I was assigned to one of two surveillance squads. Our job is to watch the battle play out from the side and report what we see. Be it enemy movements, a break in formation, or where allied artillery can most effectively fire.

Of the other three 'scout' squads, one was positioned with the magical artillery, and the other two were integrated into the infantry lines. Though they were called scouts, they really functioned as communication relays to advise the captains and various other commanding officers.

With me was veteran Miki, and another of the recruits, Skeb. Miki was in charge of passing info to Albatos, and Skeb was an extra pair of eyes to observe the field. My job was to keep an eye on our surroundings. If we paid too much attention to the field and let our guard down it would be easy for an opposing scout party to pick us off, so I'm here to watch our backs.

We positioned ourselves in the brush in the forest on the north side of the clearing ahead of the main force. After waiting for an hour, Gen's troops arrived and organized themselves. Miki established whatever magical connection line he and Albatos were using, then we waited.

Another hour passed before Irving's army arrived. Irving rode out ahead and Gen met him in the field.

"What the hell?" Skeb said, "I thought they were here to kill each other, not have a friendly chat with a nice cup of tea." He sighs, "Oh, what I wouldn't give for a cup of tea right now."

Miki chuckles, "We're here to kill each other. To them this is like a big game, one used to increase their honor and standing." He frowns, "Wait, you've had tea before? What's it like?"

I stop paying attention to their conversation at that point and watch as Irving and Gen broke off, each riding back to their respective army. As I turn back to the forest around us, Irving's force advanced and I heard the sounds of battle. I try to blot out the sounds of death and destruction to better focus on the surroundings, but it was hard. Those sounds have a way of reaching your ears, no matter how much you wish they didn't.

An hour or two passed, I didn't keep track. Skeb and Miki kept having hushed observations and conversations all the while.

Eventually, I felt a tap on my shoulder. It was Miki, "Stein, we need to move. We've done all we can here. It's going worse than expected and the battle has come a little too close for comfort." Looking past him I saw the battle had indeed moved much closer to us, and if Gen's forces kept getting pushed back there was the risk of us getting caught up in it.

"Alright. Let's get deeper into the woods. We'll circle back and regroup with the rearguard." Leading the way, I head deeper into the woods, keeping my senses sharp. Moving like this exposes us, and I didn't want to stupidly stumble into anyone else sneaking around the woods.

"He-"

Even as I turned I heard a second crunch follow the one that had cut off the cry. It's only because I had already been tensed to react to anything I'm barely able to move my head out of the way as a flash of crimson hued silver pierces past my cheek, tracing a searing line across my face.

Before me, beyond the shaft of the spear that nearly took my life is a young man, barely older than I am. As he pulls his spear back to make another thrust I leap backward, hastily forming the hand sign for, "Anti-magic area!"

The man freezes as the spherical zone encompasses him, and as I land I see the two fallen figures behind him. "Hey!" I call out, before my breath catches in my throat. I grimace, faced with the cruel reality that both of their skulls have a gaping hole.

The man swings his spear off to the side, flinging off droplets of blood and brain matter. His gaze never leaves me, his eyes harboring an intense focus. His mangy brown hair is broken by a pair of animal ears, and I see a tail swishing behind him.

I draw my rapier, a simple blade with an unadorned crossguard. I had chosen it at Arim's suggestion. 'Unlike monsters, people are easy to break. Stick a thin piece of steel in one of a few spots and they die. A rapier gives you speed, piercing capability, and reach. And if you reinforce it durability isn't an issue,' He had said.

Still, the fact this guy just slaughtered Skeb and Miki in less than a second is absurd. Reinforcement can give you a little extra speed if you tweak the parameters, but I simply refuse to believe he could accelerate himself that fast. He has to have been using some kind of spell. I feel a derisive smile form on my face. Hell, if he isn't then there's basically nothing I can do against something that monstrous.

The spearman takes a stance, angling the point of his weapon downward.

Here he comes.

