When the next day came, I made the silent walk outside the base with the rest of Unit 7.
"Listen up Arthur, you want to save people, fine. Stick with us, after the first rotation we'll help you do it. But for now, focus on fighting, and fight only. If we're going to do this, we're going to do it right" Felt said as we left the city.
"Yes sir," I mumbled.
Officer Mara stood at the front of the army. Ever since the death of our previous commander, she had been appointed in charge. After a brief, searching look, she nodded in approval, then turned away from us.
A grimace twisted my face as I overlooked the battlefield.
Months of decaying corpses had turned it into a pungent hellscape, unrecognisable from the first day. The stink was almost tangible, a physical force pushing me away.
Battle was something I'd never get used to.
My heart still pounded like a war drum, nerves frayed from the unbearable anticipation.
I had been a soldier in two lives, on two different planets, under two different names, fighting for two different empires.
And yet, this feeling never changed.
Spear gripped tight in both hands, I waited. For that one word. That inevitable command.
Any moment now...
"SOLDIERS!" Officer Mara's magically-enhanced voice rang out. "CHARGE!"
In sync with Unit 7 I charged, taking care to stay in line with them for once.
'Mana Surge.'
We collided with the enemy like tidal waves crashing together. Screams and roars filled the air, metal clanging violently.
The spear spun in my hands, cutting down soldiers with precise, lethal strikes.
Unit 7 fought with me, more skilled than I expected.
They weren't flashy or overpowering like the commanders, but they fought with discipline and efficiency.
Just like Officer Mara.
I felt alive for once. Stronger than I've been in ages. The spear flowed with me, an extension of my will.
Since awakening, my proficiency in mana had fallen behind my skill in the spear. I lacked any mastery over my elemental affinities and mana control. Not to even mention my blessings which I hadn't even begun to understand.
But I would only have time to fix those shortcomings after the battle.
Three enemy soldiers broke formation, swarming towards our lines. Two had spears. One had a sword. They locked eyes on me.
Once, this would've meant death.
Now… it still could—if I got cocky.
Taking the initiative, I darted forward, my spear plunging through the throat of the centre soldier before he had a chance to react.
The other two moved fast. One thrust his spear; the other came in with a slash. Pivoting away from the slash, I deflected the thrust, cracking the butt of my spear against his skill. He staggered backwards dazed.
Pressing forward, I drove the spear through his chest, yanking it out just in time to parry the sword strike.
"You bastard!" the last soldier screamed. "THAT WAS MY BROTHER!"
I said nothing dancing backwards, deflecting every rage-fueled strike, each one becoming sloppier and sloppier.
Timing perfectly, I swept my spear in a horizontal arc adjusting the grip into one like a quarterstaff. As he deflected it, I whipped the butt of my spear upwards.
He barely staggered out the way.
That didn't matter. Stepping in close, I exerted pressure, breaking through his defences. Blow after blow carved into his chest and stomach.
He stood frozen in shock for a moment, then he dropped.
We fought for hours until the retreat horn finally blared.
Walking besides my unit, we made our way back.
"Hahh, why doesn't it ever get easier?" I panted.
"Tell me about it," Noah sighed.
Mat snorted as he walked up. "Kids these days... Back in my day we fought three days straight. No sleep. No food."
"Back in your day?" Finn laughed. "You're a midget Mat, you haven't left your days yet."
Mat's eyes darkened. He stepped forward, but Petro's outstretched foot sent him crashing down.
Laughter erupted. Even Felt cracked a rare half-smile before locking eyes with me.
"So. How are we helping you, Arthur?"
Everyone fell silent, watching me consider.
"Really, I only need cover. My skill can heal injuries to a non-fatal point myself. The wounded will be able to retreat by themselves afterwards, or i'll help depending on the injury."
"Wait," Noah said. "How can you make wounds non-fatal?"
I smirked. "I'll show you. Got any injuries?"
"Take your pick" he grinned, removing his armour to reveal a shallow cut across his ribs.
Drawing my dagger, I made a shallow cut across my palm. "Cup your hands."
He hesitated but obeyed. I let the blood drip into his hands. "Drink."
Noah blinked. "What kind of psycho healing is this?"
"Just do it. You're wasting my blood."
Shaking his head, he drank. The cut on his ribs slowly closed.
Mat whistled. "That's some skill. Is that Asclepius's blessing?"
"Nope."
Felt and Mat exchanged a silent conversation.
"Is healing rare?" I asked, noticing their look.
Felt frowned. "Tell me—does healing affect you? Do you feel a drain on your stamina when you heal?"
"No. It's passive. Can't use it on myself though."
"And you're sure you don't have Asclepius's blessing?"
"Yeah."
Felt exhaled heavily, looking older all of a sudden. "Then yes. It's rare. Incredibly so. Your ability, it's considered to be 'higher' healing, right?" He asked, looking at Mat.
