The Three Generals
Two months had passed since the bridge assault. Two months of training, meditation, and gradually processing what we'd done. The weight hadn't disappeared, but it had become manageable—integrated into who we were rather than crushing us beneath it.
Marcus had been relentless in our training, pushing us through advanced techniques while maintaining the discipline and control that kept us grounded. My cloud magic had evolved further, incorporating lessons learned from actual combat. Ryu's spear work had sharpened, his movements more precise, more lethal.
We'd received Zagan's letter a month ago. A formal invitation from Lord Theodric—distant relative of the Emperor, commander of the southern territories, one of the most powerful military leaders in the region. He wanted to meet us. Assess our capabilities. Discuss our potential participation in the coming decisive battle against Rengard's invasion.
I'd written back simply: *We'll continue training. We'll prepare ourselves. And we'll protect our families first.*
Now, standing in the village square that doubled as our training ground, I watched three riders approach from the south road.
"They're here," Ryu said quietly beside me.
My parents stood nearby, watching carefully. Marcus—Ryu's father—stood with his family, his expression thoughtful as he assessed the approaching riders. This meeting would determine all our futures, not just ours.
The three riders entered the square, and I understood immediately why these commanders followed Theodric so loyally.
They moved together with the precision of soldiers who'd fought side by side for years. But more than that—there was a bond evident in the way they positioned themselves, a trust and respect that spoke of shared ideals rather than mere military hierarchy.
The lead rider dismounted first. He appeared to be in his late thirties, dark-haired and youthful, but his weathered features spoke of countless campaigns. Not the tallest of the three—perhaps 175cm—but his presence commanded attention regardless. This was Lord Theodric.
The second rider was massive—easily 190cm tall with an imposing build. His most striking feature was his beard, long and meticulously maintained, giving him an air of ancient dignity. He moved with controlled power, every motion deliberate. This had to be Lord Barden.
The third man dismounted with barely contained energy. Perhaps 185cm, heavily muscled, with intense eyes that seemed to take in everything at once. There was something wild about him, a barely leashed intensity that made him seem larger than his actual size. Lord Erwin.
"Marcus," Theodric greeted first, his voice carrying warmth and respect. "It's been too long."
Marcus immediately knelt on one knee, placing his right fist over his heart in the formal salute reserved for nobility. "My lord," he said respectfully. "Welcome to Millbrook."
Theodric's eyes moved to Ryu and me. "And you must be Tenki and Ryu. Commander Zagan spoke very highly of you. General Vandor's report was... remarkable."
I bowed properly. "Thank you for coming, Lord Theodric."
"Thank you for agreeing to meet with us," Theodric corrected gently. "You could have refused. That you didn't speaks to your character." He gestured to his companions. "These are my most trusted commanders. Lord Barden, master of the naginata and earth magic. Lord Erwin, the Halberd Saint."
Barden's nod was measured, dignified. His eyes assessed us with the careful attention of a veteran warrior.
Erwin grinned, his intense gaze sparking with interest. "So you're the kids who destroyed that bridge. Not bad for eight and nine years old."
"We had help," Ryu said. "General Vandor's cavalry—"
"Did the tactical work," Erwin interrupted. "But you provided the strategic advantage. Fog concealment, arrow deflection, bridge destruction. Without you, that operation would have been a bloodbath." He looked at Theodric. "They're already deflecting credit. Good sign."
Theodric smiled slightly. "Perhaps we should sit? Or would you prefer to stand for what I have to say?"
"We'll stand," I said, glancing at my parents and Marcus. "Everyone should hear this."
"Very well." Theodric took a breath, and his expression shifted—becoming more serious, more purposeful. "Then let me tell you why I've come."
---
Theodric stood before us in the village square, the afternoon sun casting long shadows across the training ground. Barden and Erwin flanked him, but it was clear he would speak alone.
"I am a distant relative of the Emperor," Theodric began, his voice carrying the weight of conviction. "By blood, I have claim to imperial heritage. By choice, I've spent the last twenty years commanding armies in the southern territories, defending our people from external threats and internal chaos."