He lunges forward, thrusting the spear at me. I parry it to the side with my rapier, then step forward and slide my blade along the shaft to slice at his face. He quickly steps back, using the brute strength of reinforcement to swing the length of the spear, knocking my blade off course and bringing the bladed tip of the spear dangerously close to my head.

So I was right. He's fast, but that was nothing compared to the lightning speed of that first attack. Time to test the limits of his skill.

The spear is one of the most versatile and powerful weapons a warrior can wield. It essentially has all the strengths inherent to the quarterstaff, plus the added lethality of a bladed tip. However, in a basic military formation, the spear is mainly used as something to lead a charge with, then discarded in favor of something like a shortsword, a weapon that's much simpler and easier to use.

So far all he's done is thrust, and if that's the only thing he knows how to do then it's a pattern I can break. All I have to do is close the distance, get inside his guard, and he should fall apart.

As I strategize, the spearman takes his stance once again. However, instead of stepping forward to thrust, he thrusts without moving his footing.

What?

From an unmoving stance, the point of his weapon shouldn't be able to even get close to me, yet it halts a mere inch from my chest. Looking at the single hand holding the spear I see it's held onto at the very base of the shaft, in some kind of claw grip. I see him move to take that forward lunge, and instinctively sense the point of the spear will move forward with it, straight into my chest. With the blade so close to me already I react on instinct and grab the end of the spear and push back against its forward momentum.

At least, that's what I try to do. Contrary to my expectations the man doesn't push it forward at all, instead using his forward step to bring his other hand up along the shaft of the spear. Using his new hand placement as leverage he gives a great heave, and swings the spear with all his might.

My hand, still holding the end of said spear, is dragged along its path, pulling me off my feet and sending me flying. The world spins as I sail through the air. The force of landing knocks the wind out of me.

I scramble to my feet as fast as I can and am immediately forced to defend against a barrage of thrusts, each feeling more difficult to parry than the last. Desperately, I leap backward and pull out the dagger I had hidden under my clothes. I throw it at the spearman with all the grace of a drowning dog.

Thankfully, my little gambit surprises him, and he tries to bat it out of the air with his spear, but misses. The dagger clunks against his chest uselessly and falls to the ground.

I take the moment of reprieve I've bought myself to catch my breath and refocus. Arim taught me about various tactics and techniques a spear/quarterstaff user might use, but I don't think even he would have expected a move that outlandish. However, he failed to capitalize on that little stunt, and now I know he likes to do things a little unorthodox.

I think my little dagger trick angered him, because now he's staring daggers at me. He assumes his stance once more, and I check our distance.

Without a doubt, that was his maximum range he used before. However, I shouldn't rule out the possibility of him using his weapon as a javelin.

He charges in again with a flurry of thrusts. I parry them one after another and inch my footing forward with every deflection. His speed increases as he piles on attack after attack.

When I feel I'm close enough I launch a counter to one of his thrusts, but he sees it coming and backsteps to try and evade my reach. I don't allow him the opportunity to distance himself, stepping in to press the offensive. I slice at his face, and he blocks with the broad side of his spear.

He shifts his stance and pushes back against my blade before swinging the butt of the spear around my sword. I duck under the blow aimed at my head and slide my rapier under the spear and back up around it, scoring a cut along his left bicep. I barely hear his sharp hiss of pain as the butt of the spear comes back down and jabs the side of my head.

I stumble back, slightly stunned as my opponent examines the cut on his arm. Even from a distance, I can tell it's not as deep as I would have liked. Though it bleeds, since it lacks depth it likely won't affect his movements. The man takes his stance again, the look in his eyes seeming to blaze hotter than ever.

He dashes forward, shifting his stance this time and swinging the spear like a baseball bat.

There it is. That's more like the moveset of a quarterstaff. However…

I raise my arm up around my head and lean into the blow, strengthening the reinforcement in my arm and my core. The wooden pole thuds against me like a stick against a barrel, ratting me a bit, but not causing any real damage. I have to admit, this guy was pretty damn good at using the full potential of a spear. Unfortunately for him, I had trained with someone who was yet better still.

