The flames were warm against my hands, and the crickets hidden in the tall grass released soothing chirps.

"We should make it to the frontlines by at least noon tomorrow. I sent a letter about a week ago, so the alliance should know we're coming," Keith told me, the fire hissing as he threw another log in. "Though, I'm not sure if it made it, given the circumstances. Just be prepared for some hostility if they aren't expecting us."

I nodded my head, glad he had told me. I was curious about the current state of the frontlines in the south, wondering how the alliance would spread their troops now that they were victorious in the north.

"What is the alliance's next plan of action?" I asked. Keith thought about it, and it took him a moment to respond.

"I'm not too sure. I was never really informed of future plans, given my precarious position. I know that the best outcome is all of the Federation's defenses falling, and the alliance's remaining troops taking the capital together." He sighed, seeming lost.

"There's never really a set plan. So many things can change or go wrong. It is good that Markitan could win their battle, as that was part of the original strategy. I'm not sure how the other two will fare." He grew silent, a contemplative air surrounding him.

Keith's doubts were expected. You can never predict something as destructive as war, especially in a world where supernatural factors are in play. Even if one side has an obvious advantage, desperation can affect minds in ways you can never expect. Then, both sides lose, and there is no longer any gain to be found; only death and loss remain.

Recklessly, I ran the tips of my fingers through the fire, feeling the burn. But when I pulled back, no damage was to be found. It seemed I had gained some sort of fire immunity with my new skill. There were no delusions in my mind that I could throw myself into a burning fire and live, but it seemed temporary and superficial damage would not affect me.

It seemed the fire had also restored that small pool deep inside me. ‘Mana,’ Ilya had called it. It had slowly been trickling in on the ride, but the flames quickened the process. They were chaotic and wily, their every movement unexpected.

I hesitated, a question coming to my mind. "What's past the forest?" I asked Keith. Despite being next to the tree line every day, I had never asked or heard of anyone entering.

"I've heard there is some type of fortress right when you exit the trees," he answered. "Those are just stories, though. No one really ever leaves the Federation."

"Why not?"

He snorted, amused. "Because if you enter, you never come back. Everyone who has is probably dead. And anyone strong enough to survive doesn't want to leave. Those with real power are at the top, hoarding all the resources. They want everything to stay stagnant, so they can always be the ruling class. The Federation is a narcissistic country; it wants nothing to do with anything else and always thinks it's right. It doesn't allow for growth or improvement, and that's why the alliance was formed." His distaste for the Federation was evident, and his beliefs were firm.

The capital did seem intolerant. Granted, I hadn't seen much of it. "Why didn't a large group of people just leave together if they were so sick of the Federation? They might have had a chance."

Keith dragged what I assumed to be a stick through the burning embers, pushing around flaming wood and making the fire pop. "One group did, from Sethdol. We never heard back from them. An unknown enemy is worse than a known one, and we concluded that we had everything we needed here; we just had to take it."

He huffed out a breath and stood, discarding his stick into the fire. "Anyways. Let's get some rest. We need to be up early if we want to make it there before the sun goes down."

I agreed, turning my back to the fire. Despite the hard ground, I fell asleep immediately.

***

"There it is!" Keith exclaimed, and I sighed in relief. I was sore all over from riding a horse all day. "Grab the white shirt in your left saddlebag. We'll use it as a peace symbol, so they don't kill us on sight."

I did as he said, reaching into the bag and drawing out the only shirt it held. Hoping it was white, I handed it to him. I sensed two people elevated high in the air—probably in a tower of sorts—as I could hear the creak of bows being drawn tight. The perfunctory flag rippled in the air as Keith held it up, and we stopped dozens of feet away from the guards.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

Two horses with riders emerged from the camp, quickly trotting towards us. Keith called out a greeting, familiar with one of the people. They called out an all-clear signal and led us into the base. It was almost the same as the camp we had just left, except so much larger and very disorderly. The ground was muddy and squelched with every step the horse took.

We dismounted our horses at a stable, and I followed behind Keith as he conversed with his friend. They didn't say much of interest, just personally catching up with each other.

We passed rows of tents before reaching the center. There, the space opened up, and I followed to the tent in the middle. Entering, three imposing figures seemed to fill the entire room, conversing in low murmurs. They turned their heads when we entered, and Keith's companion—Bretton—saluted and announced our presence.

"Sirs, Keith, a [Scout] placed in enemy camps in the east, has returned with information."

Keith cleared his throat, removing his bag from his back. I did the same. "My position was getting unstable, the captain at the camp suspecting me," Keith told the leaders, who still stood silent.

