I was Drafted Into a War as the Only Human

The Cohort had marched through a tunnel of flame and wind carved into the Grey Sea’s crushing depths for hours.

It hadn’t been a long journey in distance, but in effort? Grueling, especially for the ones maintaining the corridor. With few beasts attacking, Lucy’s theory about the monsters fearing Eri began to feel less like guesswork and more like fact.

Now, they rested.

A narrow ledge jutted from the jagged cliffside of Caelgorr’s island, barely wide enough to hold all six of them. It was a precarious perch—wind-slick stone clinging to the mountain like a forgotten shelf.

Below stretched the endless expanse of the Grey Sea, rippling with a slow, oily unease.

Above them, fog twisted in slow, deliberate spirals, blanketing the upper half of the island in a roiling shroud of gloom. The clouds didn’t reach down this far, but Lucy could feel their weight pressing down from above, thick with quiet malice.

They hadn’t built a fire—none was needed. After hours of freezing exposure to the Grey Sea’s icy grip, even the cold night air of Seraph’s Hollow felt blissfully warm.

Everyone slept now, curled on patches of stone or against the cliff wall—everyone except Lucy.

He sat near the cliff’s edge, cross-legged, overlooking the abyss. His eyes were closed, but his mind stayed vigilant. Not too far below, a single ripple in the sea might spell doom. Too far above, a shift in the fog could mean the same. So he watched both—monsters below, Caelgorr’s presence above.

It might not have been fair that Lucy stood watch, but it was necessary. Only he, Fenric, and Carlos could patrol without drawing attention. Fenric used his nose, Lucy used an ability, and Carlos used both.

His soul thread ability stretched outward, invisible and silent, weaving through the night like a net cast into the dark. If anything nearby felt hatred, hunger, or bloodlust, it would sing to him like a plucked string.

The sea offered only silence tonight.

He exhaled slowly, wind brushing over his torn clothes. He hadn’t thought to bring replacements. Bruma had offered spares, but they were comically oversized. So here he sat, bare arms resting on bruised legs, the tatters of his shirt fluttering in the breeze.

He passed the time by looking inward.

Through concentration, Lucy could summon the "manuals" tied to each ability—a quirk of his Habitual Learner skill. Usually, he reread pages to glean new insight or find clever ways to improve. But tonight, he was doing something different.

He wasn’t just reading.

He was trying to understand.

In his old life, Lucy could master anything with enough time. But here, he relied on divine mechanics, triggering growth through repetition and experience. For example, Infernal Flow had only unlocked 2 out of 67 pages. He needed to feel that fire again, let it sear his skin, to learn more.

But... what if he didn’t?

What if he could learn through understanding alone? What if he unraveled mana at its root—dissected its essence until experience became optional?

That was the theory.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t working.

He frowned, pushing his mana in different directions, trying to feel its shape, color, density—anything. But it remained slippery, just beyond complete comprehension. He let out a soft sigh and redirected his thoughts to his achievements.

Completed Manuals:

Fire Cylinder: 18/18

Double Strike: 52/52

Wind Manipulation: 27/27

Crucible of Grace: 38/38

Atomic Radiation: 10/10

Soulthread Reading: 16/16

In Progress:

Water Manipulation: 4/19

Earth Bullets: 3/17

Mana Circulation: 38/100

Infernal Flow: 2/67

Mass Teleportation: 130/150

Illusionary Fog: 4/42

His mana circulation had soared since entering Seraph’s Hollow. He remembered being stuck around 15—now he was well past 30. He felt the difference. Strength, speed, control—it was like his blood had changed.

Even Mass Teleportation had grown. It had advanced six pages since he last checked—two more than expected. He figured Seraphine’s teleportation pods must’ve used similar magic, nudging the manual forward.

Then his gaze settled on Double Strike and Atomic Radiation. Those two had saved his life repeatedly. Yet...

He couldn’t shake the memory of Fenara easily dodging his double-hit.

The move was predictable. Fog warriors, sure—it cut them down. The Leviathan, yes—it helped finish the job. But against real tacticians? Who knew him?

It wouldn’t be enough.

He shook his head and muttered, "Maybe I need an ice build... or something sick like lightning."

He chuckled at the thought, then remembered how much pain he’d probably endure to unlock a single page of either. Still, the idea stuck. An arsenal of elemental melee spells, built around getting up close and melting through enemies? That sounded fun.

His eyes fell once more to Infernal Flow, and he smiled faintly. The raging blue fire that had nearly burned him alive on two occasions was something Lucy wanted badly.

"If I could part the sea with Fire Cylinder... imagine what I could do with that." However, he knew it was a long shot. Adgrun made it clear he would not give him the ability, so it was hopeless unless he mastered the ins and outs of mana.

’Stingy bastard.’

He then let the manuals vanish from his mind’s eye. His lids were heavier now. He groaned and turned toward Fenric, still asleep with his arms folded, ears twitching.

A few shakes and nudges later, the silver-haired wolfkin opened a single eye.

"Time already?" he muttered, voice gravelly with sleep.

"Yeah," Lucy whispered, standing up with a groan. "Your turn to stare into the void."

Fenric yawned, stretched like a cat, and rose to take over. Carlos followed a moment later, his soft pads barely making a sound on the stone. The pup sat beside Fenric, alert.

Lucy lay back against the cliff wall, letting the solid rock cradle his body. He felt the mist-dampened stone at his back, the slow thrum of mana through the air, and the distant growl of the sea beneath.

He wasn’t afraid—just... wired. Like the cliff, the sea, everything around him was waiting to break loose.

One final thought drifted across his mind before sleep claimed him:

Tomorrow, we slay Caelgorr.