Chapter 16: Baptism by Fire

The sharp ring of the war horn echoed through the dawn, cutting the quiet stillness like a blade. Leonis stood at the edge of the camp, his eyes scanning the eastern horizon where the goblin and orc raiders had been spotted the night before. He had been summoned for this—the real test, the first time he would face enemies in the flesh.

He flexed his fingers, feeling the mana hum beneath his skin. His body still tingled from his encounter with the shard, but he shoved those thoughts aside. This was not the time for doubt. The royal armor he wore gleamed under the rising sun, the emerald and silver hues giving him an almost ethereal presence.

A familiar voice called out from behind him. "Your Highness, the troops are ready."

Leonis turned to face the royal guard captain, a grizzled veteran with scars that told tales of countless battles. Behind the captain stood a battalion of royal soldiers, all clad in gleaming armor and armed with swords, spears, and shields.

He took a deep breath, feeling the weight of responsibility pressing down on him. This was no training session with dummies. Real lives were at stake, and for the first time, he was about to test the skills he had honed in the last few weeks.

"Move the battalion into formation. We march in ten minutes," Leonis commanded, his voice steady. Inside, though, his heart pounded. He had never led soldiers before, let alone into battle.

The captain nodded and began shouting orders, the men quickly moving into position. Leonis's eyes shifted to the horizon again. In the distance, faint clouds of dust signaled the approaching enemy forces. Orcs and goblins—creatures of chaos and bloodlust. Though small in number compared to the larger forces of the demonic empire, they were savage, relentless, and bloodthirsty. This would be a brutal fight.

A low growl caught his attention. He looked down to his side, where his youngest brother, Caelum, stood, his face pale but resolute.

"You're really going out there?" Caelum asked, his voice tense.

Leonis nodded, placing a hand on his brother's shoulder. "It's time. I have to do this."

Caelum looked as if he wanted to argue, but he simply nodded, stepping back to allow his older brother to take the lead. He would be staying behind with the reserves, but the look of concern never left his face.

Leonis mounted his warhorse, the beast stamping its hooves in anticipation. As he rode forward to the front of the battalion, his mind sharpened, the training he had endured all his life coming to the forefront of his thoughts. He wasn't the weak, spoiled prince they all thought he was. Not anymore.

The sky began to darken as the orc and goblin raiders finally came into view—twisted, snarling figures armed with crude weapons, their guttural war cries echoing in the distance. There were hundreds of them, far more than Leonis had anticipated.

He gripped the hilt of his sword tightly, his body tense but ready. This was it. His first real battle.

A loud crash of steel echoed as the orc warlord leading the pack stepped forward, his massive form dwarfing the others. He wielded a rusted axe almost as large as Leonis himself, his bloodshot eyes locked onto the royal battalion with a murderous gaze.

"Show no mercy!" Leonis shouted, unsheathing his blade and raising it high.

The soldiers behind him roared in unison, their swords and spears clashing against their shields as they prepared for the charge.

His body surged with power as the fourth circle he had unlocked recently began to stabilize. His mind was clear, the techniques of swordsmanship flowing through his thoughts as easily as water.

And then the clash began.

The orcs and goblins charged forward, their crude weapons raised. Leonis spurred his horse forward, leading the charge with his soldiers following behind him. The ground shook as they collided with the enemy, the sounds of metal and flesh meeting in a brutal symphony.

Leonis swung his sword with precision, cutting down the first goblin that came too close. His movements were fluid, each strike guided by his mana-enhanced mind. The goblin fell, its body crumpling to the ground in a heap of blood and bones. Another orc came at him from the side, swinging a spiked club, but Leonis anticipated the move, sidestepping and slashing upward. His blade cut through the orc's chest, cleaving it in two.

He felt exhilaration surge through him—this was what he had trained for. Every swing of his sword felt like second nature, his mana guiding his actions with uncanny precision. But there was no time to revel in victory. More enemies were coming.

A goblin with a jagged spear lunged at him from the left. Leonis parried, spinning his sword in a wide arc and slicing through the goblin's arm. The creature screeched in agony before Leonis finished it with a swift strike to the neck. Blood sprayed across the ground as he pressed forward, cutting down one enemy after another.

But then, something changed.

Leonis had anticipated the orcs and goblins to fight like beasts—chaotic and disorganized. But as the battle raged on, he began to notice patterns in their movements. The goblins were flanking the royal soldiers, while the orcs moved in a strategic formation, forcing the battalion into a narrow choke point.

And then, he saw them—at the back of the enemy ranks. Tall, hooded figures, their hands raised in the air, casting dark spells that sent waves of energy rippling through the battlefield. Warlocks. It hit Leonis like a punch to the gut. This was no mere raid. This was a coordinated attack, and these warlocks were controlling the orcs and goblins.

He cursed under his breath. His first battle, and already he was facing magic-wielders.

Leonis scanned the battlefield, searching for the orc warlord. If he could cut down their leader, it might scatter the rest of the forces.

There—near the edge of the field. The warlord was barking orders, swinging his massive axe as he mowed down royal soldiers.

Without hesitation, Leonis charged, his blade humming with mana as he closed in on the warlord. 

The warlord noticed him too late. Leonis leaped from his horse, sword raised high, and brought it down with all the force he could muster. The warlord roared, blocking the strike with his axe, but the force of Leonis's blow sent him staggering backward.

Leonis didn't let up. He struck again, faster this time, aiming for the warlord's legs. The blade sliced through flesh and bone, and the warlord collapsed, his leg severed at the knee.

With a final strike, Leonis drove his sword through the warlord's chest, ending the fight.

For a moment, the battlefield seemed to still. The orcs and goblins faltered, their leader now dead.

But then, the hooded warlocks at the back raised their hands, their voices chanting in an ancient, twisted language.

