The day began like any other at Falmuth Military Academy. The crisp morning air buzzed with the energy of students heading to the training grounds, classrooms, and libraries. Yet, an undercurrent of tension rippled through the academy, as if something monumental was about to unfold.
Illiad could feel it too—a quiet hum in the air, a shift in the rhythm of life at the academy. He had learned to trust such instincts in his past life, and they rarely led him astray.
**
An Announcement to Stir the Pot
The day started like any other, with a crisp morning breeze that carried the faint scent of dew-drenched grass. The academy grounds buzzed with life as students hurried to their training grounds, yet there was a tension in the air that even I couldn’t ignore. Something was brewing.
I had learned to trust my instincts—they were honed by a lifetime of trials in this life and the one before it. That subtle hum in the air, that imperceptible shift in energy, usually heralded something important. And I was right.
By mid-morning, a summons rang out across the campus. Students were instructed to gather in the main training yard. The space, sprawling and lined with banners of the academy's emblem, quickly filled with students—nobles and commoners alike. I slipped into the crowd, positioning myself among my commoner classmates.
Lieutenant Garven stood on a raised wooden platform, his sharp eyes scanning the crowd. His commanding presence alone was enough to quiet the growing murmurs.
“Attention!” his voice boomed, cutting through the chatter. The murmurs ceased immediately.
Garven’s gaze swept over us, pausing momentarily as if weighing the worth of each student in his mind. Then, he spoke again, his tone firm and unyielding.
“As part of your growth as soldiers, leaders, and strategists, the academy has arranged a mock battle tournament. Participation is mandatory. You will compete as squads, and each squad will include a mix of nobles and commoners.”
The collective gasp was almost deafening. My own lips pressed into a thin line as I processed his words. A mix of nobles and commoners?
The logic was sound. This was a military academy; teamwork and unity were paramount in real warfare. But this wasn’t a battlefield—it was a school teetering on the edge of a social chasm. Forcing nobles and commoners to work together was bound to stir tensions.
Garven’s next words cemented the stakes. “This is not just an exercise in combat. It is a test of strategy, leadership, and adaptability. The squads will be announced this evening. Victory will be determined by capturing the enemy’s flag while defending your own. That is all. Dismissed.”
As the crowd began to disperse, whispers erupted around me. Some commoners seemed excited by the opportunity to prove themselves, while others looked uneasy. I could hear snide remarks from nearby nobles.
“Ridiculous. As if those peasants have anything to contribute.”
“Having to fight alongside them? It’s degrading.”
I ignored them, my focus narrowing to the implications of the event. A mock battle was an excellent opportunity to sharpen my skills and observe the capabilities of others. But more than that, it was a stage where alliances and rivalries would be forged.
“Hey, Illiad.”
I turned to see Lorian falling into step beside me, his usual carefree smirk firmly in place. “A mock battle, huh? I bet you’re already planning how to crush the competition.”
I chuckled softly. “Something like that.”
“Think we’ll end up on the same squad?” he asked, his tone light but his gaze sharp.
“I wouldn’t mind,” I replied honestly. “But whoever we’re paired with, we’ll need to keep things together. This... arrangement is going to rub some people the wrong way.”
Lorian shrugged. “Let them rub. It’ll be fun to see some nobles squirm.”
I didn’t respond, though I couldn’t help but agree. The idea of nobles being forced to cooperate with the very people they looked down on was undeniably satisfying. But satisfaction wasn’t my goal. This was a game, and every move mattered.
As Lorian wandered off, likely to scout the competition, I made my way back to the dorms, my mind already working through strategies. A mock battle was one thing, but the true battle—the one that lingered in the shadows of my past and future—was far more complex.
The squads would be revealed soon, and with them, new challenges. I intended to make the most of it. This was more than just a test—it was a chance to gather tools and allies for the war I was preparing to wage.
And I didn’t intend to waste a single moment.
