Battlefield (1)
Human life is truly complicated. Not only humans—all the living beings in this world pursued their own purposes and ways of living. But I could confidently declare that no one's life was as tangled as mine.
One moment I was minding my own business, and the next I was dropped into an isekai fantasy world. Worse, smack in the middle of a battlefield, forced to grab a sword just to stay alive. That instant? I'd never forget it.
No reason, no explanation. I just opened my eyes, and there I was. Sword in hand or die.
Truth be told, a guy like me—who'd never thrown a punch in his life—getting thrown into a medieval war? My survival odds were zilch. Straight-up impossible.
But luck was on my side. I survived.
No sudden possession buff or anything cheesy like that. It was thanks to one powerhouse sweeping the battlefield. The side I was on crushed it, overwhelming victory. I'd only ever seen humans like that in fantasy stories, but this one obliterated hundreds with a single strike. An unforgettable sight.
Even after surviving by sheer luck, I stayed on that battlefield. No ID, no papers, no way out. For a random isekai drop-in with zero connections, reality was that brutal.
So I fought to live. Day by day. Swinging a sword till my arms fell off. Killing for the first time. Nearly dying myself, shaking hands with the grim reaper more than once.
Luck kept me breathing, and as days turned to routine survival, I reached a conclusion: I had zero talent for the sword. Not a speck.
It was that bad. One of my surviving comrades even said, "You being alive must be divine will." He was a devout follower of the Church of Light, and in an era where religion held near-absolute sway, that said it all about my pathetic skills.
Knowing it didn't change shit. To survive, I had to swing that sword. No perks, no talents—just me against the world. And that wasn't changing anytime soon.
How much time passed? About a month, give or take.
By then, I'd gotten as used to the battlefield as anyone could. That's when I first encountered a mage.
A mage was just that: someone wielding the mystical power of mana. Shooting flames like a kid's daydream, calling down lightning—a total powerhouse. Lucky for us, she was on our side, tipping the scales our way.
From my drop-in day to now, our side always had the edge. But the war dragged on. Why?
My comrade cleared it up.
"The Allied Kingdoms are waiting for their shot at the Empire. They're piling up troops endlessly. A superpower for millennia like the Empire starts shaking? Of course they're circling like vultures. It's basically the whole world against the Empire—ain't ending quick."
Short version: This generation's Empire was unusually vulnerable. The kingdoms seized the chance and allied up for the invasion.
Why the shake-up? He looked baffled but explained anyway.
"The throne succession turned bloody. Normally, only the First Imperial Prince inherits to avoid kin-slaying, with strict bans on family killing. But this time? Rules shattered."
"Why?"
"His Majesty passed, and the Crown Prince's incompetence shone through. He was a notorious wastrel before, but with the throne empty? Useless. The First Imperial Princess had enough—killed him outright and took the crown. Wiped out the other royals too."
"Why the others?"
"Who knows? Probably same reason as the Crown Prince. Incompetents don't deserve to breathe... something like that. Or maybe more to it. Anyway, with chaos like that, you think the other kingdoms sit still? They're pouncing."
He sighed deeply.
"No one knows when this war ends. We look strong now, but we could get steamrolled anytime. Still, I believe. The First Imperial Princess—no, our new Emperor—is a capable ruler. That's why we're holding."
His face darkened as he gazed at the sky.
"No resentment?"
"If the Crown Prince had taken it, the Empire would've crumbled anyway. This war was inevitable. So we give our all. You too—survive."
He turned in for the night.
Listening, I thought: To end this endless war, I needed power.
No hesitation.
"Teach me magic."
I approached the mage bolstering our lines. She was a woman—stunning looks, but a temper that scared off even fellow soldiers.
"What the hell? Some mana-less trash like you? Piss off!"
She flicked her hand—whoosh!—and I flew, slamming into the dirt. First pain like that knocked me out cold.
But I didn't stop. Regained consciousness? Back to her. Beatings galore: burned, electrocuted, even punched out. For a mage, her fisticuffs were art-tier.
Maybe she got fed up with my persistence. One day, instead of pounding me, she yelled.
"Quit coming! Why the fuck do you wanna learn magic? Think anyone can just pick it up?"
"Isn't that what trying's for?"
"Mana-blind idiot—obvious! Magic? Most kids never get it no matter how long they train. You know that?"
"So teach me once. Enemies are quiet lately—plenty of time."
I wouldn't quit. Not because I thought magic was easy. Just grasping at my best shot. Sword talent? Nonexistent. Magic might be different. If not, I'd drop it clean.
She raged on, then sighed, realizing I was dead serious.
"Haa... Know how valuable my time is? Or who I even am?"
"Who?"
"What!? You don't... Haa... Fine. Ignorance explains it."
She brushed back her hair.
"Name's Iris. Memorize it. It's your master's name from now on."
"Got it."
"No hand-holding here. Lag behind? You're gone. Clear?"
Her tone dripped irritation, but I nodded. It was a yes, whatever the attitude.
From then, I stuck to her side. Soldiers called me a looks-obsessed lunatic. Didn't buy the magic excuse.
Makes sense—magic's for prodigies trained from childhood. A mana virgin like me learning mid-battlefield? Laughable. Just a pretty face chasing fantasy.
Nah. Kill or be killed—I had to try.
Not easy at first. Couldn't even sense mana, let alone cast.
Battlefield life left zero chill time for lessons. Enemies quieted, but skirmishes persisted. Endless blood, death, chaos.
Sticking to Iris upped the danger, not down. Her "explanations"? Abstract nonsense.
"Feel the mana! Focus inside! You'll get it!"
She sucked at teaching. Like, "Why no work?" levels. And her temper? Foul. Her vague bullshit, my confusion—then beatings. Felt like dealing with a psycho. Thought about snapping once or twice.
But I endured. Two weeks in...
"Oh."
I sensed it—a bizarre energy circulating inside me. An exclamation slipped out.
Two weeks under the least teacherly teacher ever. I'd awakened my mana.