Lucas Draken's earliest memories were small and ordinary: his mother carrying him through their border town on the Forak continent, the smell of fresh bread from the bakery, children's laughter in the streets.
The town sat between rolling hills and thick forest, always shadowed by the threat of the Gremory family, but in those days kindness bound the place together and the strong looked after the weak.
His mother's arms were a constant warmth; his father's steely gaze softened whenever he looked at Lucas.
By five, his father was training him with a wooden blade. The man was stern but patient, teaching not only footwork and parry but the basics of magic Lucas couldn't yet use.
He remembered the thrill when his father demonstrated a new technique—how the air seemed to hum with potential.
He remembered a boy who was his partner in mischief, afternoons spent racing through alleys until their sides ached. Those years were quietly happy in their simplicity.
Everything changed the night the town burned. Lucas woke to explosions and a sky cleaved by light.
Metallic objects—fighter jets, he would later learn—swooped overhead as Terran soldiers poured into the streets.
The city guard fought, but they were quickly overwhelmed. Lucas watched his friend fall, heard the terrible, ordinary sounds of slaughter.
His parents tried to give him time to flee; his father's blade flashed in the blaze while his mother shoved him away. He ran blind through crumbling walls and smoke, driven by one single thing: escape.
A Terran colonel later found him and took him in.
Said colonel later became headmaster of Nublar Academy. At first Lucas hated the man and everything Terra represented.
He swore revenge—against the soldiers who had taken his town, his family, his friends—and believed Fantasia to be the wronged party in the conflict.
But years of living with the enemy had a way of complicating things. While living with the colonel, he came to know more about Terran culture.
Came to know more Terrans, and unfortunately for him, he'd gotten attached to a few of them.
He'd now seen how war was affecting the Terrans as well, yet it still continues. Though, even in all this, he still believed Fantasia to be the wronged party.
Afterall, Fantasia cities were constantly being destroyed, and turned into military bases.
Fantasians within those cities were usually all killed, without exception. Even if they were civilians. Even if they were children.
'Fantasia doesn't fight like that.' That was the thought Lucas had. Fantasia doesn't target civilians or children.
And yet, years and years of violence had a way of complicating absolutes.
He'd now seen for the first time in his life, Fantasia attacked a testing ground full of children.
He'd seen them send strong soldiers with the intent of killing said children. And now, the black-and-white truths of his youth blurred into a gray he didn't trust.
And now, standing across from Hindel, Lucas could feel the old anger he felt when he saw those fantasian soldiers for the first time, flare up again.
Because it meant he had to face some uncomfortable truths. That maybe, Fantasians weren't absolutely the good guys either.
And now he was beginning to lose faith in whatever noble causes he once had, of saving Fantasia from the evil menace known as Terra.
Now, it seemed like he simply had to look for a way to end the war.
*******
[Back to the battle...]
Nathan moved first. His wings burst open with a gust of air as he dashed forward, mechanical sword slicing downward.
Sparks scattered as Hindel met the blade with his spear, twisting smoothly to parry and send Nathan spinning past him.
Before Nathan could recover, Hindel kicked off the ground, his boot slamming into Nathan's side and hurling him through the air. He crashed hard into the ground, his suit rippling as it struggled to seal the torn fabric.
Natasha fired next, a flurry of blue energy bolts streaking toward Hindel.
The man blurred to the side, each blast missing by inches. In the same motion, he swept his spear low and struck the ground—light magic flaring outward.
The ground erupted into jagged stone spikes that ripped through the dirt, forcing Natasha to dive aside.
A few shards grazed her arm, tearing through her suit before it sealed again.
Patrick roared and charged, his warhammer glowing faintly as he swung with both hands.
Hindel sidestepped at the last moment, the hammer slamming into the earth and shaking the field.
The moment Patrick tried to recover his stance, Hindel spun, slamming the shaft of his spear across Patrick's chest.
The impact sent the larger cadet sprawling backward, coughing.
Marcus stepped in, electricity crackling around his gauntlets. He thrust his hand forward, sending arcs of lightning snapping toward Hindel.
But Hindel twirled his spear, forming a barrier of light that absorbed the current before exploding outward.
The backlash of force struck Marcus, tossing him several meters away. Smoke trailed from his suit's chest as its fibers worked to repair the burn.
Alicia's fan snapped open with a metallic hiss, winds shrieking as they cut through the air toward Hindel.
He planted his spear into the ground, releasing a pulse of light that dispersed the gusts before they could reach him.
In the same instant, he leapt forward, closing the distance almost immediately.
Alicia barely had time to cross her fan in defense before Hindel's knee slammed into her midsection, driving the air from her lungs and sending her sliding backward.
Lucas joined the fray, fury flashing in his eyes. His longsword met Hindel's spear in a violent exchange, strikes ringing through the clearing.
For a brief moment, he was able to match Hindel's rhythm, until Hindel took him seriously.
He shifted his grip, deflecting Lucas's blade and twisting his spear upward. A pulse of wind-infused magic exploded from the movement, hurling Lucas off balance.
Hindel then followed up with a sweeping kick that knocked Lucas to one knee.
"Is this all you've got?" Hindel said coolly, his tone like that of a disappointed teacher. "The so-called elite of Nublar Academy?"
Nathan, battered but defiant, pushed himself up, wings flaring once more. "Shut up, you damn lesser!"
Hindel's expression darkened. "You keep using that word," he said softly, almost curious. "Who gave you the right to call us that?"
Before Nathan could answer, Hindel was in front of him, as he thrust forward.
The spear struck Nathan square in the chest, sending him crashing into the dirt with a thunderous impact.
Natasha fired again, but Hindel casually swept his hand in a wide arc as arrows made of light spiraled outward, dissolving every bolt mid-air.
"Pathetic," Hindel muttered, lowering his weapon. His voice was calm, but the disdain in it cut deeper than his spear ever could. "I expected a better challenge than this. How disappointing."
Saying so, he raised his spear above to deliver the finishing blow, but just as he did, a massive tree slammed into him with enough force to send him flying backward.
The impact shook the ground, and everyone froze, their eyes wide with confusion.
"What the—" Patrick started, but he was cut off by a voice they all recognized.
"Well, well, what do we have here?" The voice was arrogant, mocking, and unmistakable.
Theodore Hunt stepped into the clearing, his red hair streaked with black, his suit gleaming in the dim light.
Behind him stood Lenny and Elizabeth, their expressions calm but calculating.
Nathan's eyes widened in rage, his fists clenching tightly. "Theodore…"
Theodore smirked, his gaze flicking to Hindel, who was already pushing himself to his feet. "Don't you know it's proper manners to greet a king before the peasants who serve him? Lesser."