**
Drawing the Teams
The evening came quicker than expected. By the time the bell rang, signaling the end of our lessons, the tension that had simmered since morning had reached its peak. The announcement of the squads for the mock battle would be made at the central assembly hall.
The hall, usually a quiet space for lectures and ceremonies, was now packed with students. Noble and commoner alike filled the seats, their voices creating a chaotic symphony of anticipation. I stood at the back, arms crossed, observing. Lorian was beside me, leaning casually against the wall with an amused glint in his eyes.
“Excited?” he asked, nudging me with his elbow.
“Not the word I’d use,” I replied evenly. “Curious, maybe.”
Lorian chuckled. “Curious about who you’ll get stuck babysitting?”
I allowed myself a small smirk. “Something like that.”
Lieutenant Garven entered the hall with his usual authoritative stride, accompanied by two junior officers carrying a large board covered by a velvet cloth. The room instantly fell silent.
Garven wasted no time. “The squads for the mock battle have been decided. As I explained earlier, each team consists of a mix of nobles and commoners. These teams are designed to test not only your individual skills but your ability to work as a unit despite your differences.”
His sharp gaze swept the room, lingering briefly on the clusters of nobles and commoners. “Your ability to overcome those differences will determine your success—not just in this tournament, but in your future roles as soldiers and leaders.”
With that, he nodded to the officers, who unveiled the board. The names of the squads were written in bold letters, each accompanied by the list of assigned students.
The room buzzed with whispers as students scanned the board. I stepped forward, my eyes quickly scanning the lists. My name stood out near the middle of Squad Five:
Squad Five:
* Illiad
* Lorian
* Erynd Hale (Noble)
* Maris Teyl (Noble)
* Gareth Fens (Commoner)
I frowned slightly. I didn’t recognize most of the names except for Lorian’s, but I caught snippets of conversation from nearby students.
“Erynd Hale... isn’t he the youngest son of Count Hale?”
“Maris Teyl? She’s from that merchant-noble house, isn’t she? Bit of a temper, I hear.”
“Gareth Fens? He’s from the outer provinces—a bit rough around the edges but tough.”
Lorian leaned over my shoulder, reading the names with a low whistle. “Looks like we’ve got an interesting mix. Think the nobles will actually listen to us?”
I met his gaze and shrugged. “If they want to win, they’ll have to.”
He laughed, clapping me on the shoulder. “Spoken like a man with a plan already brewing. Let’s hope they’re smart enough to follow orders.”
As students began to form into their squads, I made my way to our designated meeting spot. Erynd Hale and Maris Teyl were already there, standing a bit apart from each other. Erynd was tall and slender, his posture screaming arrogance even as he studied his surroundings with calculating eyes. Maris, shorter and stockier, had a sharp jawline and an expression that looked like she was ready to bite anyone who dared speak to her.
Gareth arrived moments later—a burly youth with calloused hands and a no-nonsense demeanor. He gave me a curt nod, his expression neutral but his eyes wary as they flickered between the nobles.
“Well,” Lorian said as he joined us, “this looks like the beginning of a beautiful partnership.”
Maris scoffed. “Partnership? Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Just stay out of my way, and we won’t have any problems.”
Erynd smirked. “Charming as ever, Maris. Let’s just hope these commoners don’t drag us down.”
I felt Lorian tense beside me, but I placed a calming hand on his arm. “We’re here to win, not squabble,” I said, my tone firm but calm. My eyes locked on Erynd’s, making sure he understood I wouldn’t tolerate any nonsense.
To his credit, Erynd didn’t back down, but he also didn’t escalate. “Fine,” he said with a dismissive wave. “Let’s hear what you’ve got, then.”
The challenge in his tone was clear, but I didn’t rise to it. Instead, I glanced at the group as a whole. “We’ll need to figure out our strengths and weaknesses before we can plan anything. Sparring tomorrow should give us a better idea of what we’re working with.”
Maris crossed her arms, looking unimpressed. “And who put you in charge?”
“No one,” I replied evenly. “But if you’ve got a better idea, I’m all ears.”
