I woke early, my mind refreshed, my body still sore from yesterday's training.
Three weeks had passed since my incident with Noah. Since that day he ignored my presence as if I no longer existed.
Well, that was just fine by me.
Soft silver moonlight filtered through the barracks window, painting pale patterns on the wall. The world was still, caught in the fleeting moment before dawn.
I always made sure to wake up a few moments earlier than the others so I could watch the sunrise.
It was a ritual I had done in my past life when I had joined the army.
It seemed fitting to do it again.
Officer Mara drilled sword forms into us again and again.
The others seemed to be proficient already, so it was mainly for Noah and my benefit.
Then we'd spar. That was always a ruthless ordeal.
Sparring was not a battle. It was training, the best substitute for real combat. The goal of sparring was to learn, not win. The goal was never to harm your opponent, but to push each other.
Yet, the others in Unit 7 never seemed to afford me that mercy, the wooden practice blade flying with much more lethal precision when I was their opponent.
I always came out of them with a few more bruises adorning my already multi-coloured skin.
Unfortunately, the dream that I'd inherit some sort of gift and cheat had yet to be answered.
Hell, I'd even settle on outstanding talent.
But no. So far, I was painstakingly ordinary. In fact, I was even less than that.
My proficiency with the sword was pathetic. It always took me twice as long with four times the effort to get what everyone else seemed to grasp easily.
I drilled with the sword relentlessly, and despite it all, it felt nothing but foreign in my grasp. Like having someone else's hands stitched onto my wrists.
After the sword training came the grueling physical drills. Demanding a strength that my pampered noble's body had yet to develop.
Every day I pushed myself harder, and while the improvements were slow and painful, I wasn't blind to the transformations that were slowly beginning to take place within my body.
But then again, I also wasn't blind to the difference in skill and strength I had compared to everyone else in my Unit.
As usual, I was alone after being dismissed from training.
The rest of them would undergo further training to do with mana control and usage. I didn't join in. Despite my mana talent levels being sufficient, not undergoing the trial meant that I was currently unable to wield mana.
So, when everyone was being taught how to wield magic more proficiently, I did my own training.
After all, I had once been Reshi, a talented and strong soldier. Albeit, I had become quite rusty during the end of my life.
But, I still remembered everything I'd done to become that soldier. Every drill, exercise and quite literal torture that had propelled me to become a monster in the Republic's forces.
So when the rest of them would learn to handle their mana, I'd go to another training ground. The best thing about Cities of war, was that they were always built to house forces much larger than the current army.
It meant there were many empty buildings and training grounds free for me to do my own private training.
This training ground, unlike the Unit7 one, was abandoned, dirty and unkempt. But that didn't matter.
Calisthenics. That's what would form the basis of my training. For my upper body, I underwent a series of circuits consisting of multiple variations of push-ups and pull-ups pushing myself to the very extreme.
Then I would rest, giving myself time to recover, before repeating the exercises again.
After I had completed five sets of upper body, I moved to sprinting. Pushing myself as hard as I could until my muscles burned in protest, and then pushing even harder.
I had to push myself to this extent. That was the punishment for living such an easy life.
Every other soldier had not undergone more training than I had, but also came from much more demanding backgrounds.
Finishing off with stretching I allowed myself to finally lay down. My day was an exhausting cycle of training, yet I enjoyed it nonetheless.
The fatigue in my muscles, that sense of control of taking active steps towards strength. Working myself to my bones always gave me a soft sense of joy.
It wasn't a powerful euphoria, not something that could make me laugh or jump in ecstasy.
It was more of a quiet, deep satisfaction.
Afterwards, I made my way to the infirmary ward for the last part of my routine, which whole heartedly depended on exploiting this new world with magic.
I mean what was the point of magic if you couldn't selfishly exploit it for your own benefits?
I tried to give a charming smile as I approached the same healer who had watched over me before.
During my time here, I had begun to appreciate the healer's emotionless professionalism. It was a far better alternative to the way everyone else treated me.
"Hello sir, can you heal me again?"
The healer looked at him before sighing in a rare show of emotion. "It'll be from your own energy again."
I learnt that healing worked in two different ways in this world. The healer could use his own energy and magic to heal the patient, or, draw on the patients to do it.
"That's fine."
Stretching out a hand, the healer placed it on my head.
Immediately, I felt a warmth rush through my body as my muscles were instantly healed from my training.
The process left me further exhausted, but it was nothing a good rest wouldn't fix.
This way, I was able to push myself to my fullest extent each and everyday, giving me an edge compared to the other soldiers.
But that was only one of the reasons that I visited here.
During my time living, there had only ever been one thing I looked forward to in life.
Sleeping.
But now there was something else.
