I was Drafted Into a War as the Only Human

He earned a lot of cold stares from his outburst, but Lucy didn't let that faze him.

After a few seconds, Seraphine continued speaking, her voice light and cheerful.

"Now that I have your allegiance, we can begin the assortment," she said, gesturing toward a large crystal ball resting atop a marble pedestal.

"This ball will reveal your magic power and the rank of your ability!" Her eyes practically gleamed with excitement.

Lucy's face lit up as he stared at it.

'Magic power, abilities? Here, I thought money was the best thing in the world. Well, in my old world, anyway.'

Seraphine's voice carried efficiently across the vast marble hall.

"Darfin Valmys, my head general of the elves, will call you up individually. When he calls your name, you'll approach the crystal, place your hand on it, and pour your mana into it."

At her words, an elven man stepped forward. He was stunning—tall and lithe, with absurdly long golden hair and even longer pointed ears. His beauty was almost unnatural, like the gods themselves had sculpted him.

Lucy glanced at him, his spirit immediately crumpling.

'The goddess called me cute, the goddess called me cute,' he chanted internally, a desperate shield against the overwhelming gap in handsomeness.

The hall fell silent as Darfin spoke, his voice stern and heavy with authority.

"When your name is called, step forward quickly. Place your hand on the crystal and channel your mana into it. The ball will react—the brighter the glow, the more potent your magic."

Without another word, he called, "Llarm Leoceran, step forward."

A few seconds of awkward shuffling passed before a small elven boy strutted to the podium. He had the same long blond hair and pointed ears typical of elves, though his ears were noticeably shorter than Darfin's.

The boy radiated smug confidence, moving like he expected the heavens themselves to part in applause. Without a word, he dramatically placed his hand on the crystal, tossing his hair with a theatrical flourish.

"Get ready! You're about to witness something amazing," he declared.

The goddess giggled lightly from her throne. "Oh, please show us, then," she said, her voice playful.

The boy smugly turned away from the ball, acting like the result was already a foregone conclusion.

The crystal began to glow, slowly forming a color.

"You don't even have to say anything," he said, preening. "I already know I'm special."

Almost as if mocking him, the ball began to speak in a mechanical, echoing voice:

Magic Power: Average.

Ability Rank: Basic.

Ability Name: Wind Manipulator.

Llarm's mouth practically hit the floor.

Lucy, however, found the situation hilarious. He burst out laughing, loud and shameless, his voice echoing through the vast palace.

"Man, how embarrassing! The way he slapped his hand on there like he was some hotshot—oh man, and right in front of the goddess too!" he wheezed, wiping fake tears from his eyes.

No one else joined in.

Instead, a thick, uncomfortable silence fell over the hall. Dozens of eyes turned toward him—some filled with anger, others with something closer to fear.

Whatever it was, Lucy didn't like it one bit.

As for Llarm, the boy didn't say a word. He just stepped down from the podium, shoulders slumped and head bowed low.

The sight jabbed a pang of guilt through Lucy's chest.

Before he could dwell on it, Darfin's voice rang out again, sharp and commanding.

"Magic Power and Ability Rank are your battle ratings. From Basic to Divine for power, and Basic through Mythic for ability — Mythic is practically unheard of."

He paused, then spoke once more.

"Gindu, step forward."

Lucy turned just in time to see the blue-skinned, dragon-like creature beside him awkwardly stumble toward the podium. Fumbling with his thumbs the whole way, his jaw trembled so severely it was painful to watch.

'This might be worse than that idiot elf,' Lucy thought, wincing slightly.

Gindu hesitated, then placed his shaky hand onto the crystal.

However, the palace rumbled the moment he did.

The crystal glowed a bright silver, practically blinding Lucy, and a low hum of power vibrated through the marble floor beneath his feet.

Then, the mechanical voice spoke again, calm but somehow heavier, like it was announcing royalty:

Magic Power: Elite.

Ability Rank: Master.

Ability Name: Scale of Aegis.

This time, it was Lucy's jaw that nearly hit the floor.

'Okay... I did not expect that, but if an idiot like him has high magic power, maybe I've got a shot too!'

The thought brought a small, shaky wave of relief.

Although that didn't last long, everything had happened so quickly that Lucy hadn't even had time to process any of it. His mind raced in frantic loops.

'Wait, what the hell am I even thinking about right now? High magic power? Mana? This isn't real. I'm dreaming. That's it—I'm dreaming!'

Panic crept up his spine as the thought took root.

Without thinking, he pinched his arm.

A sharp jolt of pain shot through him.

"Ow!" he yelped, drawing more confused stares—none more puzzled than the goddess herself.

'...Okay. Maybe this is real,' he thought reluctantly, trying not to meet anyone's eyes.

Before he could further embarrass himself, Gindu stepped down from the podium, a slight swagger hidden in his nervous steps.

Darfin's voice cut sharply through the air once more.

"Eri, step forward."

A girl with short brown hair, soft cat-like ears, and a tail padded shyly toward the podium. She moved nervously, but compared to Gindu, she handled herself like a seasoned performer.

Lucy's jaw tightened slightly.

'Damn... my old world sucked compared to here,' he thought shamelessly, his eyes trailing after her.

Eri placed her delicate hand onto the crystal. A soft, luminous light-blue shimmer bloomed inside it.

The mechanical voice spoke again:

Magic Power: Above Average.

