I was Drafted Into a War as the Only Human

Chaos had erupted in the temple of Nyxaris.

Caelgorr the Hollow had returned from the dead, a towering nightmare of shadow and flesh looming before the shattered statue of the goddess. His body was a grotesque blend of ink-black muscle and smoke, with thick limbs writhing from his chest like tendrils of hate. The eyes along his front pulsed—open and watching—while those on his back remained sealed shut, as if hiding some deeper curse.

The temple trembled with every shift of his monstrous weight. Cracked braziers flickered madly, casting jittery light across fractured columns and blood-slick floors. Each flare of flame painted Caelgorr in jagged silhouettes—his split-open face, crowned with curled horns, looked carved from nightmares.

The air grew colder. Not wind-chill cold—but marrow-deep, spirit-numbing cold. It clung to Lucy’s skin, leeching warmth as Caelgorr stirred.

Lucy activated his Soulthread.

Emotion surged into him from every direction, each thread humming like a taut wire. Panic throbbed from Gindu, and pain and coldness were felt from Eri. Llarm’s fear was tempered by resolve, and Bruma—Bruma still pulsed with life, barely. He felt her collapse against a shattered wall, blood flowing freely from the stump of her arm, her breath shallow but present.

But two threads stood out.

Caelgorr’s: a black maelstrom of hatred, carnage, and gleeful destruction.

Fenric’s: not fear, not rage—ecstasy. Wild, unhinged joy, hunger sharpening his every movement like a blade. The scent of Caelgorr’s black ichor had driven him into bloodlust.

If Lucy could feel his own thread, he’d know it was vibrating with dread.

Then he felt the pressure—the fog, trying to force its way back inside, like hands pressing against a glass wall.

In one swift motion, Lucy ignited the Atomic Radiation churning in his bones, the Crucible of Grace flaring within his chest. Wind howled around him as he drew the storm inward, channeling the burning, healing fire through every fiber of his being.

His body seared—then mended.

He roared and released it.

The wind exploded outward in a dome of radiant force, his Atomic Wind infused with radiation, scouring the creeping fog from the chamber like a divine purge. It hissed, clawed, and then evaporated, banished from the temple entirely.

Caelgorr screamed.

A soul-shattering, jagged noise that cracked the air and sent pebbles tumbling from the ceiling. In response, a swarm of blackened limbs lashed toward them—more fluid, more frenzied than before.

Lucy dove, the claw swiping the air above his back.

The others scattered, barely avoiding the onslaught.

Then came the laugh.

Fenric.

Wild silver eyes gleamed in the flickering light as he charged ahead, a blur of muscle and madness. His blade flashed, hacking at Caelgorr’s midsection with a bloodthirsty cry. Carlos darted at his side, a streak of shadow, black fur, and silent speed, his fangs bared.

Caelgorr didn’t flinch.

A massive arm swiveled and slammed into Fenric with the force of a battering ram. The impact cracked stone, but Fenric twisted in midair, absorbing the blow with a grunt, and landed on all fours, crouched like an animal, grinning, blood smeared across his face.

Carlos shot beneath the beast’s legs, jaws snapping onto one of Caelgorr’s ankles. Black ichor burst free—but the beast lifted his foot, ready to crush the pup.

"No, you don’t!" Llarm’s voice rang out.

A gust of wind spiraled from above, yanking Carlos away just in time. The shadow pup tumbled to safety, growling, before diving back into the fray.

Lucy seized the opening.

He thrust out his hand—Fire Cylinder igniting with a roar. The flaming spiral barreled through the air and struck Caelgorr square in the midsection. It detonated with a concussive blast, forcing the creature back a step—flesh blackening, smoke rising from the wound.

But Caelgorr didn’t fall.

Instead, he let out a low hiss, limbs flexing like a spider uncoiling.

And then—silence.

For a heartbeat, all was still.

Then two shapes blurred around him like twin blades: Eri from the left, Fenric from the right.

Eri’s shortsword gleamed, her movements sharper, stronger. Death had strengthened her. Her blade sought bone and sinew, slashing across Caelgorr’s side, cutting through tendons like thread.

Fenric didn’t strike with technique—he tore. His blade hacked at anything that bled, wild grunts of effort punctuating every swing. Caelgorr’s ichor splashed like oil under pressure, feeding the frenzy.

Lucy felt the feedback through Soulthread—pain, fire, hunger, madness.

But Caelgorr was no simple beast.

The eyes along his frontside snapped wide.

Dozens of them.

A scream ruptured the air—not sound but force, an invisible wave that hurled Eri and Fenric back like dolls.

Eri hit the ground hard, sliding across bloodied tile. Fenric landed on his feet, laughing—until a black fist slammed into his side, burying him in rubble.