In a battle of mages, a quarterstaff falls off in power scaling quite a bit. If the level of both parties' reinforcement is about equal the damage from a wooden pole can be more or less shrugged off. Still, that smarts, so I'll mix in more parries to move in again… Holy shit what's with this guy?

As he kept whacking away at me I felt the blows rain down faster and faster, harder and harder. What started as blows leaving red lashes across my skin quickly developed into impacts that felt as though they would shatter bone if my reinforcement waned for even an instant.

Fuck! I miscalculated, this guy isn't just a battlemage like me, he's a full on sorcerer! It's not a spell he's using to give himself that speed, it's a projection.

Basically, that means the anti-magic area I have up is completely worthless. The spearman starts mixing thrusts in with his bashing attacks, and I lose my rapier as I parry a blow with several times more mass than it should have had. As he pulls his spear back to deliver a thrust I wouldn't be able to parry, I feel inspiration hit.

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I see it, the core idea of his projection. It's speed, plain and simple. He's building a combo with every attack he lands, building speed with each successive hit. With such rampant speed comes ever greater power. Pretty sure it was the law of someone or other that force is the product of mass times acceleration. This guy's using that combo to build up attacks too fast to see and too powerful to defend against. But still…

As the spearman prepares to thrust his spear in an attack that will surely take my life, I undo anti-magic area. As the spearman feels the zone recede back into me he hesitates, distracted.

Quickly with his off hand, he makes the handsign and starts, "Anti-ma-"

I don't give him time to finish, rushing in. With a single hand, he tries to defend with an off-kilter thrust. Narrowly leaning out of the way I spin my body around and bring my leg up in a spinning wheel kick that connects with his head. By either luck or skill, his area deploys regardless, enveloping both of us.

As I thought, he wants to rely on his projection to win this fight, and won't risk a contest of magic. However, even though he sees it as his greatest weapon, it exposes his lack of a good foundation and discipline. Annora was right, you can tell the quality of reinforcement by how a blow feels. And those blows that had started off feeling solid as iron felt more and more hollow as he sped up. I'd bet it takes almost all his focus to maintain his accuracy at those speeds, leaving his reinforcement weak.

Furthermore, I'm certain his combo resets when he completely whiffs an attack. First, when I avoided the third strike that was meant to finish off our squad. I bet he had been in the midst of fierce fighting and had built up a crazy combo when he saw us moving to reposition. Second, when he tried to hit my dagger out of the air and missed. And third, just now when I avoid that thrust. Which means his combo is dead.

Bereft of the magical assault I had planned I step further forward and start throwing punches, as many as I can. He tries to swing his spear in an attempt to ward me off, but I circle around it and land a few more heavy blows to his face. My reinforced knuckles cut open his face, smearing blood across his visage and my hands.

Another swing of his spear brings the bladed point scarily close to my chest, so I back off my assault as he quickly regains his footing. A cut above his left eye is bleeding profusely, blinding it. His other eye stares at me as he takes his fighting stance again. Oddly enough the fire, the hatred I had seen in it before was gone. I can't tell what exactly is there that's replaced it, but the fact that he seems to have a cooler head after having his face beaten to a bloody pulp is concerning.

***

This boy. He's even younger than I am, yet he's so skilled. He has to be someone noteworthy, he has to be.

Orelio had joined this battle looking for the chance to make a noteworthy contribution so he could stand out. Yet the only opponents that had graced his path were fodder, soldiers barely able to use reinforcement. Still, he was happy he hadn't been assigned to the southern infantry. He had seen from afar how that outlying platoon had been all but obliterated by a small group of riders.

He had by chance seen a scouting squad moving away from the field in the forests around the field. Deciding the battle was just about theirs anyway, he broke off the troop he had been assigned to and pursued, figuring a scout squad would be worth at least a little more than another few infantrymen.

Orelio sped off the field and into the woods before anyone in his troop even had a chance to say a word. The man assigned to the rear of the scout squad had barely been paying attention, and he fell before even finishing his shout of alarm. Orelio's combo had surpassed 30, and at that speed piercing through a skull and a return motion took only a moment. His speed had carried his spear into and back out of the next man before he had time to turn.

