I was Drafted Into a War as the Only Human

Vorn stared at Lucy with an almost childlike curiosity, his head tilted slightly, as if studying a strange painting in a museum. The intensity in those calm, weathered eyes made Lucy hesitate.

He had been told this elf was a monster, a war-hardened killer with no equal, but that couldn't be further from what sat across from him now. Vorn didn't radiate malice. He looked peaceful as though the chaos around them didn't exist.

All around them, the battlefield raged. Generals' roars and the thunder of magic echoed across the obsidian plain, where spells split the sky and metal clashed like roaring drums. Yet here, far from the eye of the storm, the two sat in a pocket of eerie quiet, as if the war itself was holding its breath.

Lucy swallowed hard.

'If he's going to kill me anyway... I might as well say it. All of it.'

"I'll explain," Lucy said, his voice hoarse. He paused, unsure how to even begin.

Vorn shifted where he sat, tucking his long arms over his knees, like a child preparing to hear a bedtime tale. It was so disarmingly innocent that Lucy nearly laughed, but the bitter knot in his chest stopped him.

"Go on," Vorn said. His voice was calm, deep, and smooth. His brown eyes, ageless and still, seemed to peer straight into Lucy's soul.

"I'll start at the beginning, if that's alright with you," Lucy spoke slowly, buying time.

Vorn gave a slow nod. "As you wish."

Lucy took a deep breath and looked past Vorn, into the flaming distance. "Before I was drafted into this madness... I was a man of many talents. Before graduating from high school, I got recruited into a high-tech firm. My learning capabilities caught someone's eye, and I ended up working a job most people would kill for."

His fists clenched. "I made more money than I knew what to do with. I could go anywhere, buy anything, live any life I wanted, and do you know what that gave me, Vorn?"

The old elf stroked his silver-flecked goatee, lips curling in amusement. "I do not, but if I had to guess... probably an endless stream of women."

Lucy let out a breathy chuckle. It died quickly.

"No," he said, voice low and cracking. "Nothing. It gave me absolutely nothing."

A tear slipped down his cheek as he met Vorn's gaze again. "Because before all the success, before I was anyone worth noticing, my parents died. Just like that. Gone. And no amount of money could fill the silence they left behind."

"I told myself that from then on, I'd value life. Every single one. That no matter how small or meaningless someone seemed, they had worth. They had a purpose."

Lucy's voice trembled.

"But the truth is, I got lonely. So goddamn lonely. I forced myself to walk to and from work every day, just to see people. To remind myself I was still human." He laughed bitterly. "That's how I died. I stopped to help a woman with her car, and she shot me. Left me bleeding out on the street."

He rubbed his abdomen, where the phantom pain still lingered.

"Next thing I knew, I heard a voice: 'Pick number 4000, Lucian Gray, designated to the Goddess of Rebirth.'" He said it with a bitter edge, the words like rust on his tongue.

Another explosion shook the battlefield, but neither of them flinched.

"I learned pretty quickly I was special. The only human in this war. The others treated me like dirt. I was nothing but an outlier to them, someone to fear. Only recently have I found people who see me as more than that. Who see past my race."

Lucy took another breath, then narrowed his eyes.

"And the second reason I'm special... is because I have the potential to rival the gods themselves."

He observed Vorn, but the elf didn't react. His expression remained unchanged, eyes half-lidded, like he was listening to the wind.

So Lucy kept going, his voice growing harder with each word.

"And that is the real problem. Because the gods are monsters. I was told this war was necessary, that the universe would fall into ruin at the hands of any other God. That Seraphine was its savior. That together, we'd build a Utopia."

He scoffed, shaking his head.

"What a load of bullshit."

Lucy's voice rose, trembling with rage. "I've watched an entire world be reduced to ash. Billions of lives lost in the name of a divine power struggle! They kill without blinking."

He pointed at the sky, hoping Seraphine was watching.

"Even if she's the 'least evil' among them, it doesn't matter. She lied, used me, and she turned me into something I swore I'd never be."

His voice cracked.

"So yeah, Vorn. I hate this war, and I think I have every damn reason to."

"I see," Vorn said quietly, eyes scanning Lucy again with that same curious glint, like a scholar studying a strange beast in a cage. "Then tell me... if you despise this war so deeply, why continue participating? Surely you've considered other means of escape. Like ending your own life."

Lucy blinked. For a moment, he wondered if he had misheard.

"Kill myself?" he repeated, voice low with disbelief. He narrowed his eyes. "I would never do such a thing. I value my life just as much as anyone else's. Maybe more."

He leaned forward slightly, eyes burning with conviction. "But since you asked, let me counter with my own question. How many lives could I save if I destroyed Ithriel's army? How many worlds wouldn't have to burn if I win this war?"

That response drew a laugh from Vorn—an aged, hearty sound that contrasted sharply with the howling chaos behind them.

"You speak as if that's within your grasp," Vorn chuckled. "You do realize that goal is utterly unattainable, yes?"

His bluntness struck a raw nerve. Lucy's jaw tightened, and his fists clenched at his sides.

"You're right," he said bitterly. "Fenara already showed me that."

His mind flashed back to that moment—the feral tigress pinning him with brutal efficiency, his body refusing to move, his strength meaningless in the face of true power.

Vorn gave a knowing nod. "Did she now? That woman never holds back. If you're standing here after crossing paths with her, I'd say that's an accomplishment."

He rubbed his goatee thoughtfully, then fixed his sharp gaze back on Lucy.

"But now that you know your goal is beyond reach, I'll ask again. Why keep fighting in this battle?"

Lucy gritted his teeth. 'What is it with this guy? Why does he want to know everything about me if he's just going to kill me after this?' Still, something about Vorn made it impossible not to answer.

With a sigh, Lucy raked his hand through his tangled black hair.

"...I probably shouldn't tell you this," he muttered. "But I swore I'd kill the gods. All of them."

Vorn's brows lifted slightly, but he said nothing.

"It happened during my fight with Fenara. I was broken. Bleeding. Barely clinging to life. And at that moment, I made a vow to end this war and ensure no one like them ever holds this kind of power again."

He paused, then spoke slower, more deliberately.

"I don't know what Seraphine is yet. She says she wants to rebuild the worlds after the war, and maybe that's true. But even if it is, it doesn't erase the blood on her hands, or the way she's using me."

His hands tightened into fists.

"So I'm using her right back. I need strength — more than any mortal should ever have. Enough to stand alone, even if it means playing along for now."

His voice lowered into a bitter whisper.

"If I ever learn she's no better than the rest... I won't hesitate."

Lucy had braced for outrage—for Vorn to call him a heretic, to lunge forward and strike him down for daring to speak such blasphemy. But the old elf didn't move. He sat motionless on the blood-soaked obsidian, his robe dusted with soot, his eyes turned inward as if searching for something lost in memory. 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝔀𝓮𝒃𝙣𝓸𝒗𝒆𝒍.𝙘𝒐𝒎

Silence stretched between them.

Finally, Vorn spoke, his voice soft but clear beneath the din of battle.

"The path you've chosen... will be the loneliest walk a man can take." He looked up, his expression unreadable. "A human who wishes to kill the gods. Maybe even the one he serves. You are a strange, fascinating creature, Lucy Gray."

He stood slowly, brushing the ash and gore from his long, icy blue robe. His frame was lean but sturdy, moving with the quiet grace of someone who had fought more wars than most could count.

"Enough talk," he said, voice steady. "Now prove to me... that you are worthy of killing the gods."