He looked around at all of us—not just Ryu and me, but our families, Marcus, the few villagers who'd gathered to witness this meeting.
"Our world is in turmoil. The Emperor sits on his throne, but he is manipulated by corrupt advisors, regional warlords, and foreign powers who see him as a puppet rather than a ruler. The true governance of our realm has fractured—warlords fight each other for territory, the people suffer, and the invasion from Rengard threatens to consume everything we've built."
His words were matter-of-fact, not inflammatory, but they carried truth I'd felt even in our small village.
"For years, I believed my role was to defend my territory, protect my people, and hope that wiser heads would prevail in the capital. I didn't seek greater power. I didn't want to be seen as another warlord fighting for personal glory." Theodric's expression hardened. "But recent events have shown me that hope alone is insufficient. The Emperor continues to be used, manipulated into decisions that weaken our realm. Good people die while corrupt officials profit. And Rengard sees our weakness as an invitation."
He stepped forward, his voice rising with passion.
"I want to change this world. Not for personal power, but to restore what we've lost. I want an Emperor who rules justly, advised by virtuous leaders rather than sycophants. I want regional commanders who cooperate rather than compete, who see the people's welfare as their primary duty. I want a realm where children like you don't have to fight in wars caused by adult failures."
The sincerity in his voice was undeniable. This wasn't political rhetoric—this was genuine conviction.
"I've allied with others who share this vision. Ethical commanders, principled advisors, people who believe we can rebuild something better from this chaos. Together, we're strong enough to resist Rengard's invasion. Strong enough to challenge the corruption poisoning our capital. Strong enough to create the change we need."
Theodric's gaze settled on Ryu and me specifically.
"But I won't lie to you. This path will be difficult. Rengard's invasion is just the beginning. After we repel them—and we will repel them—there will be political battles, diplomatic struggles, years of work to reform governance and restore proper order. I'm asking you to consider being part of that effort. Not as child soldiers to be deployed carelessly, but as valued allies whose unique capabilities could save countless lives."
He paused, letting his words sink in.
"You've already proven yourselves at the bridge assault. You have skills that military commanders would kill to possess. But what I care about more is your character—the fact that you fight to protect your families and homes, not for glory or profit. That's the kind of leadership our world needs."
The square was silent. Even the wind seemed to have stilled.
"I'm not asking for your answer now," Theodric said more quietly. "I'm asking you to train with us, learn from us, understand what kind of campaign we're preparing. And when Rengard's invasion comes in two to three months, I'm asking you to stand with us—not as conscripted soldiers, but as allies who've chosen to fight for something worth protecting."
He looked at our families.
"And I'm asking you to let them make that choice. With full knowledge of what they're committing to. With your support and presence. Because I believe the only ethical way to deploy fighters this young is with their families beside them, their humanity intact, their futures protected even as they help protect ours."
Theodric bowed slightly—an Emperor's relative bowing to common villagers.
"That's what I came to say. The decision is yours."
---
The silence stretched for a long moment. I looked at my mother, saw her expression—concern mixing with pride mixing with resigned acceptance. My father's face was harder to read, but he gave me a small nod.
Marcus broke the silence first. "Beautiful words, my lord. But words are cheap in wartime. How do we know you can deliver on these promises?"
"You don't," Theodric admitted. "Not yet. That's why I'm not asking for blind faith. I'm asking for the opportunity to prove ourselves—through training, through action, through the kind of leadership we demonstrate in the coming months."
Barden spoke for the first time, his voice deep and measured. "We fight beside our soldiers. We don't send others into danger we wouldn't face ourselves. That's our oath."
Erwin's grin was wolfish. "And we don't waste talent. If you're as good as Vandor says, we'll make you better. Much better."
I felt something stirring in my chest—not quite trust, but... possibility. A vision of what the world could be if people like Theodric actually followed through on their principles.
But possibility wasn't certainty. And I'd learned the hard way that good intentions didn't guarantee good outcomes.
