I was Drafted Into a War as the Only Human

"Come find me."

Lucy shot upright, drenched in a cold sweat. Darkness wrapped around him like a heavy shroud. The ground beneath was covered in silver grass that shimmered faintly, bone-white trees clawed upward toward a starless sky, and the soft snores of his four companions filled the stillness around him.

’I’ll find you, alright—just to kick your ass when I do.’

His heartbeat pounded against his skull like war drums.

The dream had returned. The same damn nightmare—haunted faces of those he’d killed in the battle against Ithriel’s forces, all swirling around a single, ethereal voice. A woman’s. One who always ended with those exact words.

He let out a breath and scanned the camp. The fire burned low but steadily, casting long shadows against the strange, moonless landscape. A short distance away, perched on a low hill, sat Fenric—alert, twitching, feral even at rest. His wild eyes snapped toward Lucy as he stirred, but quickly softened with recognition.

"Tap me out, yeah?" Fenric muttered, voice gritty with fatigue. "I’m fucking exhausted." 𝑓𝘳𝘦𝑒𝑤𝑒𝘣𝘯ℴ𝘷𝘦𝓁.𝑐𝑜𝑚

Lucy stretched his arms, jaw cracking as he yawned. "Yeah, sure. Not like I was sleeping anyway."

He trudged up the hill, boots crunching softly against the grass, the air cool against his sweat-soaked skin.

But just as he reached Fenric’s side, a chorus of howls shattered the night.

They weren’t distant.

"Rain check on that, Fenric," Lucy muttered, already forming a plan. "Sounds like some of your cousins want to play."

Fenric grinned through his exhaustion, pupils dilating with bloodlust. "Finally."

Lucy’s fingers danced as he summoned wind, swirling it in a tight spiral around his slumbering squad. The gusts rattled them like angry spirits as he barked, "Wake up!"

Eri jolted up first, launching into a crouch like a startled cat, blades already halfway drawn.

Gindu stirred, groaning as he sat up, then abruptly snapped to his feet. The blue scales along his arms flared with a faint shimmer. "Battle time, wyrmlings," he announced, grinning like it was his birthday.

Bruma, already beside them with an axe in hand, nodded to the woods. "Shadow wolves," she said, her voice low but calm. "They’re not dangerous one-on-one. But they hunt in packs."

Lucy’s eyes narrowed. "Do they have any abilities I should know about?"

"They do," Bruma replied. "Soulthread Reading. They can read their enemy’s emotional state and intent, making them good at countering hesitation."

Lucy clenched his jaw. Great.

Just then, the wind he’d cast toward Llarm fizzled. The spell dropped entirely.

"Five more minutes," Llarm mumbled from inside his sleeping bag, not even bothering to open his eyes. "The hero needs his beauty sleep."

This idiot, Lucy thought, suppressing a groan.

A loud CRACK rang out.

"Wake up, you idiot!" Eri barked, slamming the hilt of her blade into Llarm’s head.

"OW!" Llarm sprang up, clutching his skull. "Is that any way to treat the amazing hero?!"

Before Lucy could respond, six shadowy figures crept into the firelight’s edge—silent, slinking, spectral.

The flames illuminated their forms: sleek black fur rippling like liquid ink, claws made of condensed shadow, and eyes that shimmered like Nyxaris’s gaze—hungry, alien, cold. Their manes writhed like smoke. Two stood out—one massive, the other smaller than the rest by a large margin, but no less ominous.

The fire didn’t flicker when they moved. It recoiled.

"Well, hero," Lucy called, wind circling his hands like a restless storm. "We could really use your help."

Llarm dusted himself off with dramatic flair. "Yeah, yeah. Just one night," he grumbled. "Is a peaceful sleep too much to ask?"

The Shadow Wolves pounced.

Like liquid night, they scattered across the silver grass, each one zeroing in on a member of the cohort with terrifying speed.

Lucy found himself face-to-face with the largest of the pack—a towering creature nearly ten feet tall at the shoulder. Its black fur shimmered like oil, and its mane coiled around it like writhing smoke. The firelight barely touched it, as if the night shielded the beast.

’Just my luck,’ Lucy thought as he dodged a massive paw that came crashing down. The blow obliterated the earth where he’d been standing, spraying shards of silver grass and cracked white stone like shrapnel.

The wolf moved like a living shadow—fluid, boneless, unpredictable.

’These things move so weird. Like they’re not even solid...’

Lucy’s wind barrier hummed tightly around him, calibrated not to interfere with Llarm’s magic. Without it, he might not have noticed the wolf’s movements. It vanished between swipes—its form flickering between tangible and incorporeal.

’And this bastard reads my emotions. Soulthread Reading, Bruma said. So if I’m flustered, it knows to strike. If I’m calm, it knows I’m planning something. Great. It’s got a damn cheat code to my brain!’

The wolf lunged. Lucy lashed out with his sword, only for the beast to leap into a backward somersault—midair—and twist like a ribbon. Its hind legs whipped toward him in a vicious axe kick.

Lucy barely sidestepped, wind pushing at his boots for extra momentum.

Too close—

The wolf’s head snapped around midair—unnaturally, like a twisted doll—and its fanged jaws lunged at his side. There was no time to block.

With a snap of his fingers, Lucy activated the fire cylinder on his free arm. A jet of flame surged point-blank into the beast’s open mouth.

The wolf shrieked—more like a metallic screech than a canine yelp—and recoiled. Smoke curled from its snout, but the flames didn’t linger. They were swallowed by its shadowy body and snuffed out almost instantly.

Lucy gritted his teeth. ’It doesn’t even burn properly?’

It didn’t hesitate. The wolf was lunging again, dark claws slicing toward him in a flurry.

The two clashed like animals—wind and steel against shadow and fang. Lucy ducked, slashed, feinted, and even tossed pebbles mid-swing to bait the wolf’s attention. But every time he gained ground, it read his rhythm like sheet music, adapting faster than any normal beast.

It circled him, breathing heavy, movements twitchy but deliberate—like a predator savoring the hunt.

Around him, the others had already finished off their opponents. Gindu stood with arms crossed, blue scales shining under the firelight. Bruma leaned on her axe. Eri cleaned her blade with a cloth. Even Llarm was watching with a yawn.

’Perfect,’ Lucy thought grimly. ’Everyone’s done except the captain. Who’s currently getting clowned by a goddamn smoke-dog.’

Across the field, Fenric was locked in a furious duel with the smallest wolf—a barely foot-tall creature that moved like a phantom on speed. Fenric’s blades flashed, but the tiny wolf darted in and out, snapping with needle-like fangs. His eyes burned with wild frustration.

Lucy grunted as the big wolf slammed into him again. He rolled back, boots skidding across the dirt, then flipped to his feet. The fire cylinder hissed low, nearly out of fuel.

’Alright... think, Lucy. Think fast. If it reads emotions, I just need to confuse it. Keep my signals mixed. Flustered, calm, furious, terrified—give it emotional whiplash.’

He inhaled, focused.

Then he smiled.

’Let the performance begin.’