Her lips pressed into a thin line, but she didn’t argue further.
Erynd rolled his eyes. “Let’s get this over with. I have better things to do.”
The group dispersed shortly after, each member heading their separate ways. As Lorian and I walked back to the dorms, he let out a low whistle.
“Looks like we’ve got our work cut out for us,” he said.
I nodded, my mind already racing with strategies. The nobles’ disdain was predictable, but if I played this right, their pride could be turned into an asset. The commoners, on the other hand, would need encouragement and a sense of purpose.
“Work cut out for us,” I repeated, a small smile tugging at my lips. “But it’s nothing we can’t handle.”
The mock battle hadn’t even started, yet the real battle—of personalities, egos, and alliances—was already underway.
**
Tensions Run High
The hallways buzzed with anticipation the next day, the announcement of the mock battle teams still fresh on everyone’s minds. Tensions hung thick in the air, a palpable mix of excitement and unease. I walked toward the training grounds, weaving through the chattering clusters of students.
Everywhere, I could hear whispers and rumors.
“Did you hear? Squad Three has two noble heirs—practically a guaranteed win.”
“Yeah, but Squad Eight’s commoners have been tearing it up in sparring lately. They might surprise us.”
“Ha, commoners surprising anyone? They’ll just trip over themselves trying to keep up.”
I ignored the jibes, my focus set firmly ahead. Mock battles like this were more than just practice—they were a stage for proving oneself. For someone like me, it was an opportunity to test the waters and gauge the competition.
When I arrived at the training grounds, the tension was even more tangible. Squads were scattered across the open field, each group sizing up their teammates and rivals alike. My eyes immediately found Squad Five, gathered awkwardly near the edge of the grounds.
Erynd Hale stood with his arms crossed, a picture of noble arrogance as he surveyed the others with barely concealed disdain. Maris Teyl was pacing back and forth, muttering something under her breath, while Gareth Fens sat on a nearby bench, sharpening a knife with deliberate, focused strokes. Lorian, ever the social butterfly, was chatting animatedly with Gareth, though I could tell his efforts weren’t landing well.
I approached the group, and Lorian’s face lit up when he saw me.
“There he is—our fearless strategist!” he announced with mock grandeur, earning an unimpressed snort from Maris.
“Let’s get one thing straight,” she said, rounding on me the moment I joined them. “Just because you’re playing the calm, collected leader doesn’t mean we’re going to fall in line. I fight how I fight. You’d do well to remember that.”
Her tone was sharp, but her eyes betrayed a hint of insecurity. She wasn’t just challenging me—she was testing me.
“Noted,” I said evenly, holding her gaze. “But if we’re going to win this, we’ll need to fight smarter, not just harder.”
Erynd chuckled, a low, condescending sound. “And what makes you so sure we’ll win at all? Have you looked at the other squads? We’re hardly the cream of the crop.”
“Victory doesn’t always go to the strongest team,” I replied calmly. “It goes to the team that works together.”
“Big words for someone who’s barely been here a month,” Erynd shot back, his smirk widening.
“Big words, but true,” Lorian interjected before I could respond. “And honestly, I’d rather take my chances with someone who has a plan than someone who just swings their sword around and hopes for the best.”
Erynd’s smirk faltered, but before he could retort, Gareth spoke up.
“Enough,” he said gruffly, sheathing his knife. “We’ve got a job to do. Let’s just get on with it.”
I nodded, grateful for the intervention. “Agreed. We’ll start with some basic drills to get a feel for each other’s strengths and weaknesses. Once we’ve got that, we can work on strategy.”
Maris rolled her eyes but didn’t object further. Erynd sighed dramatically, muttering something about a waste of time, but he stayed put.
The drills started off rough. Erynd refused to take direction, Maris was overly aggressive, and Gareth, though skilled, was clearly frustrated by the nobles’ attitudes. Lorian, bless him, tried to keep things light, but even his jokes couldn’t cut through the mounting tension.
