I was Drafted Into a War as the Only Human

The palace held its breath.

A stunned silence stretched through the vast marble chamber, so thick it seemed to muffle even time itself. Rows of magical beings—elves, beastkin, giants, dragonkin, and ogres alike—stood frozen in place, their mouths agape as if the words "Divine" and "Mythic" had knocked the air from their lungs.

No one had expected this.

Especially not from a human.

On her elevated throne, the Goddess of Rebirth lounged with practiced ease, her expression a picture of playful detachment. She twirled a lock of silver hair around her finger, a secret smile tugging at her lips, as if this turn of events was simply another delightful surprise in a play she'd already seen.

But across the hall, Darfin looked like his entire understanding of the world had shattered.

His usually pristine posture had unraveled. Eyes wide with disbelief, he muttered incoherently under his breath, his gaze fixed on Lucy like he'd just watched a squirrel bench-press a mountain.

Yet for all the astonishment painted across divine and magical faces alike, none were more shocked than the Human at the center of it all.

'Divine and Mythic?' Lucy blinked rapidly, trying to anchor himself in reality. 'Does that mean I'm... some sort of god?'

The very thought startled him more than the result itself.

But after a few stunned heartbeats, his mind wandered, unprompted, toward a far more pressing question:

'If I am a god... can I be the god of money?'

A beat passed.

And then—he laughed.

It burst from him unexpectedly, rich and loud, the kind of laugh that bounced off polished stone and vaulted ceilings like an echo from another world. He wasn't laughing at the absurdity of his powers, or the fear blanketing the crowd—he was laughing because he found himself hilarious.

But to everyone else in the hall, it sounded like something far more sinister.

Magical creatures recoiled.

Some flinched.

Others took half-steps back, their hands twitching toward their weapons as if preparing for Lucy to grow wings and unleash a black beam of death straight through the roof.

He didn't notice.

He was too busy grinning at his inner joke, unaware he'd just sent a chill down the spine of half the palace.

Darfin, now painfully aware of how ridiculous he must've looked, snapped his jaw shut and straightened his posture. He cleared his throat with a short, sharp cough that echoed uncomfortably through the stunned silence.

"Now that Pick Four-Thousand has completed his testing," he said stiffly, "we will divide into groups for training."

He hesitated, glancing at Seraphine as if silently begging her to take over. "Uh, my lady... how would you like to split them?"

Apparently, someone with Divine magic power and a Mythic ability was enough to completely derail even Darfin Valmys—the ever-composed, ever-elegant head general of the elves.

Lucy couldn't help but grin, arms folded, eyes twinkling with barely disguised amusement. 'Not so high-and-mighty now, are you, Mr. Perfect Hair?'

Seraphine tilted her head, resting her chin on one delicate hand, her silver curls tumbling down her shoulder as she considered. After a brief pause, her eyes lit up with decision.

"Let's see... I want Lucian Gray, Llarm Leoceran, Gindu, and Eri to train under you, Darfin." Her voice was almost sing-song, clearly entertained by the reaction she was about to get. "The rest of the group assignments and instructor details will be posted within the hour. Please enjoy the feast prepared in the banquet hall for now."

She extended one graceful finger toward a side corridor of gleaming white marble. The grand doors at the end of it swung open with a dramatic flair, revealing rows upon rows of tables piled high with glistening fruit, roasted meats, honey-drizzled pastries, and endless silver platters of delicacies from across the realm.

Darfin's jaw visibly clenched.

It looked like he was about to protest—his mouth opened slightly—but he quickly shut it again. His lips curled inward as he muttered, "Why do I get the human?"

Lucy didn't hear a word.

His gaze had locked on the food like a starving wolf spotting a herd of sheep. His pupils practically dilated. 'I've never seen so much food in my life! A feast. It's going to be a feast!'

He took off toward the banquet hall without hesitation, mouth agape and a thin line of drool forming at the corner of his lips.

But he didn't get far.

Just a few steps in, something yanked him backward by the collar of his shirt, lifting him off his stride with a sudden jolt.

"What the—?!" Lucy spun around, eyes wide.

Darfin stood behind him, one hand clenched around the fabric of his collar, his expression dark and simmering with barely restrained annoyance.

"What do you think you're doing?" Darfin asked, voice low and sharp as a blade drawn in the dark.

Lucy blinked, then raised an eyebrow, utterly unfazed. "Uh... going to enjoy the delicious, magical, free food? What else?"

Darfin stared at him in disbelief, then let out a slow, condescending laugh. It was the kind of laugh that dripped disdain and made you feel like you'd just said something sincerely, unforgivably stupid.

"You didn't listen, did you?" he said coolly. "The Lady assigned you to me. That means you eat when I tell you to eat."

Without another word, Darfin turned on his heel and began walking off the platform, dragging Lucy behind him by the collar like a stubborn cat on a leash.