Yet somehow, the one who looked most like a greenhorn, with a face that still retained a childlike resemblance, managed to avoid his lightning fast strike and break his combo. Furthermore, his speed in deploying anti-magic area was above what Orelio expected, surprising him even more. Still, if he was a member of a scout squad he likely wasn't truly exceptional.

When the boy interrupted his combo for the second time Orelio's annoyance reached its limit. That, and the fact he had fallen for that dagger trick like a clueless rookie, resetting his combo, pissed him off.

And yet, even amidst his frustration Orelio couldn't help but be amazed by this boy, no, this warrior's tenacity and adaptability.

He knows. He figured out the core of my projection and struck back with fangs I didn't think he had.

Orelio's focus was hazy at best, his arm and face were bleeding profusely, and he couldn't see out of one eye. But he had finally found one. A warrior who had to have at least some renown. Why they were shoved away in a scouting squad was beyond him, but it didn't matter.

Orelio formed his stance and leaped forward. His anger had burned away, leaving only the will, the desire to finally, finally achieve something.

No need to be hasty. No more mistakes, no more missed opportunities.

He swung his spear with careful precision, it didn't matter if the blow was blocked so long as it landed. He built up his speed with each blow, and with that speed came the might to annihilate any who stood in his path.

The boy grimaced as Orelio's vicious assault rained down on him. Orelio had to admit, the boy was one of the most skilled warriors he had ever met, able to deflect his killing thrusts with nothing but his bare hands.

But it didn't matter how skilled the opponent was. When faced with relentless, indomitable speed there was nothing they could do. Orelio felt satisfying resistance as his spear pierced through the body of his enemy, the boy unable to completely deflect his stab.

Finally, he falls!

Orelio's elation causes him to momentarily lose focus, and in the span of a breath, the boy brings down a fist and shatters the spear between them.

***

Fuck that hurts.

The spearman had finally lost his focus enough his weapon had been basically unreinforced. It just sucked that I had to get a hole in my stomach for that to happen.

Taking advantage of his momentary shock I jump backward. As I land I reach around behind my back and pull out the spear still lodged in me. The pain threatens to drown out the world, but I manage to stay conscious as I look down and see a trail of red branching from a hole in my shirt leak down, staining my pants.

Now what? Pretty sure there's nothing vital in that area, but I can't exactly fight very well with a hole in my stomach.

The spearman tosses away the broken remains of the splintered shaft and I do the same with my half, making sure to toss it far into the underbrush. He raises his fists and starts to approach.

Great, he's just raring to go.

I raise my own fists, ready to retaliate. If I was in good condition I'm pretty sure I could take him down pretty fast, but with this injury my hand-to-hand options are limited. For example, if I tried to wrestle him into a chokehold I'm pretty sure I would pass out from the pain of exerting my core with a hole in it.

A slugfest it is then.

Even just by watching him approach I can tell his stance isn't very refined. I make a note in the back of my mind to thank Arim for focussing so much on unarmed combat later if I survive.

As he tries to step into range I also step forward, throwing a jab with my left. He throws a wild right to try and counter, but I see it coming and slip around to hook a right of my own. I land a clean hit on his jaw and he stumbles backward.

As I try to step forward to pile it on I feel a fresh jolt of pain stop me in my tracks. When I regain my focus my opponent has already regained his feet. He spits out a glob of blood and readies himself to come at me again.

Come on man, can we just call it here already? We're both unarmed and this is more exhausting than it's worth.

He considers his stance before coming back in again, moving into some funky position that leaves me completely perplexed. Then he abandons it and bull rushes me. I try to sidestep but again the pain keeps me from moving how I would like, and he gets in a jab as I desperately defend.

Now he has the advantage, and he starts throwing punch after punch. I'm barely able to guard, and don't have any room to throw in a counter. Then I notice his punches start coming in faster and harder, and I realize what I had missed.

That weird stance he did! It's the same one he was doing with his spear, I just didn't realize it without the spear in his hands. It must be what he uses to initiate his projection!