It wasn’t until the sparring pairs rotated that things began to shift. I paired up with Maris, who attacked with a ferocity that bordered on reckless. She clearly had something to prove, and while her technique was solid, her emotions made her movements predictable.
After deflecting another of her wild swings, I saw an opening and stepped in, pinning her blade with mine.
“Control,” I said, meeting her glare with a calm expression. “You’re strong, but strength without control is just wasted effort.”
For a moment, I thought she’d snap back with another sharp remark, but instead, she pulled back, her expression thoughtful.
By the end of the drills, there was still plenty of tension, but at least it felt more focused. The team was beginning to see each other as partners rather than obstacles.
As we gathered to discuss the next steps, I caught Erynd watching me with a strange expression—half skeptical, half... curious? It was hard to tell.
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
“You’re not terrible,” he admitted grudgingly as we wrapped up. “For a commoner.”
It wasn’t exactly high praise, but it was a start.
As we left the training grounds, Lorian fell into step beside me, grinning as usual.
“Well, that wasn’t a complete disaster,” he said cheerfully. “Think they’ll actually listen to you tomorrow?”
“They will,” I replied with quiet certainty. “They just don’t know it yet.”
The mock battle was still days away, but the real battle—to earn their trust, to unify this ragtag squad—was already well underway. And I intended to win.
**
Into the Fray
The day of the mock battle arrived under a sky painted with the soft glow of early morning. The air was crisp, heavy with the scent of dew and the faint tang of anticipation. Students were gathered in the massive training field that stretched out like an arena, the boundaries marked by tall wooden posts and banners fluttering in the breeze. Each squad stood in formation, their expressions ranging from confident smirks to anxious frowns.
Squad Five, my squad, was no different.
We stood near the edge of the field, awaiting the signal to begin. Gareth adjusted the straps of his armor with meticulous precision, his stoic face giving nothing away. Maris, on the other hand, was practically vibrating with energy, her hands gripping her sword hilt so tightly her knuckles turned white. Erynd stood slightly apart, his casual stance and bored expression making it clear he thought this exercise was beneath him.
And then there was Lorian, who, despite the tension, had the audacity to grin like he was about to take a stroll through the market.
“Big day,” he said, nudging me lightly with his elbow. “You nervous?”
“Not really,” I replied, scanning the field. “Just focused.”
Lorian chuckled. “Focused is good. Focused wins battles.”
I nodded, my gaze lingering on the other squads. Some had already begun discussing their strategies, their leaders gesturing animatedly. Others stood in tense silence, their plans likely kept close to their chests.
Across the field, I spotted Squad Three—one of the favorites to win, with their mix of skilled noble heirs and strong commoners. Their leader, a tall, broad-shouldered noble named Drelan, caught my eye and smirked. It wasn’t a friendly smirk.
I turned my attention back to our team. “Alright, listen up,” I said, keeping my voice steady but firm. “We’ve gone over the plan, but let’s review one more time. We stick together, we communicate, and we adapt. If things go south, don’t panic—regroup and follow my lead. Understood?”
Maris grunted her acknowledgment, still bouncing slightly on the balls of her feet. Gareth gave a sharp nod. Erynd rolled his eyes but didn’t argue, and Lorian, as always, offered a cheerful, “Got it!”
The horn sounded, its deep, resonant note cutting through the murmurs and chatter. The mock battle had begun.
We moved swiftly, keeping to the edges of the battlefield as planned. Our objective was simple: outlast and outwit the other squads. Direct confrontation would be a last resort.
“Keep your eyes peeled,” I said, my hand resting lightly on the hilt of my sword. “We don’t want to get caught off guard.”
Maris scoffed. “If anyone comes at us, they’ll regret it.”
“That’s the spirit,” Lorian quipped. “But maybe let’s not advertise our position just yet, hmm?”
The first clash wasn’t far from our position—a sharp clang of steel against steel, followed by shouts and the dull thud of boots on the ground. We paused, crouching low behind a cluster of large rocks.
