First day on the battlefield 2

–HORN!

As the horn rang, the enemy appeared right before us, with their bodies rushing. The wave came, some of them on their horses and some of them on the barefoot.

My breath came in short, rapid gasps, the fear threatening to overwhelm me. But I forced myself to remember my training, to steady my nerves.

And then, they were upon us.

The Arcanis soldiers surged forward, their weapons gleaming in the morning light. They crashed against our defenses with a ferocity that took my breath away. The clash of steel and the cries of the wounded filled the air, a brutal symphony of war.

CLANK!

I thrust my spear forward, the impact jarring my arms. The first enemy fell with his arm injured and retreated, but there were more, so many more. They pushed against us relentlessly, their numbers seeming endless.

"Hold the line!" Vance shouted, his voice cutting through the chaos. "Do not let them break through!"

I fought with everything I had, my training guiding my movements.

Each thrust, each parry, was a struggle for survival. The enemy was relentless, their attacks fierce and unyielding.

But at some point, the man next to me fell, a spear piercing his chest.

"Kurghk-!"

Blood spilled from his chest as the pear pierced right there.

–THUD!

And then he fell to the ground.

I barely had time to register his fall before the enemy was upon me.

'Come, you bastard.'

It was a guy with a slightly bulky body. The spear that he was holding in his hand was shaking, most likely just like mine.

–STAB!

He advanced with a quick stab, but his movements were clumsy. It made me remember the moments when we were in the training parts.

Most of the trainees there were also like this. Even if they had trained, they were not that good at spearing.

CLANK!

I managed to fend off the attack, the adrenaline coursing through my veins, giving me a strength I didn't know I possessed. Or maybe it was something different I did not know.

–SWOOSH!

The enemy thrust his spear again, this time with more force. The spearhead glinted in the light, aimed straight at my chest. My muscles ached, and my body screamed in protest, but I gritted my teeth and focused on my training.

'Stay calm, stay focused. Remember the basics.'

I sidestepped, narrowly avoiding the spear's deadly point. My heart raced, pounding against my ribs as I countered with a quick jab of spear.

SLASH!  

My spear found its mark, slicing across the enemy's arm. However, it was not that deep.

At that moment, when my spear went down and cut his body, I realized that my strength was not sufficient to slash through his arm completely.

"AAARGHK!"

He hissed in pain, stumbling back. I could see the confusion in his eyes, the disbelief that a weak, young kid could hold his own against him. But there was no time for self-congratulation. The battle around us was a maelstrom of chaos and violence, and I had to stay alert.

The enemy soldier recovered, his eyes narrowing with anger. He advanced again, his movements aggressive, but at the same time, I could see what he aimed to do.

SWOOSH!

I parried his strike, feeling the jarring impact reverberate through my arms. Each clash of metal on metal sent shocks up my limbs, but I held firm.

I twisted my body, using the momentum to bring my spear around in a sweeping arc.

It was a move I had practiced countless times, a simple yet effective strike. Something that I found out when I was practicing our family art, [Serpent Flame Art] and [Thorne Style]. I felt a lot more comfortable when I was moving like this.

SLASH!

The enemy tried to block, but he was too slow. My spearhead cut across his chest, tearing through fabric and flesh.

He gasped, blood seeping from the wound. His grip on his spear faltered, and he stumbled.

'Do it now.'

I raised my spear to finish the enemy off, ready to end this fight. But as I looked into his eyes, I saw something that stopped me cold.

His eyes were wide with fear, and he was looking directly at me. It was the first time I truly realized what I was about to do.

I was about to take someone's life.

Life.

It is a simple yet profound concept.

For some, it's a routine, and for others, it's the meaning.

What is it for me?

What happens to him if I were to push this spear? After he dies?

'…..That….'

My spear shook in my hands, and I hesitated. The chaos of the battlefield faded for a moment, and all I could see was the terrified expression of the man before me.

I had trained for this, prepared for it, but the reality was far different from what I had imagined.

Suddenly, a movement caught my eye from the side. An enemy soldier was charging at me, his spear aimed at my unprotected side. My eyes widened in fear, my body frozen in place as I sensed the impending strike.

"KID!" a voice shouted from my right. It was one of the older recruits who had given me advice earlier. He moved swiftly, fending off the spear with his own and then stabbing the attacker in one fluid motion. The enemy fell, clutching his wound.

"Don't hesitate." the older recruit said while looking at me.

"Or you will die."

His words rang in my ears, resonating deeply within me. I locked eyes with the enemy before me, who had now recovered enough to launch another attack. "Don't hesitate."

I whispered to myself, my resolve hardening.

–SWOOSH!

The enemy thrust his spear towards me, but this time I was ready. I tilted my head slightly, evading the strike by a narrow margin.

My eyes were still wide. Something weird was happening in my head as if something was changing.

"Don't hesitate."

I must not hesitate.

But for what reason?

That soldier on my right side had now just collapsed. I did not know him, his name, nothing. Why was he fighting for?

Was it really important to justify taking a life?

"Or I am going to die. Don't hesitate, Lucavion. Don't hesitate. Don't stop."

No, in the first place, what is justified?

Have I not been exiled to this place because of something I did not do? Was I not in this situation because of an injustice?

Then, here, why was I thinking about justifying myself?

Was there a need for that?

"Yeah. It does not matter. I am going to live through this. No matter what."

If this is what I need to do so that I can live, then so be it. I am going to play in the same field.

I tightened my grip on the spear, feeling the wood and metal against my calloused hands. The enemy soldier, now more cautious, advanced again.

"Sterf, jou klein rot!"

I heard him shout something, but it was in a different language. Though that was not that important.

SLASH!

This time, I was prepared. As he lunged, I sidestepped and brought my spear down in a swift arc, the tip slicing through his unprotected side.

He gasped, stumbling as blood poured from the wound. There was no time for mercy or doubt. I thrust the spear forward, driving it into his chest.

STAB!

His eyes widened in shock and pain before he collapsed to the ground, lifeless.

THUD!

The realization hit me like a punch to the gut. I had taken a life.

'He is dead.'

The weight of it threatened to overwhelm me, but I pushed it aside. There was no room for hesitation here. Not if I wanted to survive.

The battlefield around me was a blur of motion and noise. I saw my comrades fighting desperately, holding the line against the relentless enemy. The older recruit who had saved me was engaged in another fierce battle, his movements precise and deadly despite his exhaustion.

"Soldier Lucavion!" someone shouted, drawing my attention. It was Sergeant Vance, his stern face marked with the grime and blood of combat. "Stay in formation! Hold the line!"

I nodded, falling back into place beside my fellow soldiers. The fear was still there, gnawing at the edges of my resolve, but it was tempered by a new, fierce determination. I had made a choice. I would fight. I would survive.

The enemy came at us again, their numbers seemingly endless. I gripped my spear tightly, ready to face them. The older recruit's words echoed in my mind. "Don't hesitate."

With a deep breath, I steadied myself and prepared for the next onslaught. The battle was far from over, but I knew now that I could face it. I could fight, and I could survive. No matter what it took, I would live through this.

As the enemy closed in, I raised my spear and braced for the impact. The world narrowed to the immediate threats before me, every movement and decision driven by the primal will to survive.

And as the chaos of battle raged on, I found within myself a newfound strength forged in the crucible of combat.

I would not hesitate. Not anymore.

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