them in completely different ways. Mages controlled the world's mana, while knights controlled their own reserves. But it seemed that both came with their own vulnerabilities.

Later that night, Michael found Captain Garren near a dying campfire, sharpening his blade with slow, methodical strokes. Garren was a knight, just as skilled as any mage, but with his own unique way of using mana.

"Captain," Michael began, sitting across from him. "Can I ask you something?"

Garren glanced up, his hawkish eyes narrowing. "You can ask. Doesn't mean I'll answer."

Michael smirked faintly but pressed on. "I've been learning about magic and internal energy. Mages pull power from the world around them, while knights use their internal reserves. But you fight with no flashy powers, and yet you're just as dangerous. How do you do it?"

Garren set his blade down, leaning back as he studied Michael. "Magic and internal energy aren't everything. We fight with skill, discipline, and training. We've learned to rely on more than just raw power. But, yes, internal energy is what sustains us in battle. It lets us endure."

Michael raised an eyebrow. "How does it work, exactly?"

"You'll learn in time," Garren said, his voice firm. "The difference between knights and mages is that we don't rely on the world's energy. We don't bend the elements to our will. But what we do have is discipline and control. We use our energy to power our bodies—our endurance, our reflexes, our strength."

Michael thought about Garren's words, the complexity of the forces at play between magic and internal energy. "So it's not just about power. It's about control."

Garren nodded. "Exactly. Control over your body. Control over your energy. That's what makes a knight different from a mage."

Michael's mind raced with possibilities as he returned to his tent. The captain's words lingered in his mind, a reminder that while magic and internal energy were powerful, they had their limits. The true key to strength lay in how well you mastered yourself.

As he lay on his cot, the distant hum of the camp fading into the night, Michael resolved to learn everything he could—magic, internal energy, tactics, and weaknesses. They were all tools, and in the right hands, tools could shape the world.