“It’s Squad Two,” Gareth murmured, his eyes narrowed as he observed the skirmish. “Looks like they’re up against Squad Eight.”
“We let them wear each other out,” I said quietly. “Then we move.”
The others nodded, though I could see Maris struggling to hold herself back. The fight ended quickly, Squad Eight emerging victorious but clearly winded.
“Now,” I whispered.
We struck fast, catching them off guard as they tried to regroup. Gareth and Maris led the charge, their weapons clashing with Squad Eight’s front line. Lorian darted around the edges, using his speed to sow chaos among their formation. I stayed slightly back, directing our movements and stepping in where needed to reinforce weak points.
Erynd, to my surprise, proved effective with a bow, picking off their remaining fighters from a distance.
The fight was over in minutes. We left Squad Eight incapacitated but not injured—a rule strictly enforced by the instructors.
“Well, that wasn’t so bad,” Lorian said, slightly out of breath but still grinning.
“Don’t get comfortable,” I replied, scanning the horizon. “This was just the first wave.”
The rest of the day was a blur of movement, strategy, and combat. We faced two more squads, each more challenging than the last. By the time the sun dipped low in the sky, casting long shadows across the battlefield, only three squads remained: ours, Squad Three, and Squad Four.
We regrouped near a cluster of trees, using the brief lull to catch our breath and reassess.
“Squad Four is north of here,” Gareth reported, wiping sweat from his brow. “They’re holding position near the ridge.”
“And Squad Three?” I asked.
“Last I saw, they were heading west,” he said.
“They’ll come for us first,” Maris said confidently. “They’ll want to pick off the weakest team before taking on Squad Four.”
“We’re not the weakest,” I said, a touch sharper than intended. “And if they come for us, we’ll be ready.”
Erynd snorted. “Ready to get crushed, maybe.”
“Enough,” I said firmly, cutting off the brewing argument. “We’ve made it this far because we worked together. That doesn’t change now.”
The others fell silent, and I took a deep breath, steadying myself. The final phase was about to begin, and I would make sure Squad Five was ready for whatever came next.
This mock battle was more than a test of skill—it was a glimpse of the larger battles that lay ahead. Battles where the stakes would be far higher.
And I would not falter.
**
Betrayal in the Ranks
The tension in the air was palpable as we moved toward the forest's edge, our squad keeping low and quiet. The battlefield had grown eerily silent after hours of clashes and skirmishes. I could feel the weight of the day pressing down on us, but I kept my head clear. We were close—too close to victory to let fatigue cloud our judgment.
Yet, a sense of unease lingered.
Erynd lagged behind slightly, his movements deliberate, but his gaze flicked around as if he wasn’t entirely with us. His casual disdain had always grated on me, but now it felt... different. Something about the way he held himself, too relaxed for the situation, put me on edge.
“Erynd,” I called back, keeping my voice steady. “You’re falling behind.”
“I’m here,” he replied, his tone laced with indifference.
Lorian, ahead of me, glanced over his shoulder and mouthed, Something’s off. I nodded subtly.
We reached a small clearing surrounded by dense trees, an ideal spot to regroup and assess our next move. Gareth knelt beside me, sketching a quick map of the area into the dirt.
“Squad Three was heading west,” he said, his voice low. “If we angle north, we might avoid them and catch Squad Four off guard.”
Maris wiped sweat from her brow, her breathing heavy but steady. “I say we go straight through and face Squad Three head-on. They’re bound to find us anyway.”
“Reckless,” I said. “We’d be fighting uphill against a stronger squad.”
“Or we could flank them while they’re busy with Squad Four,” Lorian suggested, crouching beside Gareth. “It’s risky, but it could work.”
I considered the options, weighing our odds. Before I could respond, Erynd broke his silence.
“Why bother?” he said, leaning casually against a tree. “It’s not like we’re going to win anyway.”
The others froze, his words hanging in the air like a bitter chill.
“What are you talking about?” Maris snapped, her voice brimming with anger.
