I awoke with a terrible headache. My mind felt like it was splitting in two. The pressure behind my eyes made it hard to focus. Blinking the sleep from my eyes, I saw that I had found myself in a small room. With a single bed and a nightstand with a glass of water on top. Sitting up, I grabbed the cup and took a nice, long sip to clear my parched throat.
"What is the situation with my body?" I asked the disembodied voice within my mind to gain a clearer picture.
"Everything is fine, boy, but what the hell is wrong with your core?" Aeron's voice was laced with confusion.
"What do you mean?" Looking internally, everything looked as it should. My source was stable, and I saw no change with the rings surrounding it. "Everything looks normal to me."
"You call these parasitic rings normal? What in tarnation has happened in my few thousand years of slumber?" His choice of words brought new questions to my mind. What did he mean by parasitic? In my old life, we only had access to prana, so I always assumed that the rings were normal. But Aeron was a native of this world, and even he was confused. What did this all mean? "For now, I will continue to observe it. The runic script it is comprised of is quite dense, so it will take a while to decode."
Taking his word for it, I chose not to worry for now. I had far too much on my plate for something that abstract, at least for now. At this point, I felt strong enough to leave the room and see what I missed. Opening the door, I was met face to face with a startled nurse. Her eyes widened when she saw me awake. Realizing her lapse in etiquette, she bowed low. "Lord Drakkus," she mumbled under her breath.
Old instincts took over as I said. "Report," my voice was cold and indifferent, like a commander speaking to a soldier. Realizing the harshness in my tone, it was unfortunate that I could not take my words back. I saw the nurse flinch when she heard it. Only now did I get a good look at her. She had light brown hair tied into a bun on top of her head.
Her hands tightened slightly as she straightened her posture, clearly trying to compose herself.
"My lord," she said, her voice still wavering despite her effort to steady it. "You were unconscious for three days following the final trial. The officers ordered that you be placed under observation due to… complications."
"Complications?" I repeated.
Her eyes flickered briefly toward my chest before she quickly looked away.
"Yes, my lord. Your condition was… unusual. The healers were unable to identify the cause of your symptoms. At one point, your body temperature dropped to near freezing before rising again moments later. Several of the senior healers were called to examine you."
I frowned slightly. That would explain the lingering discomfort.
"And the trials?" I asked, eager to gain more information on what happened.
"You passed, my lord," she said quickly. "Your entire squad did. In fact…" she hesitated for a moment, as if unsure whether she should continue.
"Speak." I did not have the patience to wait for her to build up the confidence to reply.
She swallowed before continuing.
"Your presence was personally requested by the commanding officers."
Now that caught my attention. "Requested?" I asked for clarification.
"Yes, my lord. The moment the trial concluded, orders were issued that you were to be brought directly to the command hall once you regained consciousness."
Before I could respond, Aeron's voice echoed in the back of my mind.
"How interesting."
I ignored him, opting to focus on the conversation.
"Where are my companions?"
"They have already been assigned temporary quarters within the barracks," she replied. "They have been asking about your condition repeatedly."
That sounded about right.
I stepped past her into the hallway. The scent of antiseptic herbs lingered in the air, mixed with the faint metallic tang of blood. Rows of identical doors lined the corridor, each likely housing another injured recruit.
"Lead me to this commanding officer," I said.
"My lord, you should rest—"
"I said lead me." My tone grew colder as my patience was tested once more.
She flinched again but nodded quickly. "As you command."
The walk through the fortress only reinforced my earlier impression of Wunderberg. Every movement was precise. Every soldier we passed carried themselves with discipline. Even the servants moved with purpose, as if the entire structure functioned like a well-oiled war machine. Eventually, we arrived at a set of massive double doors guarded by two fully armored soldiers. Their gazes shifted toward me the moment I approached, their posture straightening slightly.
"State your business," one of them said. Before the nurse could respond, I spoke.
"Drakkus El Drakkar. I was told I was expected." The two guards exchanged a brief glance before one of them knocked twice against the door.
A moment later, a voice called out from within. "Enter."
The doors opened, giving me a view of the inside. The room beyond was far larger than I had expected. Maps covered nearly every wall, each one marked with various symbols and lines indicating troop movements and supply routes. At the center of the room stood a large war table, its surface littered with documents and miniature formations. Behind it stood the man I recognized from the trials. The scarred officer. Up close, his presence was even more oppressive. His gaze was sharp, calculating, the kind of look that dissected a man in seconds. He wore the official clothes of a 1st Legion officer. With a black fur cloak over his red uniform. His chest was adorned with many medals. While the emblem of a dog's skull with a sword through its head indicated his rank and position. He was the first sergeant directly under General Johan Von Creel, the infamous Bloody Hound of the empire.
"So," he said, his voice calm but heavy with authority. "You're the one who caused all that trouble." His voice was gravely like someone who has smoked a pipe for years.
I met his gaze without hesitation. "If you're referring to the fire," I replied, "then yes."
A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.
"Confident." His eyes narrowed slightly. "Good. You'll need it."
He stepped around the table, stopping a few paces in front of me. "Drakkus El Drakkar," he said. "From this moment onward…" There was a brief pause. Then: "You are hereby appointed Captain of the 1st Legion."
I froze where I stood; my years of military experience made me aware that this did not make any sense. No new soldier, no matter how good, would be promoted this quickly. The entire situation reeked of a setup. "If I may ask, sir, what is the reason for the promotion. As far as I understand, I only recently joined the ranks." My voice was even and calm to hide the storm brewing in my chest.
A sinister smile that made me shiver graced his lips as he stared at me like a predator. "You can thank your father for that boy. What better way to raise a strong lion than to throw him to the wolves?" Cold sweat poured down my back as I knew exactly what he meant. Something similar had happened in my previous life. Where, in an attempt to ostracise me and punish me for my insubordination. My father gave me unwanted privileges that made my fellow soldiers hate me. And now it seems that history is repeating itself.
"Good, you understand your situation. But you are overlooking something." Aeron spoke in my mind.
'And what would that be?' I was eager to hear his opinion. If there was one thing my military service has taught me, it was to listen to the wisdom of your betters.
"What you have been given is a double-edged sword. Yet right now, all you see is the edge pointed at you, not what you can gain from it. What better way to become the best than being two steps ahead of everyone else?" His dry laugh, like the rattling of bones, echoed in my head. A light smile spread across my lips as I could not help but agree. One thing was for certain: at least it wouldn't be boring.