I had been a fool to think his projection was simply a constant. Most high level applications of mana require either a chant and or a handsign or some similar motion to initiate them.

But still, this application of his projection is half assed. He's even less stable than he was with the spear.

The guy seems to be lost in his wild assault, barely able to control the trajectory of his punches. I lean in, taking a blow to my raised arm, and focus my reinforcement on my leg before kicking out. My kick strikes the inside of his knee, and his leg collapses out from under him. He stumbles forward, his next punch wildly missing.

I take the chance to turn and run, sprinting into the forest. I've got no clue where I'm going, having been completely turned around in our fight. I can't even hear the sounds of battle anymore, leaving me completely clueless as to where I'm going.

Honestly, if fleeing was possible, I probably would. But with this wound in my side, I'm well aware I only have a few moments before he catches up with me. I'm not sure why, but he seems very intent on taking my life. Maybe he blames our scout squad for well placed artillery or something? It would explain his anger earlier.

Regardless, what I'm really looking for is anything to change up this fight. Arim had said, 'If you find yourself at a disadvantage then do something to change the fight. There's no point continuing a losing battle, so do something, anything to change things up.'

And I had just found the thing needed.

***

Orelio caught up to the boy at a place he hadn't expected.

The boy stood before a cliff, one several dozen meters high at least. Below he could see the forest stretch out for leagues.

Has he hit a dead end, or is he setting a trap?

In truth, it didn't matter. Orelio wanted his head, and he knew the longer it took to claim it the more likely it was that reinforcements would show up.

So Orelio stalked up to the boy, circling around so they were both at the cliff edge, then dashed forward. His goal was to drag the boy from the edge, so he didn't have to climb down to claim his quarry. Contrary to his expectations, the boy also rushed forward, grimacing.

The boy leaned into his charge and grabbed one of Orelio's ankles. Orelio beat on the boy's back, using his fists, his elbow, anything. The boy grunted as Orelio landed a hit on his wound. Shrugging it all off the boy pivoted, pulling Orelio's leg out to the side, and yanking him off his feet.

With the might of reinforcement, the boy lifted and threw Orelio, who was a full head taller than him, off the cliff.

Orelio, realizing what was happening even before he went over the edge, bent his grabbed leg, pulling him closer to the boy. When the leg was released and Orelio started soaring through the air, he kicked his other leg up, catching the boy's shirt with his foot. Orelio's momentum dragged the boy with him through the air and off the cliff.

***

Albatos stepped out of the forest into a small clearing at the base of a cliff where two bodies lay in heaps.

Zeph had commanded him to go investigate when Miki's connection had suddenly been cut off. Albatos had protested, reasoning that Miki was a tier two sorcerer, and he wouldn't be defeated so easily. Zeph wouldn't hear it, and commanded him to go all the same, saying the battle was all but over at that point anyway.

And so Albatos was left with his frustrations as he went off to check on the AWOL scout squad. He brought a sword and musket as basic precaution, but didn't expect to need to use them.

He was surprised to find the bodies of the recruit and Miki, but was even more surprised that the little shit wasn't with them. Going a little further he had arrived in time to see Stein weathering a vicious assault then pierced through. Albatos had readied his musket when he saw the little shit break the spear off himself and act as though he would continue fighting.

That's a sorcerer he's facing, I'm sure of it. Hmmm. The fact he's survived this long is more than I had expected of him. Perhaps it would be better to wait and see if he pulls anything else out of his hat.

Albatos had never understood what Zeph saw in the kid, but faced with the battle before him, he started to see that the kid had much greater potential than he had realized. Still, when the both of them went over the edge of that cliff Albatos couldn't help but groan.

Zeph's gonna kill me if I just let that little shit die.

In the clearing below it was obvious the ex-spearman was still breathing at least. His anti-magic area hadn't receded even though he seemed barely conscious.

Albatos bent down to examine Stein and found that he was still breathing. By the time he stood back up, he saw the figure of Stein's opponent dashing away through the trees.

Those beastfolk sure do recover fast. He sighed. Guess I had better see to the brat's wounds, lest he die and I get blamed for it.