Erynd shrugged. “Face it. Squad Three is leagues ahead of us. You think a bunch of commoners like us can take them down? Don’t kid yourselves.”
“We’ve made it this far,” Gareth said, his tone sharp. “Because we worked together.”
Erynd chuckled darkly. “Worked together? Please. You’re all just fodder for the nobles’ amusement. That’s all this is—a game rigged against us from the start.”
I stood slowly, keeping my eyes on him. “What’s your point, Erynd?”
He smirked, a cruel glint in his eyes. “My point is, I’m done playing along.”
The realization hit me like a blow to the chest. My hand instinctively moved to the hilt of my sword.
“You sold us out,” I said, my voice low and steady.
Erynd clapped mockingly. “Congratulations. Took you long enough to figure it out.”
Maris lunged toward him, but I held out an arm to stop her. “Don’t,” I said firmly.
“Why?” Gareth demanded. “Why betray your own squad?”
Erynd pushed off the tree, his smirk widening. “Because I’m not an idiot. I made a deal with Squad Three. I help them take you out, and they let me walk away unscathed.”
“You coward,” Maris spat.
“Coward? No, I’m just smart enough to know when I’m outmatched,” Erynd shot back.
“Smart enough to sell your soul for scraps,” Lorian said, his voice uncharacteristically cold.
Erynd sneered. “Call it whatever you want. I don’t care. I’m done with this charade.”
I stepped forward, my grip tightening on my sword. “You think Squad Three will honor their deal? You think they’ll respect you after this?”
His confidence faltered for a fraction of a second, but he quickly masked it with defiance.
“They don’t have to respect me,” he said. “I just have to survive.”
The sound of footsteps and rustling leaves reached us before I could respond. A group of figures emerged from the treeline—Squad Three, their leader Drelan at the front, his smug expression making my blood boil.
“Right on time,” Drelan said, his voice dripping with condescension. “Good work, Erynd. You’ve played your part well.”
Erynd stepped toward them, but Drelan raised a hand, stopping him.
“Not so fast,” Drelan said, his smile turning cruel. “We’ll deal with them first. Then we’ll talk about your reward.”
Erynd froze, the betrayal dawning on him too late. He turned back to us, his expression a mix of fear and desperation.
“Wait, you said—”
“Never trust a snake,” I said coldly, drawing my sword.
Drelan laughed. “Oh, this just keeps getting better. What do you plan to do, commoner? Fight us all?”
I glanced at my squad, each of them ready despite the odds. Maris’s grip on her weapon was ironclad, Gareth’s jaw set with determination, and Lorian’s usual grin was replaced with a sharp, focused intensity.
“We fight,” I said simply.
Drelan’s smile faltered, just slightly.
“On my mark,” I whispered to my squad.
The forest seemed to hold its breath as we prepared for the inevitable clash. Betrayal may have shaken us, but it would not break us. Not today.
**
The Turning Point
The battle erupted in a blur of chaos and steel, but my mind was sharp, cutting through the noise like a blade. Every strike, every movement of my squad felt both fragile and powerful, as though we were balancing on the edge of a knife. Squad Three had the advantage in numbers, discipline, and resources. We had only our resolve—and perhaps the element of desperation.
Erynd stood frozen near the treeline, caught between the mess he had created and the wolves he had foolishly trusted. I didn’t spare him a second glance. My focus was on Drelan, Squad Three’s leader, who stood arrogantly at the back of his squad, barking orders like a general on a battlefield.
“Maris, flank left!” I called out, deflecting an overhead strike from one of their swordsmen. “Gareth, hold the center with me. Lorian, cover the rear!”
Drelan’s forces advanced like a tide, their movements synchronized and unrelenting. They fought with practiced efficiency, but they underestimated us. They thought we were just commoners, unworthy of respect. That was their first mistake.
Gareth fought at my side, his shield raised to block incoming blows while I parried and countered. His face was a mask of focus, sweat trickling down his brow. “They’re pushing too hard,” he muttered through gritted teeth.