I had never been an introverted person by nature, at least not when I was Reshi. Yet during my time in this world, I had been forced to play the part of a sullen introvert. Sometimes, if Officer Mara hadn't given me an order, I wouldn't need to speak for days on end.
I trained alone, lived alone, and healed alone.
But, unexpectedly, there was one person who I could talk with allowing me to escape the gnawing ache of isolation.
Marsh. The young boy who had guided me back to the Unit 7 building the first time I woke up.
He was waiting for me by the infirmary building's entrance, a warm smile on is face.
"Hey, Marsh."
"Hey Art. Wanna go on a walk?"
"Sure", I responded, failing to hold back my smile.
We walked in silence for a moment before I finally spoke up.
"Hey Marsh, I never asked, but what do you want to be when you're older?" I asked, ignoring the disgusted mutters directed at me from the surrounding soldiers.
Marsh, small and bright-eyed, tilted his head. "I want to be a soldier." His voice was unusually firm as he responded, his face fixed in an unusually grim expression.
I raised an eyebrow. "Why the hell do you want to run to the danger? If I was you I'd be a hundred miles from here."
Marsh shook his head emphatically, his grimness shattering into a grin. "I just wanna save people."
"So…why not be a healer then?"
Marsh hesitated, but shook his head after a second of consideration.
"No. Well yeah. I want to learn how to heal as well, but I want to fight on the frontlines too. Just being a healer isn't enough Art.
It just isn't enough," he repeated in a hoarse whisper.
Again, I realised that Marsh's situation was strange. There were few reasons for a boy his age to be on the frontlines. No doubt he also had some demons in his past.
I didn't push the subject, not for lack of care. It simply wasn't my business. If Marsh wanted to confide in me, he would.
"Oh, so like a frontline medic?" I continued, wanting to keep his thoughts occupied in the conversation and not on whatever he was thinking about.
"What's that?"
I paused. 'Strange, does this world not have a concept of frontline medics? Seems like an oversight.'
When I had lived as Reshi that's what I had been.
It was odd that the Thoracen Empire didn't have a similar concept.
"Well" I began hesitantly, "It's similar to healer, but instead of being in the infirmary they're out on the frontlines during battle.
They fight alongside everyone else, but also heal injuries on the field, or at least transport to where they can receive proper healthcare."
Marsh's eyes widened in understanding. "Ohhh, you mean a saint! But Saints are rare, and so are saint candidates."
"Ahh…Saints…What are they?"
Marsh gave me a searching look, then he burst into laughter. "You're actually serious aren't you. Gosh Arthur, have you been living under a rock?"
I smiled. "Something like that."
"Well" Marsh began. "A real saint is like a legend. Someone who has been blessed by two gods of the pantheon. But one of them has to be Asclepius, the pantheon deity of healing. Without his blessing, it's nigh impossible to become a true saint."
I frowned. They had explained this in the novel.
In this world, there were deities. The ruling ones were part of the Pantheon, with the King being Zeus, god of the sky.
Blessings from deities weren't common, especially from the ones who were part of the pantheon.
A blessing was something that could be achieved during the trial. There wasn't a limit on how many blessings a person could receive, yet in the entire world's history. There'd never been more than two.
The MC had three of course. It wouldn't be a good novel without the slightly overpowered MC.
"….and Saint candidates" Marsh continued, "are candidates who only have one blessing, probably from a minor deity that serves under Asclepius."
"So…where are these Saint candidates."
Marsh sighed heavily. "Saint candidates are under the church. The Church hasn't joined the war so you'll probably not see them."
I frowned again. "Why?"
Marsh shrugged, "I don't know, do I look like the pope?"
"Hmm, but why is Asclepius so important to become a Saint? Couldn't you learn healing spells outside of that and be a soldier?"
Marsh's eyes lit up with a childish excitement. It was obvious he loved talking about healing.
"Healing takes energy. Either drawn from the patient's or the healer's. However, with grave injuries, the energy must come from the healer. You understand?"
"Not really."
"Think about it, Art. Imagine your fighting, already expending so much mana and energy. And then having the added burden of healing. It's too much strain. It's impossible. That's why its better to have soldiers and healers as separate jobs.
But you see, Ascelpius's blessing goes around that. His blessings vary from Saint to Saint, but they have their own way to ignore the problem. Some are downright scary, like the Dark Saint."
"The Dark Saint, who is he?"
"She you mean. She was the last Saint. Her blessing allowed her to draw the life force of others to heal her allies."
He paused for a moment.
"There's a story of her, a hundred years ago during the last Dwarvish War. Our side was on the brink of losing due to Dwarvish artillery. She was able to wipe out half the army by herself, draining the life force to bring Our side back from the brink of death."
I shivered, imagining the thought.
"Yeah, that is a bit scary actually. What happened to her?"
