The man took a deep breath and braced himself as he touched the doorknob. When he stepped outside, he felt a rush of cold air invading his nostrils. It wasn’t a stretch to assume his brain had frozen right at that moment. He made a face, but there was nothing he could do about the season. The year’s hottest days were over, so it was supposed to be getting gradually colder, but there was no sign of that before today. So it was hard to prepare mentally for the sudden change, he just had to do his best with the clothes he had on and deal with it.

Good complainers never made good soldiers.

The sound was so intense it grated on his ears. Flashes of thunder could be seen in the distance, lingering in the mountains beyond the gloomy horizon. Elba's roads weren’t built with drainage in mind, especially when it came to the guard’s outposts far off the Royal Capital. Pools of water would accumulate all over the terrain and avoiding them all was inconceivable. With each step taken, dirty water splashed on his legs, soiling his brand-new iron greaves. The Elemental Nine be praised, no matter how bad the weather got outside he wouldn’t dare complain. Tonight, they had a roof over their heads, and a warm bed under their bodies.

Around the fireplace, rubbing their hands together were several men trying to heat themselves on that harsh, strange night. From the fun they were seemingly having, if not for the rain, their laughter would have been easily heard from the other side of the camp. One could see what he saw and fall victim to envy, but in reality they were the lucky ones, all of them here were blessed. Camped so far away from the Shaded Forest, they didn’t need to worry about feral beast sightings being reported here.

The haughty elven noble houses be damned.

The region they were camped in, the southern Quelas held an unrelated issue at bay. The political tension between the Elba’s Kingdom and the Melkor Theocracy had only grown more and more each day. Only a blind man had not realized that the waves of demonic beasts were invading villages and farms at night, destroying vegetation and animals alike. The border was too vast to be defended efficiently, and apparently the elves were also not in a favorable situation with refugees crossing the borders in caravans in thousands of the same direction, as an omen of what was chasing them.

Coming from the west, invasions were becoming more frequent and the politicians of Elba continued to adopt a neutral stance, avoiding burning the Kingdom's resources in sending supplies or army garrison to contain the advances of stray feral beasts in their subjects' land. Instead, the kingdom's authorities seemed to have delegated this task of restraining their advance to the elemental mercenaries of Sanctum. By advancing most of King Henrik's troops northward, towards the border with the Melkor Theocracy, to contain the uncomfortable risk of Theocracy attempting to cross the border in a moment of weakness, they stood alert and prepared.

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But tonight, they rested under the comforting assumption that there was nothing their commander could order when the weather held grudges of stormy clouds above.

Wearing a navy blue cloak that covered his entire body from the rain was a man who continued his journey to the wood cabin. Looking up, the situation did not seem to improve in the next few hours. And with the dark sky covered in clouds, the possibility of him having his path lit by the stars was nothing more than a distant dream.

Pulling a torch in his hand, he moved on until in a moment of carelessness he found himself losing his balance. His legs had faltered, and suddenly he found himself prostrated on the dirty mud.

"God damn it, not like this!"

However, a voice was present in that situation. His shoulder felt touched by an outside force.

"Private do you need a hand?"

"Pleas- I mean, yes sir!"

Helping Marcus to his feet was Commander Hubert Soren, his superior. A six feet tall man that imposed fear with a mere gaze towards him. His unique features made him easy to single out in a crowd, dark long hair and a unmistakable scar on his lips.

“The army does not provide reserve torches for your plain stupidity private,” Remarked Commander Hubert.

“You pull one of these stunts in the battlefield, and you're dead before you know it.”

Trying to cut his losses, Marcus searched desperately on the wet ground for his torch. But it was already soaked, and there was no possibility of rekindling it with the moisture impregnated in that way.

"Where were you headed to?"

"To the sawmill, to cut wood sir. The lads are almost out."

“And how do you plan on going? You can’t see a thing ahead of you without a source of light. ”

"Sir I was going to use the torch but I tripped. Sir!"

Frowning at the soldier, he approached Marcus and shook his head in disappointment. The commander's condescending eyes made Marcus's legs tremble, he was much more than his superior, a veteran war warrior decorated with his status as commander, a formidable fighter.

“Volunteering for the Kingdom’s army is one thing private, but you’ve got a long way to prove that you belong here.”

The tension in the air could be felt, and Marcus's stomach was full of butterflies. The humidity that surrounded the air and the storm that fell around him was not enough to moisten his throat, which had dried out in pure nervousness in front of his superior.

Crossing his arms with a judging gaze, he added. “And that reminds me, your promotion to corporal has been revoked private. You're out of torches, drenched in mud. You should consider yourself lucky that I’m here to help you. And I'm always going to be here for my soldiers, no matter how dumb they are.”

Taking his hands close to the ground, the commander pulled a branch from the dirty ground and raised it to the skies. Then sliding three fingers across the rough surface with his right hand he showed his partner an elemental technique. Marcus could not fathom what was happening, the energy that flowed like waves into his palm began to heat the wood the commander was holding.

『Ignis - Estus』