I was Drafted Into a War as the Only Human

The cool night breeze ruffled Lucy's messy black hair as he exited the tent. The air smelled of ash, salt, and magic—a strange mix that clung to everything on this war-ravaged cliffside.

He tilted his head toward the sky, his eyes trailing the stars, which shimmered like shattered glass frozen in time.

'I just can't forgive her... not yet.'

The thought echoed with a weary bitterness as he slowly began to count the stars, using the rhythm to quiet the storm inside.

'Too much happened. Too many died. Until her plan comes to life, I don't think I'll be able to forgive her.'

But one truth lingered—he didn't hate her as much as before. Not entirely. The edge had dulled, though the wound still bled. 𝚏𝐫𝚎𝗲𝕨𝐞𝐛𝕟𝚘𝐯𝚎𝗹.𝕔𝐨𝗺

He understood why she did what she did, but it didn't sit right with him and probably never would.

A loud, familiar laughter burst through the silence, tearing him from his thoughts.

He turned, already knowing the source.

At the cliff's edge, Llarm stood among a few elven sentries, his voice echoing as he laughed like a man without a care. The other elves quieted when they saw Lucy approach—eyes narrowing, conversations ending mid-sentence.

Only Llarm smiled.

Lucy didn't flinch. He was used to it by now—the stares, the silence. Being human in a divine war came with a price.

Still, instead of meeting disdain with sarcasm, he returned Llarm's smile and bowed deeply.

"Thank you, hero!" he called, his voice rising loud and proud, echoing into the vast darkness below the cliff.

Llarm blinked in surprise, then burst out laughing again. "No need to thank me! The Amazing Llarm must protect the weak!"

Lucy's eye twitched. 'Weak?'

He let it slide. That was just Llarm—cocky, over-the-top, but genuine.

"But seriously," Llarm continued, wiping a tear of laughter from his eye, "Did you have to go fight a general? Even I, the great Llarm, wouldn't be dumb enough to try that!"

Lucy let out a soft chuckle—one he desperately needed after the weight of the day. "Oh, you're too modest, Sir Llarm. You could've crushed Fenara with a single finger," he teased, playing into the elf's exaggerated persona.

But Llarm didn't laugh this time.

His expression turned serious, and a worried glint crept into his eyes.

"Be more careful next time. I could barely help you out, and if Fenara wanted you dead..." He hesitated. "You wouldn't be standing here."

The words hit Lucy like a quiet punch to the chest. He knew they were true.

"I will," Lucy said softly. "Don't worry."

But deep down, he knew it was a lie. He would fight more generals. He had to. That was the path he'd chosen, or rather, the one chosen for him. If it meant protecting billions, his hands would have to stay stained.

Sensing the tension, Lucy shifted the conversation. "So, how long are you stuck out here?"

Llarm sagged as if he'd just been told someone died. "Two more hours," he groaned like it was a death sentence.

Then, he pointed toward a nearby tent. "But don't wait up for me. That one over there's ours. We're sharing with Eri and Gindu."

Lucy gave him a slight nod. "Got it. I'll tell them the great Llarm is fighting the darkness with unmatched valor."

Llarm grinned. "Damn right!"

Lucy chuckled again as he turned toward the tent. The stars still shimmered above, and the wind still whispered its cold truths, but for a moment, things felt lighter.

The tent was far smaller than Seraphine's, and instead of ornate furniture or magical warmth, there were just four sleeping bags tucked into the corners like afterthoughts. Still, Lucy didn't mind. Right now, even the simplest bedroll felt like a gift from the heavens.

Gindu and Eri were curled up together on the left side of the room, their breaths slow and steady, and they were already asleep. Lucy tiptoed across the tent, careful not to wake them, and quietly slid into his sleeping bag.

The moment his body sank into the worn fabric, a groan of relief escaped his lips. Every joint ached, every muscle burned, but gods, it felt good to lie down.

'I miss my money,' he thought with a tired grin. Back in his old world, he could buy luxury. Now, a beat-up sleeping bag in a war tent felt like luxury. 'What a downgrade.'

Sleep instantly pulled at him, wrapping around his body like a warm blanket. The pain dulled, the noise of the camp faded, and his thoughts slowed.

Suddenly, a booming voice shattered the peace.

"Wyrmling, is that you?!"

Lucy jolted upright in pure panic, heart hammering.

'Wyrmling? What the hell is that supposed to mean?'

"Uh... I hope not?" he mumbled, groggy and utterly confused.

Heavy footsteps thudded against the tent floor. They were getting closer. Louder. More urgent.

And then—WHAM.

Gindu appeared above him like a mountain of muscle and blue scales, eyes wild with excitement.

"It is you!" he roared joyfully, then reached down and yanked Lucy from his sleeping bag like he weighed nothing.

"What the hell—?!" Lucy flailed as Gindu shook him violently, up and down, side to side. "Hey! Stop! I'm gonna—!"

"I cannot! This is how we Dragonkin show affection!" Gindu bellowed, grinning from ear to ear.

Lucy was too stunned to react. 'Affection?! This feels more like a damn earthquake!'

"PUT. ME. DOWN!" he finally gasped, stomach threatening to revolt from all the shaking.

Eventually, Gindu relented and set him back on the floor with a heavy thud. Lucy sat there, head spinning, arms splayed like a broken ragdoll. "I think I saw my soul leave my body..."

"It's the least I could do; you saved Eri," Gindu said matter-of-factly.

Standing tall with his arms crossed, his blue scales caught the dim lantern light like polished gemstones.

His voice softened—just slightly. "I saw what you did. I was tied up and couldn't save her, but you came for her. So, thank you. You're not a bad wyrmling after all."

Lucy blinked. That... wasn't what he expected.

His eyes drifted toward Eri, still fast asleep in her corner. Her face looked so peaceful now, unlike the cold disgust she'd worn after he saved her earlier. She hadn't even thanked him.

But Gindu had. And for some reason, that mattered more than he wanted to admit.

"...Don't mention it," Lucy muttered, rubbing the back of his neck, still a little dizzy. But under the sarcasm, relief bloomed quietly in his chest.

Their hate had always hurt him more than he let on.

Without really thinking, he extended his hand toward Gindu. "The name's Lucy," he said with a tired smile.

Gindu eyed the hand like it might explode. "Wyrmling—uh, Lucy... why are you holding it out like that?"

"It's called a handshake. "It's what we humans do when we make new friends," Lucy explained. "Trust me. It won't poison you."

The dragonkin hesitated. "You're sure it won't poison me?"

Lucy groaned. 'Why do these idiots all think I'm trying to kill them?' 'First Llarm, now this scaled lunatic.'

"Yes. I'm sure."

After a long pause, Gindu slowly reached out his clawed hand and grasped Lucy's, firm but carefully.

"To a new friendship," Lucy said.

Gindu grinned, sharp teeth flashing. "To a new friendship, Wyrmling."

Lucy sighed. 'Close enough.'