Carlos darted before him to intercept another strike. Lucy and Llarm readied their wind to help, but their spells collided, causing a malfunction.

Carlos was crushed beneath Caelgorr’s descending claw.

Lucy’s heart seized.

The pup didn’t cry out. Instead, Lucy heard his bones snap and his presence vanish under the weight. Their soul thread had been severed.

But Fenric didn’t even flinch.

He lunged past Carlos’s broken body, eyes locked on the bleeding monster, blade raised in hunger.

Lucy’s hands clenched, and the fire in his chest surged.

The death of Carlos ripped through Lucy’s Soulthread like a lightning strike—jagged, sudden, final.

But grief was for later.

Now, there was only war.

"Together!" Lucy barked, his voice sharp and commanding over the howl of his wind. "We drop him now!"

Caelgorr twisted, a storm of black limbs slashing down from above, but the cohort surged as one.

Gindu struck first, bursting from the left like a battering ram, his blue scales gleaming as they sharpened mid-charge. He slammed into Caelgorr’s side, carving deep lines across the beast’s torso. Black ichor sprayed like oil under pressure, hissing as it hit the temple floor.

At the same time, Llarm took the air, the wind wrapping around his arms and legs like green lightning. He dove in low, dragging a razor current across Caelgorr’s front, aiming for the cluster of eyes. One of them burst, the light inside sizzling out in a shriek.

"Lucy, mark me!" Llarm shouted.

Lucy raised a hand—Soulthread flaring between them. He felt Llarm’s focus and courage and launched a fire cylinder behind him. The flames chased Llarm’s wind trail like a guided missile, slamming into Caelgorr’s leg just as Llarm soared past. The beast staggered.

Fenric was already moving.

He didn’t speak. He didn’t need to.

The blood in the air—Carlos’s, Gindu’s, Caelgorr’s—had driven him into a frenzy. His silver hair was wild, and his eyes gleamed with violent hunger as he dove beneath Caelgorr’s twisting limbs, carving upwards with his blade. He was a storm of metal and bloodlust, targeting every open wound, every pulsing eye.

Lucy was the anchor.

He couldn’t let the fog in. His Atomic Wind stayed strong, burning across the battlefield, keeping them clean, clear, and alive.

And still, he fought.

Radiation burned under his skin, veins glowing faint gold from the Crucible of Grace. He dashed in low under a flailing limb, feinted left, and missed his strike on purpose.

"Double Strike," he whispered.

The invisible second punch followed, laced with atomic radiation, and hit true, slamming into Caelgorr’s chest and knocking the beast back a full step, the first time he’d truly been pushed.

But it wasn’t enough.

Caelgorr roared, a deep, grating, inhuman sound.

He shifted—his front eyes closing, back ones opening. The moment passed, and his body blurred into smoke.

"Shit—he’s phasing!" Lucy yelled, stepping back.

The mist clawed harder at the temple’s edges.

His wind barrier screamed.

And then—

Caelgorr reappeared behind Gindu.

Too late.

A spear-like limb plunged through the dragonkin’s gut. Gindu’s eyes widened, then narrowed in a snarl. With the last of his strength, he wrapped both arms around the limb and drove his scales into it, exploding it in a shower of ichor before being tossed aside, unmoving.

"Gindu!" Llarm shouted—and paid for the distraction.

A black arm snared his leg mid-flight and smashed him into a wall. He bounced once, then fell hard. The wind around him stuttered, then vanished.

"Damn it! No!" Lucy pivoted, but another limb came from the side.

Fenric, now soaked in Caelgorr’s blood, didn’t stop. He launched at the beast’s chest, blade spinning—

But a lash caught him midair and slammed him into the ground so hard the marble cracked. He groaned, then rose again—unstable, twitching, but still laughing.

Lucy dashed to cover him—he raised a flame, fired it low to force Caelgorr’s stance wide, and moved to grab Fenric—

Another limb.

He caught it.

Atomic Radiation surged from his arm into the limb, melting it at the joint. The Crucible burned his ribs in return, but he stayed standing.

Fenric didn’t even blink. He lunged toward another open wound on Caelgorr’s side.

Then—

A massive leg lifted.

Stomp.

Lucy reached too late.

Fenric didn’t scream.

He simply stopped moving, buried beneath the monster’s weight.

Lucy staggered back.

Only him.

Only the wind.

Caelgorr’s chest rose and fell, his wounds oozed, and his eyes burned. A dozen limbs still writhed across his massive form.

He stepped forward, fog licking behind him like the tongue of a beast.

And Lucy—bleeding, shaking, scorched from inside out—stood firm beneath the flickering braziers of Nyxaris’s broken temple.

He didn’t retreat.

Didn’t pray.

Didn’t speak.

He rolled his shoulders.

"Alright," he said, voice low.

"Just you and me, then."