"Your words are inspiring, Lord Theodric," I said carefully. "But we don't know your true capabilities. We've never fought beside you. For all we know, you're just another warlord with prettier rhetoric."
The words came out more harshly than I'd intended, but Theodric didn't seem offended.
Instead, Barden laughed—a deep, rumbling sound. "The boy's got sense. Doesn't trust speeches. Smart."
He looked at me directly, and I felt the weight of a veteran warrior's assessment.
"You want to know if we're worth following? Let's find out." Barden's hand moved to the naginata strapped to his back. "A demonstration. You and me, cloud mage. Let's see what you can do against someone who actually understands magical combat."
My heart rate spiked. This was a test—not just of my abilities, but of my judgment.
"And if I get to fight the spear wielder afterward," Erwin added, his eyes fixed on Ryu. "I haven't met a Spear Saint in years. This should be interesting."
Theodric looked between his commanders and us, then smiled slightly. "It seems my companions want to see if Vandor's praise was justified. What do you say, young fighters? Ready to test yourselves against real masters?"
I looked at Ryu. He gave me a tiny nod—the same expression he'd had before we charged Julius's forces at the bridge.
We'd been training for two months. Growing stronger, faster, more skilled. But we'd been fighting monsters and practice dummies. These were legendary warriors with decades of experience.
This would hurt.
"Yes," I said. "Let's see what we can learn."
---
Marcus cleared the training ground, establishing a proper dueling circle while our families watched from a safe distance. Barden stood at one end, his naginata planted in the ground beside him, his expression calm and assessing.
I stood at the opposite end, my sword at my side, cloud magic already stirring in response to my nervous energy.
"Rules," Marcus called out. "First blood, yield, or incapacitation. No killing techniques. No attacks after yield is called. Understood?"
"Understood," Barden said.
"Understood," I echoed.
Marcus stepped back. "Begin!"
I moved immediately, summoning fog to obscure Barden's vision—the same technique that had worked so well against Julius's archers—
The fog dissipated instantly. Not blown away by wind, but dissolved, the moisture in the air literally drying as earth magic absorbed it.
*Water is just another element,* I realized with shock. *Earth magic can counter it directly.*
Barden hadn't moved from his position. "Good instinct. Concealment first, control the battlefield. But you've never fought a magic user who understands your element, have you?"
I shifted tactics, forming compressed cloud formations above his head—kinetic strikes like the one I'd used to destroy the bridge—
Earth surged up from the ground, forming a protective dome over Barden's position. My cloud strikes hit the earthen barrier and dissipated harmlessly.
"Predictable," Barden commented. His naginata came up, and suddenly he was moving forward—fast, despite his size. "You're used to overwhelming opponents with superior firepower. That won't work here."
I dodged backward, drawing my sword and trying to create defensive clouds—
Earth magic erupted beneath my feet, the ground suddenly unstable, throwing off my balance. I stumbled, barely managing to roll away as Barden's naginata swept through the space where I'd been standing.
"Combat isn't just about your strongest techniques," Barden said, his attacks measured and controlled. "It's about adaptation. Reading your opponent. Finding weaknesses."
I formed wind currents, trying to push him off balance—he anchored himself with earth magic, immovable as a mountain.
I tried to freeze moisture in the air, creating ice barriers—he shattered them with casual ease.
I tried everything I'd learned in two months of intensive training, and Barden countered every single technique with what seemed like minimal effort.
My sword work was better than it had been at the bridge—Marcus had drilled me relentlessly on close combat—but Barden's naginata was longer, heavier, and he wielded it with Lv.9 mastery. Every exchange ended with me forced to retreat.
"You're thinking like an artillery mage," Barden said, still not breathing hard despite the continuous combat. "Long-range attacks, overwhelming force. But you have cloud magic—weather control, atmospheric manipulation. You're not using half your potential."
He swept his naginata low, and I jumped—only to feel earth magic grip my feet mid-air, pulling me down hard.
I hit the ground, and suddenly there was a naginata point at my throat.
"Yield?"