"No! The food!" Lucy cried, legs flailing in protest. 'I was going to eat so much! Why is fate so cruel?!'

After being dragged against his will, Lucy soon found himself outside in a massive open-air corridor. Though technically outdoors, the area was still part of the palace—its high alabaster walls enclosing the space on all four sides like a divine courtyard. The grass beneath his feet was impossibly green, like it had never known drought or decay, and it gave off a faint, sweet scent—fresh, almost floral, like rain had fallen only moments before.

Somewhere in the distance, a soft breeze rustled through unseen leaves, carrying with it the subtle and serene melodic chime of distant bells or wind harps.

Above, the sky was a flawless blue, unmarred by clouds or sun—just a perfect stretch of color, as if painted by a god with a steady hand.

In front of him stood Darfin, radiating authority like a heatwave. The other three chosen were to his left and right: Llarm, Eri, and Gindu.

Llarm was still slouched forward, arms limp at his sides, clearly mortified from being humiliated in front of everyone. Eri kept glancing around nervously, her fingers twisting the hem of her robe. Lucy didn't blame her—none of them had been told why they were chosen.

'Probably because we're the most promising,' Lucy thought with some pride... then remembered Llarm's disastrous moment at the crystal and winced. 'Okay, maybe not that.'

But the biggest surprise was Gindu.

Gone was the jittery, stammering dragon who had trembled through the ceremony. In his place stood a tall, scaled figure with his chest puffed out and tail curled confidently behind him. It was like someone had flipped a switch.

Lucy squinted at him. 'Confidence is magic.'

Then another thought crept into his mind, unwelcome and eerie in its weight: 'Where even are we?'

One moment, he'd been in an infinite black void, getting stared down by literal gods. Next, he was in this pristine palace, under the command of a grumpy elf.

'Man, that guy is scary,' Lucy thought, glancing at Darfin and wincing instinctively.

Still, he mustered enough courage to speak. "Forgive me, sir, for my incompetence. As you know, I'm only a lowly human, but could you tell me where exactly we are?"

To his surprise, it wasn't Darfin who responded.

Instead, Gindu puffed out his chest and spoke with a voice dripping in exaggerated confidence. "Don't you know, Human? We are in the Goddess's Palace." He huffed like his response answered everything.

Lucy blinked at him. 'It's crazy what a little ego boost can do to someone.'

He crossed his arms. "No shit. But where is that? What does that even mean?"

Gindu bristled, offended, his tail twitching in irritation, but before he could retort, Darfin cut in, voice smooth and cool.

"The human raises a fair point."

Lucy blinked. Had he just been praised?

Darfin continued. "This palace is the Goddess's sanctuary—our base in the war against the other three gods. Think of it as an isolated world, a pocket dimension forged by Seraphine herself."

Lucy nodded slowly. That answered a few things, but not everything.

"Okay, that makes sense," he said, "but what's the point of this war? If I've been drafted into it, I'd like to know what I'm fighting for."

This time, Darfin remained quiet.

Llarm spoke, his voice low and tired, his eyes fixed on the ground. "I'd like to know, too."

Then Eri chimed in, her voice high and anxious but clear. "Me too."

Darfin sighed. It was the kind of sigh that said I've had to explain this a thousand times, and every time it got worse.

"This war," he said, "is about power. The gods each have their vision of how to run the universe. Our Lady, Seraphine, believes in rebirth and renewal. The others don't, so we fight by conquering planets, thereby strengthening the gods. The more territory a god controls, the more influence they have over reality."

He let out another tired breath, as if saying it out loud drained him.

Lucy nodded slowly. "Okay, but... why me? Why should I help Seraphine? She's great—beautiful, charming, ethereal, but why should I pick her side?"

Darfin closed his eyes and exhaled through his nose. His voice was quiet but firm. "Because you have to. The moment she reincarnated you, you became one of her children. And her children obey her."

The weight of those words hit Lucy like a cold gust. 'Forced to? She can't force me to do anything! I mean...' His thoughts trailed off, bouncing between defiance and doubt.

And then, like his brain had chosen the dumbest possible escape route from existential panic, another thought surfaced:

"I was picked four thousand."

He stared into the middle distance, deadpan.

"They were probably one sentient rock away from summoning a pebble instead."

The corner of his mouth twitched. Not because it was funny—okay, maybe a little—but because that one stupid fact somehow made everything else feel more real.

Then Darfin added, with the slightest flicker of a smile, "Also... do you want any of the other gods controlling all of reality?"

Lucy's memory flashed back to the void, to those inhuman figures' cold, calculating stares. Their presence had pressed on his soul like iron weights.

His skin crawled.

'Yeah, no. Maybe fighting for a beautiful lady isn't so bad after all.'