Mat nodded, eyes unusually solemn. "Yeah, that's higher healing."
"What's so wrong" I asked, frowning.
"Because" Mat continued. "The church has a monopoly on higher healing, and you're a threat to that. They won't take to you kindly.
"Why? Wouldn't they help me?"
"No. You see Arthur, higher healing is always as a result of Ascelpius's blessing or one of his kin—or so they claim. Anyone else would be a threat to that."
"Saints..." I muttered remembering that conversation with Marsh way back before this battle. 'Feels like a millennia ago.'
Mat chuckled. "Saints? Nah. Saints are far rarer. They have more than Asclepius's blessing. Though I'm sure half of what a saint can really do is hidden. No, you're no threat to Saints or anything to do with that topic. You're just a threat to the church's monopoly on higher healing. Especially if your healing ability grows stronger."
"So don't tell anyone else," Felt added. "Don't let the Church notice you."
I nodded. Made sense. My goal wasn't to get famous or powerful. Just strong enough to disappear.
We sat in silence after that, waiting for the horn to call us back to war.
When I returned to the battlefield, it was without my spear. But I wasn't empty-handed.
Not really.
Instead of one spear, I had six—they followed close behind me, weapons raised.
I fell into rhythm quickly, moving like a ghost through the chaos, dragging wounded soldiers from the inferno and healing them. My blood had become even more potent since awakening. I lamented again that it still couldn't work on me.
Without needing to watch my back, I could move faster, freer. That changed everything.
One soldier I knelt beside had a jagged gash across his stomach, and a dozen other wounds covering his body.
"Fucking hell," I muttered. "At this point you should've just played dead."
The soldier grinned, lips stained red. "Never been one for brains, eh, Gravewalker?"
"Drink." I held my bleeding palm over his mouth.
He chuckled weakly. "I don't think that's gonna replace what I've lost."
"Humour me," I snapped, watching his blood pool faster.
He hesitated, then drank. The bleeding slowed, but not enough. Too many wounds.
"Keep drinking," I ordered, even as I realized it wasn't going to be enough. He needed a real healer.
Shrugging off my armor, I dragged him onto it. "Grab the sides," I said. As he did, I turned, grabbed his legs, and hauled him like a sled.
"Felt!" I yelled. "I'm taking him to the medical tent."
"Alright!" Felt roared, cutting down an enemy. "Noah, go with him. We'll catch up."
I ran, trusting Noah to cover me. Weaving through the battlefield, I felt the difference—this Mana Surge was clean. No sleep-deprivation, no hesitation.
But just as I crossed a particularly brutal patch, I felt it.
A low rumble to the west.
It wasn't sound. It was weight—like something enormous had woken up beneath the earth.
The horizon rippled with motion. Dust clouded the sky like a coming storm. Thunder rolled from the ground itself as countless boots pounded the dirt.
An army.
I turned, heart hammering. Thunderclouds of earth rose from the march, the ground trembling under them.
Then I saw the flag.
A blood-red lion guarding a grave.
My face went pale. Breath hitched. I touched my cheek instinctively, remembering.
A prison. Cuffs. A metal rod slamming into me over and over.
"No…"
General Thanason.
Retainer of my father. The man who almost beat me to death after I—the old me—assaulted his daughter.
But if he was here…
Panic slid in like ice.
My transmigration had happened roughly two years before the novel began. That meant these first two years were meant to be… unknown.
Off the record.
Or well, that's what I had assumed, at least.
But if Thanason was here, then I wasn't in some forgotten battle.
No—I knew this battle.
"No, no, no, no, no," I muttered, as if I could wish it away.
Why hadn't I seen it?
The stalemate.
The insane length of the fighting. The endless waves of rebels. The rising death toll. The way the commanders moved like they had nothing left to lose.
This wasn't just a skirmish.
This was the battle. The one used in the first year of the novel to teach warfare. The bloodbath of the rebellion.
The Empire's grave.
The place where the great General Thanason fell.
The soldiers around me cheered when they saw the flag. Their faces were full of renewed vigour and joy.
But they didn't know.
They lived in painful ignorance.
But I did. Because if this was that battle….
"Noah… we need to get out of here. Now." My voice came out hollow, stripped of emotion.
"What?" he asked, spinning toward me. But when he saw my face, he didn't argue.
"Alright. Where to?"
"There's a camp goi—"
I felt it a heartbeat before it struck.
A blistering surge of heat barreled toward me like dragonfire. Magic so dense it burned the air.
The sky flashed. A roar echoed through the heavens like the world had been split.
I turned just in time to see it—a comet of flame screaming across the battlefield.
The Mage Knight behind it wore a grin too wide, too cruel. His eyes locked on me like I was already dead.
"Fu-"