I lay there, breathing hard, frustration and humiliation burning through me. I'd been completely dominated. Everything I'd learned, every technique I'd developed—useless against a truly skilled opponent.
"Yield," I gasped.
Barden pulled back his weapon and offered me his hand. I took it, and he hauled me to my feet with surprising gentleness.
"You're eight years old," he said quietly. "And you just survived two minutes against a Lv.9 naginata master with earth magic. That's not failure, boy. That's proof you have genuine potential."
"I didn't land a single hit," I said bitterly.
"No, you didn't." Barden's expression was approving rather than mocking. "But you adapted. Your tactics changed six different times during that fight. You tried concealment, then artillery, then environmental control, then close combat, then defensive barriers, then mobility. That flexibility is rare in fighters your age."
He placed a massive hand on my shoulder.
"The problem is you're self-taught. Brilliant instincts, but no framework. I can fix that. Teach you how magic users actually fight each other. How to read elemental weaknesses. How to use your unique advantages properly." His beard twitched in what might have been a smile. "You destroyed a strategic bridge with your magic. Imagine what you could do with proper training."
I looked at him—this imposing warrior who'd just dismantled me completely—and saw genuine respect in his eyes.
"I'd like that," I said quietly. "Learning from you."
"Good." Barden looked past me to where Ryu was preparing for his own match. "Now let's see if Lord Erwin can be as impressive with the Spear Saint."
---
Erwin stood in the dueling circle, his halberd resting casually on his shoulder, that wild grin still on his face. Ryu faced him from the opposite end, his spear held in perfect form—the product of six years of training with Marcus.
"A Spear Saint," Erwin said, his voice carrying genuine excitement. "Do you know how rare that is? I've met three in my entire life. And you're what, nine years old?"
"Yes, sir," Ryu said.
"Don't call me sir. Makes me feel old." Erwin rolled his shoulders. "Let's see what Saint-class technique looks like from someone who's barely hit puberty."
Marcus called the start, and unlike my cautious opening, Ryu attacked immediately.
His spear work was beautiful—a flowing series of thrusts and sweeps that transitioned seamlessly from attack to defense. The Spear Saint class wasn't just about power—it was about perfect economy of motion, reading combat flow, making every movement count.
Erwin met him with equal beauty. The Halberd Saint, wielding a weapon that should have been slow and cumbersome, moved like he was dancing. Every block flowed into a counter. Every parry created an opening.
They clashed in the center of the circle, and the sound of weapons meeting rang across the square.
"Good!" Erwin laughed, his eyes alight with joy. "You've got the fundamentals down. Your master taught you well!"
Then he opened his mouth and released his special skill.
"**RAAAAAAAGH!**"
The Battle Roar hit like a physical force. I saw Ryu flinch, his perfect form disrupted by the sonic assault. His concentration shattered for just a moment—
Erwin pressed the advantage immediately, his halberd sweeping in with devastating force. Ryu barely managed to block, his spear deflecting the strike but his stance compromised.
"That's my signature move," Erwin said, grinning ferally as he pressed his attack. "Soul-shaking roar. Breaks concentration, disrupts balance, makes your body hesitate even when your mind wants to fight. Annoying, isn't it?"
Ryu was on the defensive now, his earlier fluid offense replaced by desperate parries. Erwin's experience showed in every exchange—he could read Ryu's techniques, anticipate his movements, counter before the attack even fully developed.
"You're good," Erwin acknowledged, his halberd moving in complex patterns that forced Ryu to retreat. "Really good. But you lack combat experience against equal opponents. You've been fighting monsters and soldiers, not masters."
He swept low, forcing Ryu to jump—then reversed the halberd mid-swing, the butt end slamming into Ryu's guard and nearly knocking the spear from his hands.
Ryu recovered, but I could see his breathing getting heavier. Erwin was toying with him, demonstrating the gap in their abilities.
Then something changed in Ryu's eyes.
I recognized it immediately—the same expression he'd had when I'd cornered him with cloud magic during our training drills. The moment when his special ability activated.