“Let them,” I replied. “They’ll overextend.”
Maris darted to the left, her spear moving with precision as she disrupted their formation. Her strikes were wild but effective, forcing their archers to reposition. Meanwhile, Lorian’s agility shone as he outmaneuvered their rear guard, darting in and out like a shadow, striking where they least expected.
Still, the weight of their numbers bore down on us. My muscles screamed with every swing of my sword, and I could feel the drain of stamina creeping in.
Drelan’s voice cut through the din. “Push harder! They’re just a few desperate commoners. Crush them!”
The arrogance in his tone sparked something deep within me—a fire I had honed over two lifetimes.
I locked eyes with him across the battlefield, his smug expression a taunt I couldn’t ignore. He was the kind of noble who believed himself untouchable, untarnished by struggle or sacrifice. In that moment, I decided to shatter his delusion.
“Fall back!” I called to my squad, feigning retreat.
They didn’t question me. They moved as one, pulling back into the dense cover of the trees. Squad Three hesitated, their formation faltering as they tried to adjust to our sudden maneuver.
“Cowards,” Drelan sneered. “After them!”
That was their second mistake.
As they pursued us into the forest, their cohesion began to crumble. Their tight formation, so effective in open combat, became a liability in the narrow confines of the trees. I signaled to Maris and Lorian, and they vanished into the shadows.
We struck like wolves, picking off stragglers one by one. Maris swept through their archers with ruthless efficiency, her spear finding its mark with unerring precision. Lorian’s daggers flashed in the dim light, his movements too quick for their guards to counter.
Gareth and I held the center, engaging their frontline fighters head-on. I could see the doubt creeping into their eyes—the cracks forming in their confidence.
Drelan finally realized his mistake. “Regroup!” he shouted, his voice tinged with frustration.
But it was too late.
Erynd, who had been hovering near the treeline, saw his chance to redeem himself. Or perhaps he was just desperate to survive. He charged into the fray, targeting one of Squad Three’s exposed flankers. His strike was clumsy but effective, catching the swordsman off guard and knocking him to the ground.
The chaos of his sudden betrayal sent ripples through Squad Three.
Drelan turned on Erynd, his face contorted with fury. “You pathetic worm! You dare turn on us?”
Erynd didn’t answer. He swung his blade again, narrowly missing Drelan but forcing him to retreat a step. It was enough to break their momentum.
“Now!” I shouted.
We pressed the advantage, driving Squad Three back toward the clearing. The once-confident nobles were now scrambling to defend themselves, their discipline unraveling with every passing second.
Drelan fought with skill, but his rage made him sloppy. I saw the opening and took it, my blade slashing through his guard. He stumbled, his sword falling from his hand as he crashed to the ground.
I stood over him, my weapon poised for a final strike. His eyes widened, and for the first time, I saw fear in them.
“It’s over,” I said coldly.
He didn’t respond, his pride silencing him more effectively than any blow could.
The rest of Squad Three surrendered soon after, their morale shattered. The forest was quiet again, save for the sound of heavy breathing and the occasional groan of the injured.
Maris approached, her spear still in hand. “We won,” she said, disbelief and pride mingling in her voice.
I looked around at my squad, battered but standing tall. “No,” I said quietly. “We survived. But we’ll remember this victory.”
Lorian appeared beside me, a sly grin returning to his face. “You’ve got a knack for this, Illiad. Remind me never to bet against you.”
I gave a small nod, my gaze drifting back to Drelan. His defeat wasn’t just a personal triumph—it was proof that even the entitled, the untouchable, could bleed.
And in the grander scheme of my plans, that lesson would prove invaluable.
**
Aftermath
The clearing was eerily silent in the wake of the battle. The adrenaline coursing through my veins was slowly replaced by exhaustion, but I forced myself to remain upright. The others were catching their breath, leaning on their weapons or sitting against the trees. The air was thick with the smell of sweat, crushed foliage, and the faint tang of blood.