The ground beneath Leonis rumbled, and a dark shadow began to rise from the earth—a monstrous figure, far larger than any orc or goblin. A beast of pure darkness, its eyes glowing with malice, formed from the warlocks' magic.

Leonis's heart pounded in his chest. This was something new. Something not in the novel. He had no idea how to defeat it.

But he knew one thing: he would not run.

As the shadowy beast lunged toward him, Leonis gripped his sword, his mana surging once more.

It was time to face his greatest challenge yet.

The battlefield had become a blood-soaked nightmare. As Leonis fought the shadow beast, the horrors of the past thirty minutes weighed heavily on him. The clash of steel, the dying cries of men who followed him into battle, and the overwhelming stench of death—it all surrounded him like a suffocating shroud. He glanced around between strikes, his heart sinking as he saw the devastation. Dozens of royal soldiers lay dead, their bodies scattered, torn apart by orcs, goblins, and the warlocks' foul magic.

The truth clawed at him—he had led these men here. He had sent them to their deaths.

What have I done?

The guilt hit him like a hammer. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. This wasn't some training exercise or a mere test of skill. These were real lives. Lives he had been responsible for. His heart pounded in his chest, regret seeping into his bones. He felt his focus slipping as the weight of responsibility crashed down on him.

And then, it happened.

With a deafening roar, the shadow beast's massive claw came crashing down. Leonis barely had time to react. He tried to parry, but the force was too much. The blow sent him flying across the battlefield like a rag doll, his sword clattering to the ground. His body slammed into the dirt, the wind knocked out of him. Pain exploded in his chest, but that was nothing compared to what came next.

The beast pounced, its eyes glowing with dark magic. It roared and brought down its talons with terrifying speed. Leonis barely managed to roll out of the way, but he wasn't fast enough.

The beast's claw came down, and with a sickening crunch, it severed his left arm at the shoulder.

The world seemed to stop.

The pain... It was blinding. Agonizing. He had never felt anything like it before. He screamed, his voice raw and hoarse as blood poured from his shoulder. The searing, mind-numbing agony radiated through his entire body, every nerve screaming in protest. His vision blurred as he collapsed to the ground, clutching the gaping wound where his arm had once been. Blood drenched his armor, staining the emerald and silver plates a deep crimson.

It felt like the end. It should have been the end.

But rage... rage consumed him.

His eyes flared, glowing with a power he hadn't known he possessed. His mind raced back to the novel—the one thing that had led him to this world. He remembered the 54th chapter vividly. It had described this very beast, this monstrous shadow, and its only weakness: a blade heated to 3000°C, hot enough to pierce through the creature's magical defenses.

He grit his teeth through the pain, his body shaking with fury. His thoughts were wild, chaotic, but one thing stood out in his mind—I will not die here.

As he pushed himself to his feet, trembling from the blood loss, something deep within him snapped. His mana surged, responding to his will. He reached for it, grasping the energy around him like a drowning man clinging to life. But this wasn't the swordsmanship mana he was used to. No, this was something entirely different. Something more primal.

Flames began to flicker at his fingertips—blue flames.

Blue fire... Advanced magic? The thought barely registered in his mind. He had never used magic before, let alone something as advanced as this. But here it was, burning in his hands like it had always been a part of him. The blue fire swirled and crackled, radiating a heat so intense it made the air shimmer around him.

He had no time to think. No time to doubt. He was the protagonist. And even though he had no real experience with magic, even though the risk of failure could mean his own death, he had something more powerful than skill. He had plot armor. He had the will to survive.

If I die here, it's over. Everything's over. And I'm not ready to let go.

The beast roared again, charging toward him, but this time, Leonis was ready. He clenched his teeth, focusing every ounce of his being into controlling the flames. His body screamed in protest, the strain of casting magic without training tearing through him, but he ignored it. He forced the fire to his will, shaping it around his sword as he gripped it with his remaining hand.

The blade began to glow, the blue flames wrapping around the steel like a second skin. The heat intensified, turning the blade into a weapon of searing destruction.

Leonis lunged forward, faster than he had ever moved before. His sword cut through the air, trailing blue fire as he swung it down in a wide arc. The beast, caught off guard by the sudden speed and power, tried to swipe at him again, but Leonis was too quick. He sidestepped the attack and thrust his sword deep into the creature's chest.

The moment the blade pierced the shadow beast's body, the blue flames ignited. A deafening explosion of fire engulfed the monster, the heat so intense it singed the ground around them. The beast howled in agony as the flames consumed it, its dark magic unraveling in the face of Leonis's attack. The blue fire burned hotter, and the shadow creature's form began to disintegrate, its body collapsing into ash and smoke.

Leonis stood there, panting, his entire body trembling. His vision blurred, and he felt himself sway on his feet, but the beast was dead. The battle was won.

But at what cost?

He looked around at the battlefield, at the bodies of the men who had followed him, fought for him, and died for him. The pain of his missing arm throbbed, but it was nothing compared to the hollow ache of guilt that settled deep within his chest.

For the first time since entering this world, Leonis truly understood the weight of the crown. Victory was his... but the price had been too high.

As the battlefield fell silent, Leonis dropped to one knee, his sword still glowing with the last traces of blue fire. He stared at the smoldering remains of the beast, his mind swirling with thoughts of what had just happened. He had survived, but he was forever changed.

Leonis's vision flickered, the world around him spinning as his body gave out from the exertion. The pain from his missing arm pulsed, but the rush of adrenaline dulled it just enough to keep him conscious for a few fleeting moments longer. He had done it. The beast lay in ashes, the battle won.

But exhaustion overtook him, and with a final breath, his body collapsed into the blood-soaked earth.

Darkness claimed him.