Lucy stood frozen in the Grand Hall, stunned by what he'd just heard. All around him, the other races erupted into thunderous cheers. Even Llarm joined in, fist raised, face glowing with excitement.
'War!? I can't fight in a war—I'm weak as hell!'
He tried to steady his breathing, mentally clawing for any reassurance.
'Wait… she said the best 5,000 soldiers. There's no way I'm part of that—I got picked 4,000 this year!'
Relief washed over him like a warm tide. 'Oh, thank god. Dodged that flaming deathball.'
But before he could get too comfortable, a single raised hand cut through the noise like a blade.
Darfin had stepped forward.
The cheers around Lucy died quickly, first in ripples, then all at once, the crowd fell silent. Even the giants and ogres quieted at his presence.
Darfin stood tall, his posture flawless, expression unreadable. His golden hair shimmered under the chandeliers, catching the light like a blade unsheathed.
He didn't need to shout. His voice carried on sheer authority.
"Comrades," he began, "as you've heard, this war will take place on a distant planet. Unfortunately, due to its unstable nature, it cannot withstand the presence of more than 5,000 soldiers per side."
His tone was calm, clipped, and measured like a blade strike.
"After negotiation, Lady Seraphine and the God of Control reached an agreement: each side will send their strongest 5,000."
He paused, then gestured to the left side of the hall. A massive scroll, easily fifty feet long, hung unrolled on the wall. Names shimmered faintly across its surface in glowing silver ink.
"If your name is listed there, you have been chosen to fight. If not, do not despair. Your role is no less important. Train those selected. Support them. Stand with us, even from afar."
Darfin stepped back without another word, returning to his place among the generals.
The generals stood tall among the sea of warriors, their presence casting long shadows that sent a chill down Lucy's spine.
Each one represented a different race.
Beside Darfin stood a giant—easily the most enormous being Lucy had ever laid eyes on. The creature's head nearly brushed the domed ceiling of the palace, towering over the others at what had to be over three hundred feet tall.
'Holy crap. That's not a general—that's a skyscraper.'
The ogre general wasn't exactly comforting either. Standing nearly twenty feet tall, his dark green skin stretched over muscles that looked capable of lifting a mountain, and throwing it.
Then there was the Beastkin general: sleek, deadly, and unnervingly calm. Her body was lined with cheetah-like spots, her short brown hair barely grazing her chin. Her eyes held the kind of focus that made Lucy flinch just looking at her.
And then the Dragonkin.
Unlike Gindu, who was roughly human-sized and, at times, even approachable, this general was not someone Lucy wanted to meet in a dark alley. Easily ten feet tall, his crimson scales jutted outward like jagged armor, catching the light in sharp glints. Every part of him looked built for war.
'Why does this feel like I'm looking at the gods all over again?!'
Before he could spiral any further, Seraphine's voice cut through his panic—still soft, still beautiful, yet carrying a weight that silenced all.
"Children," she said, "please review the list and begin preparing for war. You are dismissed."
And just like that, she vanished—no flash, no sound—gone like smoke in the wind.
The generals followed suit, stepping off the stage and vanishing through a door in the back.
Immediately, the crowd surged forward.
Warriors from every race rushed toward the massive poster, eyes burning with excitement and nerves, scanning for their names. Some shouted in triumph. Others groaned in defeat.
Lucy didn't move.
He stood there, arms crossed, confidence high.
'Pfft. I don't even need to look. No way the goddess picked me. She literally said My journey's just starting.'
Smug in his assumption, he turned on his heel and started toward the exit—only to pause.
Curiosity, as always, got the better of him.
'Okay, maybe just a quick peek. Just in case.'
He glanced back.
The poster was massive, names glowing faintly, but what caught his eye wasn't the names—it was how they were organized.
Not alphabetically.
By race.
And there it was.
At the very top of one lonely section, it read:
Human:
Lucian Gray
His breath caught.
The blood drained from his face.
'...Oh no.'
…
Later that night, Darfin showed up at the cafeteria unannounced and, without so much as a "hello," he dragged Lucy, Llarm, Gindu, and Eri out to the training grounds.
Apparently, all four of them had been selected for the war.
That news didn't make Lucy feel better. Not even a little.
'Why the hell were we chosen? Gindu, sure. Even Eri, maybe. But Llarm and I? Come on!'
His mind drifted further as Darfin launched into a lecture about mana and magic, his tone sharp and no-nonsense.
"It's not about how much mana you have," Darfin said, pacing in front of them, "but how well you use it. For example…"—he pointed at Lucy with a look that could melt steel—"…the human here has significantly more mana than I do. And yet, the fire spell he copied from me is embarrassingly weak. Anyone want to guess why?"
Lucy's spine went cold at the venom in that glare.
Eri raised her hand without hesitation, voice ringing through the night air.
"Because the human is dumb and can barely use his magic!"
She beamed proudly.
Darfin nodded with approval. "Exactly."
Lucy blinked. 'I'm sitting right here, you know…'
But before he could dwell on the insult, his thoughts began to spiral again.
'Why do I have to fight in this war? I don't even have a reason to… no goal, no grudge. I just got here.'
His internal debate was cut short by Darfin barking again.
"Over the next three days, I'm going to turn you into lethal machines. Your mana control and hand-to-hand combat will skyrocket. Because let's face it—some of you need it."
The general's eyes locked on Lucy, like a predator tracking prey.
Lucy finally snapped. His voice came out low and tired, the usual playfulness drained away.
"Alright, I get it. I'm weak. Let's get on with it."
Llarm flinched at the tone. It wasn't like Lucy to sound that serious.
He didn't say anything, but Lucy caught the look.
It only made the pit in his stomach grow deeper.
The training over the next three days was brutal—merciless, even. Darfin hadn't been exaggerating when he promised to turn them into lethal machines. He pushed them past exhaustion, drilling them from sunrise to long past sunset, until their muscles burned and their minds blurred with fatigue.
Lucy had never known this kind of intensity. And yet, by the end of it, he had grown stronger—a lot stronger. His control over mana had evolved at a staggering pace, almost like he had been wielding it for years. What he thought was simple spell mimicry turned out to be something much more profound.
It was his habitual learning skill.
It didn't just apply to ability techniques—it applied to understanding itself. Every time he used mana, studied its flow, or pushed its limits, it was like an invisible manual unfurled in his mind, revealing more of its secrets. Bit by bit, the strange energy started making sense—its density, its motion, its harmony with the body. It took the whole three days, but eventually, he could feel it all clicking into place.
And Darfin had been right about the combat training, too. Lucy, who had never so much as thrown a real punch back on Earth, now moved like a fighter born. His body reacted faster. His strikes were precise. His stance had weight. All of it learned, absorbed, and refined with unnatural speed.
'Again, that damn skill.'
Despite the incredible progress, he didn't feel triumphant.
Now, as Lucian stood alone on Seraphine's balcony, the cool night breeze brushing past him, he watched the goddess gaze silently up at the stars. She stood there, radiant and ethereal, as if the constellations were whispering secrets only she could hear.
He should've felt proud.
Instead, he felt like his chest was sinking.
Fear.
Anxiety.
Doubt.
The kind that didn't go away just because you learned how to throw a punch or cast a spell.
He clenched the railing, knuckles pale.
'Is this what I'm meant to do now? Fight in some divine war I barely understand? Risk my life for a cause I didn't choose?'
The stars shimmered above, cold and distant.
And for all his new strength, Lucian had never felt smaller.