Marsh shrugged. "Disappeared fifty years ago. Probably died of old age. If she were here, the rebellion wouldn't have lasted so long."
"Well, are you planning to become a Saint?"
Marsh froze, then burst into soft chuckles. "Me? No way, Saints are special, once a century talents. Someone like me couldn't be that."
"Well you know what Marsh. I reckon you are quite a special creature. If anyone could become a saint, it's you."
He shot me a thankful smile, but it was clear he didn't believe my words. "Thanks Art."
After dropping Marsh off, I walked back to my barracks, my step slightly lighter.
Talking with Marsh always had that effect. It was like carrying around a small, fragile ember in a snow storm. He was always happy, always full of energy.
It was rare these days, to feel something apart from the weight of survival.
The next day was another one of grueling exhaustion, training and solitude.
Yet, I welcomed the pain. It grounded me, preventing me from falling into a pit of cold, dark ,apathy.
Because it was on those days, it was hard to remember why I was doing it all. Hard to keep in my mind that there really is light at the end of the tunnel.
............…..
Officer Skelter sat across from Officer Mara with an exasperated expression.
"I told you Mara, I'm not taking him under my wing."
Mara's dark eyes narrowed, "I'm not asking."
Skelter leaned forward, "Your not my superior here, I don't have to listen to you."
Mara growled softly, and I saw her hand drop to her waist where her sword was, her fingers caressing the handle.
"The boy has little talent for the sword. He trains hard, but he isn't skilled. I need him to learn spearmanship instead."
"And I told you, I refuse to take that noble bastard under my wing. You send him to my Unit, and I'll make sure to kill him properly this time."
Mara sighed, leaning back, her red hair matching the anger in her face. "Why do you have to be such a stubborn bastard James."
Skelter grinned. "We're done here then."
Mara said nothing as Skelter slowly got up, walking out of her office.
......
James Skelter groaned as he left Mara's office, back out on the roads of Umbra.
That was what they had decided to name this particular city of war. It was probably going to be transformed into a real base after the rebellion.
The day was dreary, the sky bleached a stormy grey, and the winds a bitter, biting cold.
"What dreary weather" he muttered softly.
As he walked back to his own unit's barracks, his eyes caught something that made him growl.
Arthur, the noble brat. He had done nothing wrong since being here.
It infuriated him. He had expected, hoped, that the bastard would try and act like a noble.
That way, he'd have plenty of excuses to punish the brat.
But no.
Arthur was training, sprinting back and forth across an abandoned training ground.
That's all he did. He trained hard, did his jobs diligently, and then trained some more in his spare time. Skelter had never once heard a complaint, or a tantrum from the Lordling like he'd expected.
Arthur hadn't even tried to use his background as leverage.
In fact, from what Skelter had heard, Arthur barely said a word to anyone, apart from saying 'Yes sir', or 'Yes Ma'am'.
Meaning, despite it all, there was nothing for Skelter to capitalise on.
It was almost unnerving. Seeing Arthur now, and knowing what he did. It was hard to reconcile that Arthur, with the one that was currently running back and forth with relentless discipline.
Those eyes reminded him of someone….
Skelter shook his head, dismissing the memories. 'Let's not think about that.'
As Skelter passed, he saw a group of soldiers eyeing Arthur darkly, muttering between themselves.
Usually he would've dismissed it, in fact, usually he would've encouraged the expressions on their faces that spoke of cruel action.
So, it was to his own surprise as well as to the soldiers, that he found himself approaching them.
"You lot!" He barked harshly. "What're you up to?"
They jumped as they noticed him, saluting hastily. "Nothing sir?"
"Don't lie" Skelter growled, "Lie one more time and I'll have your nose smelling the back of your head."
They froze, glancing at each other. One of them, tall and skinny with dark eyes and an unruly mop of dark hair stepped forward. "We were just discussing…him, sir."
"Ahh…I see" Skelter replied in a knowing tone. "And what did your talks discuss?"
"Some polite…questioning, sir. I'm sure you understand this sir," the cadet smiled confidently.
Skelter suddenly had an overwhelming urge to smack the taste out of the cadet's mouth.
This was his fault. His actions to Arthur, had indirectly validated any further attacks on the boy.
"Well, cadets. Let me tell you something. If I see any of you, harming your fellow soldiers. Criminal or not. I'll place the brand on you myself, and not before each you have an imprint of my boot in your face first. I will not tolerate any rule breaking. Are we clear?"
They all glanced fearfully at each other. "Y-yes sir!" They responded in unison.
"Good…now fuck off."
Skelter watched the cadets scuttle off with a troubled expression. He had stopped them from breaking rules.
He hadn't been protecting Arthur. No, not all. There was nothing redeemable to protect.
He had just been keeping order.
Skelter sighed, rubbing his head, as he felt a headache coming. "Fuck…I need a drink."