Kingdom of Verdwryn

The war against Zeranthia was unforgiving. The Kingdom of Verdwryn was locked in a brutal conflict, and every soldier was needed at the front. There was no time for elaborate trials or extended training—every recruit had to prove themselves in the heat of battle. Captain Garren's orders were blunt: no delay, no excuses. Everyone would be thrust into active combat immediately.

Standing before the recruits, Captain Garren's voice rang out, cutting through the tension like a blade.

"Listen up. Everything you want—better manuals, better weapons, gold, women, even noble titles—you earn through military merit. Nothing comes free. Every privilege, every advancement, is paid for in blood. Yours, or someone else's. If you can't stomach that, you'd better hope you die quickly."

Michael clenched his fists at his sides, the reality of war settling like a weight in his chest. He had fought before, but this was different. This was survival. There was no room for hesitation.

Michael's assignment was to a small reconnaissance and skirmish unit. It was a diverse group, each with their own abilities and attitudes, and their first task was clear: eliminate a group of Zeranthian scouts spotted near the border. The enemy's scouts were known for their stealth and brutal efficiency, often leaving no survivors to tell the tale.

Alric Veylan, an adept mage, stood before them, radiating an air of disdain that only someone with true mastery could afford. He didn't trust the knights, and he certainly didn't trust Michael, whose wood-based magic was a wild card to him.

"We're not here to show off," Alric barked, his voice cold and commanding. "We strike swiftly, decisively, and without mercy. We don't leave survivors."

Beside Michael stood Torval Greaves, the young knight-in-training. Though his enthusiasm sometimes clouded his judgment, Torval's optimism was an asset in the bleakness of war. His skill with the sword was still raw, but he had a natural talent for camaraderie and was Michael's closest ally in the unit.

Seren Loche, a quiet, calculating archer with mastery over wind magic, moved like a shadow. Her aim was deadly, and her presence on the battlefield was nearly as silent as the wind she controlled.

Gregor Thane, the towering earth mage, was a brute of a man with a heart as solid as the stone he controlled. Though he was slow on his feet, his sheer power and ability to create impenetrable barriers made him an invaluable ally.

And then there was Kara Ilsen, the pragmatic healer. Though she wielded water magic, her real talent lay in her ability to keep everyone alive. She wasn't interested in glory, but she was a cornerstone of the team's survival.

Michael's mind sharpened as the team set off. His Nature's Pulse flared with life as he scanned the terrain ahead, sending out a pulse of magical energy to detect any signs of movement. The forest was thick with underbrush, and the enemy had carefully spread themselves to avoid detection. But Michael's senses were honed, and he knew where they were.

"They're split," Michael murmured to Alric. "Two pairs. We can take them one at a time."

Alric's eyes flicked to him with skepticism but nodded curtly. "Then prove it."

Michael didn't hesitate. He focused on the nearest pair of scouts, their figures half-hidden by the undergrowth. "Torval, move left. Seren, take high ground. Gregor, create a barrier here to prevent escape."

As they moved into position, Michael bent low to the ground, the earth whispering to him. He reached out with his magic, sending Binding Roots into the soil. The roots extended and twisted, silently creeping toward the scout closest to him. They wrapped around his legs, binding him in place with an unyielding grip.

The scout yelped in surprise, trying to draw his blade, but before he could react, Michael flicked his wrist. A spear of wood shot from the ground, piercing the scout's chest. His body slumped to the ground, silent as death.

The second scout, hearing the disturbance, turned to face him. Michael was already moving, his body fluid as he used Shifting Step to close the gap in an instant. The scout drew his sword in a panic, but Michael had already moved behind him, his Verdant Blade flashing with deadly intent. The scout's sword was disarmed before he even had time to strike.

Torval appeared at Michael's side, his sword raised high. With one swift movement, he drove his blade into the scout's heart, the enemy crumpling to the ground with a ragged breath.

"That was quick," Torval said with a grin, his youthful excitement fueling him.

Before Michael could respond, Alric's fire magic lit the clearing with a fierce glow. Torrential Wave. A flood of fire surged toward the remaining scouts, forcing them to scatter. The heat of the flames cut through the air, scorching everything in its path.

"Now!" Alric shouted, his voice a command that echoed across the battlefield.

As the scouts regrouped, Michael tapped into his Seeded Battlefield ability. He twisted his fingers, and the ground around the enemy began to shift. Poisonous mist began to rise from the soil, and snaring roots shot up from the ground, wrapping around the legs of the nearest scout. They struggled, their breath coming in labored gasps as the poison clouded their senses and drained their strength.

Seren's arrows rained down from her perch above, each one finding its mark in the chaos. Two of the remaining scouts fell, their bodies dropping like ragdolls as the wind whispered through the trees.

But the remaining two weren't so easy. They had learned from their comrades' mistakes and were trying to fight back with desperation. One of them, a larger figure, wielded a massive axe and charged toward Michael with terrifying speed. He swung with the force of a battering ram.

Michael reacted instinctively. As the axe came down, he used Living Wall to create a barrier of roots and stone between himself and the oncoming blow. The axe struck the barrier, splintering the earth, but Michael absorbed the force with his stance, his feet digging into the ground as he braced for the impact.

With a grunt, Michael retaliated with Stonebreaker Slash, a powerful horizontal swing that sent shockwaves through the earth. The force of the slash sent the large man stumbling back, his axe flying from his hands.

The final scout, a woman, drew a dagger and rushed toward Kara, aiming to take her down. Michael couldn't let that happen. He leaped into action, his movements a blur as he activated Verdant Tempest. The whirlwind of strikes from his Verdant Blade overwhelmed the woman's defenses, forcing her back. His blade landed a glancing blow on her arm, disarming her before she could do any real damage.

The fight was nearing its end. Gregor stepped forward, raising a barrier of stone between them and the final scout, trapping her in a corner. Torval moved in, sword at the ready, and with a final strike, he ended the scout's life.

The forest fell silent again, save for the crackling of flames and the labored breathing of the team.

Alric nodded in approval, though his expression remained cold. "You did well, but this was just a skirmish. The real battles will test you far more than this. Don't get comfortable."

Michael took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the battle settling on him. His mana was low, but he had been efficient. He had used his traps, his magic, and his blade with deadly precision, and his team had played their parts well.

Torval clapped Michael on the shoulder, grinning. "You were amazing out there. Glad you're on our side."

Michael offered a tight smile. The fight had been bloody, chaotic, and brutal—but he had proven his worth. He wasn't just a soldier. He was a strategist, a force on the battlefield. And no matter what came next, he would face it with the same resolve.

The war had just begun.