The battlefield stretched before me like a canvas of carnage, painted with blood, sweat, and the torn remains of battle standards. Bodies lay where they had fallen—some clad in heavy armor, others in nothing but tattered cloth, their lives extinguished in moments that now seemed frozen in time. The scent of iron and charred wood hung heavy in the air, mixing with the distant cries of the wounded and the sounds of scavenging. Our victory had slipped through our grasp, and now, the field was a mess of chaos, desperation, and greed.

With Sultan Unquid’s retreat, many of the mercenaries—both Aserai and Imperial—had shifted their priorities. There was no honor left to claim, only the chance to survive and profit. I watched as groups broke off, sifting through the dead and dying, looting weapons, armor, and anything of value. A grim reality, but one we all understood. The spoils of war were both a prize and a necessary burden to cover the losses and debts of battle.

I moved cautiously through the battlefield, my eyes scanning for anything useful. Leon and a few of our recruits, bloodied but alive, trailed behind me. Silvana and her crossbowmen had regrouped, keeping a wary eye on any who might challenge us for our findings. The weight of exhaustion pressed down on me, but I pushed it aside. There was still work to be done.

As I bent to pry a finely crafted dagger from the hand of a fallen Valandian soldier, something else caught my attention—a faint glow, just beyond a pile of splintered shields and twisted pikes. It was subtle, almost like a flicker of torchlight, but unmistakably there. I straightened, my pulse quickening. The light called to me, pulling me through the debris as if an unseen force was guiding my steps.

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The glow emanated from a shattered banner, its tattered fabric draped over a broken staff. The banner was unlike any I had seen before—deep crimson with intricate golden patterns that shimmered in the dying light of the setting sun. As I stepped closer, the glow intensified, and I felt a pull deep within my chest. I reached out, my fingers trembling slightly, and grasped the torn banner.

The moment my skin touched the fabric, a surge of energy coursed through me. My vision blurred, and for a heartbeat, the battlefield fell away. I was standing in a void, weightless and suspended, as if the world had ceased to exist. Then, as suddenly as it came, the moment passed. The battlefield returned, and I was back, kneeling with the banner in my hands.

A notification flashed in my mind, a familiar yet jarring intrusion into reality: *You have found an unclaimed torn banner to be used as the material for the banner. Add your blood to forge your banner and complete the tutorial.*

I looked down at my arm, where a shallow wound from earlier in the battle still oozed blood. Every decision, every drop of blood, was real. But I had come too far to turn back now. I pressed the wound against the banner, letting my blood seep into the fabric. The crimson stain spread, merging with the glow, until the entire banner pulsed with light.

A flash of white, blinding and pure, erupted from the banner. It surrounded me, and though I instinctively expected shouts or gasps from those around me, there was nothing. No one else seemed to see it. The light enveloped me completely, warm and reassuring. When it faded, the banner was whole once more, the fabric pristine and vibrant. It hummed with power in my grasp, a symbol of something far greater than myself.

This chapter marks the end of first Volume "Tutorial".