Battlefield (2)
The sensation of awakening to mana was profoundly mystical. It felt like vitality coursed through my entire body, brimming with overflowing power. And on top of that, I realized something else.
Iris had zero talent for explanations.
'She explained it like that?')
When she told me to awaken my mana, her instructions were simple. Mana was latent in every human—it was just a matter of sensing it or not. Focus inward, and it would come naturally. It wasn't wrong, per se.
But still.
-Why can't you feel it? I did it right away.
-Your talent's this bad, and you wanna learn magic?
-Just focus inside! Close your eyes!
No matter how I looked at it, her teaching method wasn't effective. In fact, I'd only awakened my mana by scraping by on the brink of death.
But once I did awaken it, my body buzzed with energy—like life itself was surging through me. I wasn't completely talentless, so I held onto some hope.
-Well... not bad, I guess.
The look in her eyes as she stared at me said it all: she hated to admit it, but she had no choice.
Anyway. After awakening my mana, the magic lessons began.
Truth be told, I hadn't expected much. After hearing her explanation on awakening mana, how could I?
But surprisingly, she explained magic itself quite accessibly.
"It's all about imagery."
"Imagery?"
"Sure, there are aids like magic circles, chants, and circuits. But at its core, magic is manifesting the mage's imagined image into reality. That's why as your tier rises, those aids fade away—you can trigger spells just by solidifying your thoughts."
"So you don't need to learn those aids?"
"No. If that were true, every mage would be an archmage. You can only skip them after mastering the basics. Still, the key is always clear imagery and bringing it to life."
Her explanation was concrete and precise above all else. Especially with such a solid teaching aid right beside her.
My first spell came sooner than expected.
Flame Wave
A wave of fire erupted from my fingertips, sweeping over the enemies. My first spell unfurled in breathtaking beauty. I could hardly believe I'd conjured that scene myself.
Iris, watching beside me, let out a hollow chuckle.
"A newbie's first spell with this kind of power...? That's at least 3rd tier."
"High?"
"Low overall. Mage tiers go up to 10th, and the gaps widen exponentially higher up. But a total beginner matching 3rd tier? Impossible. How?"
She muttered in disbelief, but the conclusion was clear: I was amazing.
Seeing my shoulders puff up, Iris scowled.
"Don't get cocky. You know better than anyone this is a battlefield, right?"
"Yeah."
On the battlefield, nothing was certain. Superhumans who could shatter armies in one blow roamed here. This luck couldn't last forever.
So I had to grow stronger, fast.
"Still, I have magic talent, right?"
"...Yeah."
Iris looked like she'd rather die than admit it. I wondered if she hated me that much, but after weeks together, I'd figured her out.
She's not honest.
Iris wasn't straightforward. She seemed prickly, but living with her showed it wasn't her true nature.
The battlefield is brutal.
You could bond with someone, only to find their corpse by morning. As a mage, she was a prime target. So she avoided attachments.
Sharp-tongued, but her heart was endlessly kind. That was the Iris I saw.
Maybe that's why I could smile genuinely at her sullen face.
"You're pissing me off!"
I took a smack, but it was all good.
Time flowed on.
With Iris as my master after awakening to magic, we roamed the battlefield together. Experience breeds growth, and the endless fights here were the perfect springboard.
Mage tiers ran from 1st to 10th. Iris was currently 7th tier.
I'd started at 1st, but rapid progress shot me to 6th tier, with 7th in sight.
Half a year since dropping into the warzone. Five months of proper training under her.
Considering 8th tier marked archmages—the pinnacle—it was absurd growth. But the battlefield's intensity, her 7th-tier guidance, and my unexpected talent made it possible.
Now we fought side by side, even earning a nickname. But little had changed from before.
The war dragged on endlessly.
One thing different: our relationship.
Iris, once all thorns, gradually opened up. Her nagging lessened; her irritated voice softened. She leaned on me more.
I was no different. In a mire of death, relying on someone was strength itself.
We trusted and supported each other through the hellish fields.
We shared stories too, learning much about her.
Under blackout skies thick with stars, we sat shoulder-to-shoulder on a rocky crevice for watch, gazing up and chatting.
She smiled more now—strictly when talking to me.
Mid-conversation, she asked as if it just occurred to her.
"You still don't know who I am, do you?"
"Disciple of an archmage? Vice Tower Master of the Magic Tower."
My answer soured her mood; she pouted.
"How'd you know?"
"Five months of ears—how could I not?"
"Lame. I was gonna tell you myself."
"Too bad."
She stared long as I nodded, then said,
"Hmph... so? Impressed by your master's greatness yet?"
Meeting her gaze, I replied nonchalantly.
"I've known your greatness forever. Though teaching mana was a mess."
"I awakened mine in one go."
"Sure, sure. Must be nice. I'm so honored to have the great Iris as my master."
Her eyes widened at my sarcasm, mana rippling around her.
"Wanna die?"
"I like living."
"Sigh... how'd I end up with a disciple like you?"
"You look like you're smiling, though?"
"I'm not!"
Her mouth twitched despite the denial. Anyone could see she was forcing down a grin, but I let it slide.
"..."
"..."
Silence fell; we looked to the star-packed sky, moon at center.
Its lonely beauty stirred me—then soft hair brushed my cheek, a slight weight on my shoulder.
"Evan."
"Yeah."
"What'll you do when the war ends?"
"Dunno. Haven't thought about it."
Survival consumed me; postwar dreams were distant. Tomorrow could be my last.
"Anything you wanna do?"
"Nothing specific."
"Nothing at all?"
"Yeah."
"Really?"
"Yep."
A hum of satisfaction followed my answers.
"I see. So no one to hang out with, huh?"
"What're you getting at?"
"Nothing... but if you want, I could stick around. Eat good food, have fun. Y'know, specially."
I glanced over. Her face was half-hidden against my shoulder, but her ears were beet red.
Embarrassed by her own words—classic.
I could've played along, but something held me back.
"Dunno. I think I'd be fine."
"W-why?"
"I can handle myself alone."
Dissatisfied, she thwacked my forehead. I could've blocked, but didn't.
"What's your problem?"
"...You really don't know?"
"Nope. Unless... you wanna be with me?"
"..."
No answer. Hidden by night, but I saw the red creep from ears to face.
I could've yielded, but not tonight.
"If you wanna be together after the war, I'd be down. Whaddya say?"
"Hah! I-I'm fine too!"
Her voice said otherwise.
"Cool. Then we're good. Go our separate ways."
"...For real?"
"Thought you didn't wanna be with me."
I wouldn't budge until she said it outright.
Finally, a tiny voice.
"...I do."
"What?"
"I wanna be together..."
Her pleading tone for the first time drew a smirk from me.
"Then we will."
Simple as that. She mumbled,
"...Let's eat lots of good stuff."
"Sure."
"Places I wanna go."
"Sounds fun."
"People to introduce."
"Looking forward to it."
Her hand overlapped mine, trembling faintly.
"...We'll survive, right?"
Her voice thick with emotion. I gently clasped her hand.
"Yeah. We will. We have to."
No one knew when this war would end—not even the so-called gods.
But one thing I knew: I'd claw my way to survival.
For the future ahead.
I'd live.