I stood amidst it all, scanning the field. Squad Three’s once-pristine uniforms were torn and dirtied, their smug expressions replaced with weariness and humiliation. Some clutched minor injuries, while others sat in stunned silence, unwilling to meet anyone’s gaze.
My own squad—Squad Five—wasn’t unscathed. Gareth was nursing a cut on his arm, and Maris’s normally sharp movements had slowed, her exhaustion showing. Lorian, despite his agility, had a bruise forming on his cheek. Yet their spirits were high; I could see it in their eyes. Victory was a rare taste for commoners in this academy, and today, we had savored it.
Erynd was off to the side, his shoulders slumped and his expression unreadable. His betrayal had turned the tide in our favor, but I doubted anyone had truly forgiven him. Trust, once broken, was a fragile thing.
Drelan remained on his knees where I had left him, his pride shattered as completely as his sword. His hands clenched into fists, but he didn’t dare look up at me. For all his earlier bravado, he had been humbled, and I made sure to memorize the moment. He represented everything I despised about noble arrogance—a belief that power and birthright were unassailable.
But today, I had proven otherwise.
“Squad Three is defeated,” I said, my voice cutting through the stillness. “If any of you still wish to fight, step forward now.”
No one moved.
“Thought so,” I muttered under my breath.
I turned to my squad, forcing a steadying breath. “We’ll return to camp. Help the injured and gather your strength. This isn’t the end.”
Gareth nodded, his face set with determination despite his injury. Maris offered a faint smile, while Lorian gave me a mock salute, his grin returning as if nothing had happened.
As we prepared to leave, Lieutenant Garven emerged from the treeline, flanked by two other instructors. His eyes swept over the clearing, taking in the disarray and the battered squads. His expression remained neutral, but there was an intensity in his gaze that made my skin prickle.
“Well,” he said, his voice calm but sharp. “It seems Squad Five has emerged victorious.”
Garven’s tone held no praise, but there was no mistaking the flicker of approval in his eyes as he glanced at me. He stepped closer, his boots crunching on the ground, and stopped in front of Drelan.
“You’ve brought shame to your squad, Drelan,” Garven said, his voice cold. “You were given the advantage, yet you allowed arrogance to blind you.”
Drelan’s face turned red, but he didn’t respond.
The lieutenant turned to me. “And you, Illiad. A commendable display of strategy and leadership.”
I met his gaze, careful to keep my expression neutral. Praise in this academy was often a double-edged sword, and I wasn’t about to let it put a target on my back. “Thank you, sir.”
His sharp eyes lingered on me for a moment longer before he addressed the entire group. “This exercise was not just about victory or defeat. It was a test of your ability to think, adapt, and lead under pressure. Some of you rose to the occasion. Others... did not.”
He let the words hang in the air, the weight of his judgment pressing down on everyone.
“Return to camp,” Garven continued. “Medical personnel will attend to your injuries. And remember this day—it won’t be the last time you face challenges of this nature.”
With that, he turned and strode back into the forest, his presence leaving an unspoken command to obey.
As we made our way back, I walked at the front, my thoughts racing despite the ache in my limbs. The victory had been ours, but it wasn’t without cost. Erynd’s betrayal lingered in my mind. He had acted in desperation, but his choices had jeopardized us all.
Lorian caught up to me, his usual grin slightly subdued. “So,” he said, his tone light but probing, “what’s the plan now, fearless leader?”
I glanced at him, then looked ahead. “We recover. And we prepare for whatever comes next.”
Lorian chuckled softly. “Always so serious. You know, you could at least enjoy the moment.”
I didn’t reply. My mind was already elsewhere—on the bigger picture, on the games being played in this academy and beyond.
This wasn’t just about proving myself. It was about laying the foundation for something greater. And today was just the beginning.
As we approached the camp, the cheers of commoner students reached our ears, their voices carrying a mix of pride and disbelief. For once, the underdogs had triumphed, and I allowed myself a small, fleeting smile.
Let them celebrate. I would focus on what came next.