"My companion and I made a last effort to grab any information we could get our hands on." He pulled out the wooden box I had almost died for, and it thudded onto a table. Then, taking out the papers I had grabbed from Captain Roth's desk, I set them down as well. "We haven't had the chance to review what we found, so I am unsure if any of it is useful."

The man on the left grabbed a stack of papers and shuffled through them. "I am sure we will find some use in them. You've done well, soldier. Welcome back."

"Thank you, sir," Keith said, his voice tinged with pride. We swiftly left, Bretton leading us away. We walked past more tents, stopping at one that was slightly isolated.

"Grab some basic armor, both of you," Bretton told us. "A weapon as well, if you'd like."

Entering, I quickly found some used leather armor piled on the floor and grabbed a set composed of torso, leg, and arm pieces. I also grabbed another axe that was like my old one but better suited for battle. I had hesitated at the large battle axes, but I knew I didn't have the skill to wield one properly.

Exiting the tent, Bretton stood there, tapping his foot impatiently. He looked me up and down before bluntly asking, "You are blind, correct?"

I paused. What did he want? "Yes."

"Do you have a class?"

"No, not yet," I replied. Bretton clicked his tongue, irked.

"Useless, then," he sighed, arms falling from their crossed position. "Fine. We'll put you with the rookies, who also don't have a class. I'm sure you'll fit in there," he mocked.

He led me away, Keith separating from us. Our feet squelched in the mud, cold wetness permeating through my boots. I hated it. We moved back towards the camp's entrance, where the flimsiest of tents were lined up. They flapped in the wind, clear even to me that they weren't set up correctly.

Young men sat and stood around the section, conversing and training with each other. They quieted as Bretton stomped towards them, eager to be rid of me.

"Another one is joining your ranks today," he announced to the young soldiers. "Find a space in a tent he can sleep in. No fighting." That was all he said before he swiftly departed.

They all stayed silent momentarily before returning to whatever they were doing. One approached me, and his disposition was revealed immediately as too kind for this environment.

"I'm Seth," he quietly said. "There's an empty cot in my tent. Would you like to place your things there?"

"I'm Carter, and thank you." He led me to a tent, where I put my bag and newly acquired armor on a free bed. Afterward, I walked over to a circle of stumps surrounding an empty campfire and took a seat. Seth had gone back to his companions.

I grabbed my new axe, running my hand along its blade and testing its weight in my hands. Now that we were here, I wondered if I would finally see battle again. It seemed unlikely, given my disability. But with how I acted, people around me tended to forget or not notice that I was blind. I was sure I would be able to participate, unnoticed among the masses.

I scoffed inwardly at myself, amused by my odd desire. It was like I wanted to die as quickly as I could. However, I was stronger than I had ever been, and I had experience on my side. Even if I had no clue how wars played out in this world, observing was an option. I could always run again if it came down to it.

But as my hand gripped my axe, the part of me that desired action pulsed like a beating drum. I had been stagnant since I had lost my eyes, and I could even say that coming to this world was highly advantageous to me, as others would despair at being taken from their homes.

Standing, I walked away from the tents to a clear area away from people. First, I had to get used to my new axe and adapt my skills to a different form—not just tree chopping. The axe I had chosen had a longer handle, about the length of my arm. Its head was also bigger, and its metal was of better quality than my frequently used axe.

I tested it, swinging it like I was chopping down a tree but following through. It was a different sensation, with nothing at my swing's end. I wanted to hit something, and the always present skill [Chop] did too.

Testing new angles, I swiped my axe against an imaginary enemy. It was easy to conjure up the lynx from many weeks ago, but this time I was prepared. It couldn't sneak up on me in this field, so we faced off equally. I moved my axe fast, [Chop] boosting its power. The axe had already begun to feel comfortable in my hands, a welcome weight and burn. I was sure I looked odd to any onlookers, but I didn't care. I never had.

The burn in my shoulders and arms was welcome. I had missed the exertion, even if it had only been for a day. Moving my axe to my right hand, I tested my ability to move it single-handedly. It didn't work out well; the axe's handle was too long for comfortable maneuvering. Still, I lunged and dove, fighting against fake enemies. My axe whistled through the air, and I envisioned bodies falling from each of my strokes.

The axe was a deadly weapon, quickly cutting through skin and severing muscle. It didn't pierce as well as a sword probably could, but it moved fluidly in my grip. It had been the first weapon from this world I had put my hands on, and it had gained me my first skill. It was a part of me—something that would grow as I did. I didn't know if I would ever get a class, but if I did, I had no doubt the axe would be its cornerstone.