Ability Rank: Legendary.

Ability Name: Nine Lives.

Lucy blinked.

'Did that thing just say Legendary?!'

He didn't even know exactly what it meant, but legendary had to be good and special.

He was proven right in the end.

As the hours dragged by, more dragonkin, beastkin, elves, ogres, and giants stepped forward, pressing their hands to the crystal. One after another, the results rolled in—average, above average, basic, but never legendary.

Even that nervous wreck, Gindu, despite all his fumbling, still had the brightest magic so far.

Lucy could only watch, a pit forming deep in his stomach.

As Darfin's list dwindled, so did Lucy's composure.

He bounced lightly on the balls of his feet, hands clammy, a quiet, desperate mantra running through his head:

'Crap, crap, it's almost my turn. Stay calm. I will NOT make a fool of myself!'

And then it happened.

After another lumbering giant slunk off the podium, Darfin's voice rang out:

"Lucian Gray."

Darfin paused, his lips curling into something between a sneer and a grimace before hissing the following word:

"Step forward."

Lucy blinked, caught off guard.

'Wow, not even a please,' he thought, biting back the comment before it could escape.

The walk toward the podium stretched endlessly before him, each step heavier than the last, as if the polished marble resisted his approach.

Lucy darted a glance at the other draftees, desperate for some flicker of encouragement—a nod, a smile, anything—but none met his eyes.

Their gazes either slid past him like he was nothing more than mist or clung to him with naked, simmering disdain.

He swallowed thickly, throat dry as sand.

Being the only human here wasn't just awkward—it was suffocating. Every averted gaze, every stiff shoulder turned against him, building an invisible wall he could almost feel pressing against his skin, cold and absolute.

And yet—

Something shifted when his eyes flicked toward the goddess lounging on her throne.

Earlier, she'd lounged with the lazy air of a cat among half-dead mice, visibly bored by the parade of mediocrity. Now, she sat upright, bright blue eyes sharp and alert, pinned onto him with an unsettling intensity.

A wicked smile tugged at the corners of her lips. She winked—an unmistakable, playful flick—and a breathy giggle slipped free, as clear and teasing as the chime of a silver bell.

Lucy stiffened, heat flaring across his cheeks and neck, but then, almost without thinking, a crooked grin tugged at his mouth.

The knot of anxiety inside him loosened, just a little.

He straightened his back, squared his shoulders, and lifted his chin, flashing the goddess a small, daring smile before forcing his gaze forward again.

Whispers and snickers pricked at the edges of his hearing as he moved, but he kept his head high, dodging side-eyes and muttered insults like stepping stones across a raging river.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he reached the crystal.

It stood atop a pedestal of dark stone, gleaming under the high-arched lights, smooth and perfect and waiting.

Lucy exhaled slowly and pressed his hand onto the glassy surface—

And froze.

Nothing.

Not even a flicker.

A beat of silence stretched long and awkwardly.

'Wait... how do I even do this? I don't have magic!'

Panic clawed up his throat, cold and frantic.

Mind racing, he leaned sideways toward Darfin, barely moving his lips as he whispered under his breath, "Uh, how do I do this?"

The beautiful elf didn't even glance at him. Instead, he let out a long, theatrical sigh, dragging a slender hand down his flawless face with the exhausted patience of someone explaining things to a particularly slow child.

"Why in the hell did our Lady draft you?" Darfin muttered, the words more venom than breath, before switching to a louder, clipped voice that cut through the murmuring crowd.

"Feel the energy within you—and push it into the ball."

Lucy snapped upright like he'd been caught doing something illegal.

'Right. Feel the energy. Push it. Easy. Totally easy.'

He closed his eyes, heart hammering against his ribs, and reached inward—toward a part of himself he'd never tried to touch.

At first, there was nothing.

Only blackness.

The rush of blood in his ears. The raw, choking pressure of too many eyes boring into his back.

But then—

Something stirred.

Deep beneath the frantic noise of his fear, like a vast sea hidden beneath cracking ice, a presence awakened. Ancient, immense, it coiled within him like a sleeping leviathan.

It wasn't rage. It wasn't fire.

It was power—cold, immense, and patient, as if it had been waiting for him all along.

'Uh... transfer, if you would, into the ball,' he thought, half-wincing at how ridiculous he sounded.

The response was instant.

Power flowed through him, silent and inexorable, rising from that hidden sea and surging down his arm.

Lucy braced himself for disappointment—the inevitable, humiliating reminder that he didn't belong here.

After all, he was the only human standing on this grand stage. That had to mean something, right?

And then—

The palace shook.

A low, bone-deep tremor rumbled through the marble floors, rattling the crystal chandeliers overhead.

Lucy flinched as the crystal ball exploded into blinding, searing white light, which engulfed him and poured out in wild, uncontrolled waves.

Cries and gasps burst from the spectators, some shielding their eyes, others stumbling back in alarm.

Lucy squinted into the glare, heart pounding so violently it hurt.

The light grew stronger, flooding the entire throne room until the air seemed to crack apart.

And then, cutting through the stunned chaos, the mechanical voice rang out:

Magic Power: Divine.

Ability Rank: Mythic.

Ability Name: Habitual Learner.

Lucy stared blankly at the blazing crystal, his mind refusing to catch up.

The words echoed around the vaulted hall, surreal and incomprehensible.

'...What did she say?!'