**Shura's Last Stand: Awakening (背水の陣覚醒)**
Ryu's movements suddenly accelerated. Not dramatically—he wasn't suddenly faster than Erwin—but his reactions sharpened, his spear work became more precise, his timing improved.
"Oh?" Erwin's grin widened. "Special ability? Now we're talking!"
The fight intensified. Ryu was still on the defensive, but now he was finding openings—tiny gaps in Erwin's seemingly perfect offense. His spear slipped through guards that had been impenetrable moments before.
Erwin laughed, delighted. "You activate faster when you're in danger! Pressure response ability—rare for someone your age!"
They clashed again, weapons blurring. Ryu committed to a high-risk thrust, accepting Erwin's counter to create an opening—
His spear changed angle at the last possible moment, sacrificing form for utility, and slammed into Erwin's solar plexus with the butt end.
It wasn't a lethal strike—barely even a solid hit—but it landed.
Erwin staggered back half a step, eyes wide with surprise.
Then his expression changed. The playful grin vanished, replaced by something sharper, more focused. "Well now," he said quietly, his voice carrying a dangerous edge. "That actually hurt a little."
He rolled his shoulders, his stance shifting. "I was going easy on you. Testing your fundamentals. But if you can land a hit like that..." His grin returned, but it was different now—fierce, predatory. "Let me show you what a Halberd Saint really looks like when he stops holding back."
The air around Erwin seemed to change. His movements, which had been impressive before, suddenly became overwhelming. The halberd blurred—not with simple speed, but with technique so refined it was like watching a completely different fighter.
Ryu's special ability was still active, his reactions at their peak, but it wasn't enough. Erwin's attacks came from impossible angles, each strike flowing seamlessly into the next. Ryu blocked desperately, his perfect form crumbling under the relentless assault.
"This is the difference," Erwin said, his voice calm despite the intensity of his attacks. "Between talent and mastery. Between potential and realization."
He swept low, forcing Ryu to block downward—then reversed the halberd with blinding speed, the shaft slamming into Ryu's spear with tremendous force.
The spear flew from Ryu's hands, spinning through the air to embed itself in the ground ten meters away.
Ryu stood there, weaponless, breathing hard. The special ability faded from his eyes, leaving only exhaustion and the stark realization of defeat.
Erwin planted his halberd and extended his hand. "You did well," he said, his tone respectful. "That hit you landed? Against most warriors, that would've been the fight. You've got real talent, kid. Real warrior spirit." He pulled Ryu to his feet. "But talent needs to be tempered with experience and training. That's what I can teach you."
He looked at Theodric and Barden. "I like them. Both of them. They've got the fundamentals, the raw talent, and most importantly—they've got the mindset."
Theodric stepped forward into the circle, his expression warm. "I think we've all seen enough. These young fighters have proven themselves. The question now is whether they want to learn from us."
---
We stood together in the center of the training ground—Ryu and me still breathing hard from our matches, the three generals radiating calm confidence, our families watching with mixed expressions.
I bowed deeply, Ryu matching my motion. "Lord Theodric, Lord Barden, Lord Erwin—we would be honored to learn from you. To train under your guidance and prepare for the coming battle."
Theodric's smile was genuine. "The honor would be ours. But there's something else I want to propose. Something that goes beyond simple training."
He looked at our families.
"War zones expand unpredictably. Millbrook is relatively safe now, but when Rengard's major offensive begins, we can't guarantee that safety will continue. Villages have been raided. Families have been scattered. And I refuse to ask you to fight while worrying about whether your loved ones are in danger."
My mother's expression sharpened with understanding.
"I'm proposing that your families travel with our campaign force," Theodric continued. "Not as soldiers, but as protected civilians under military escort. Your housing, food, safety—all guaranteed. Your fathers' work—compensated at fair rates. Your families stay together, you train with us, and when the decisive battle comes, you fight knowing your loved ones are secure."
"You're asking us to leave Millbrook," my father said slowly. "Our home. Our livelihood."
"I won't lie to you about how long this will take," Theodric said, his voice serious. "This conflict—Rengard's invasion, the political reforms we need afterward—could last months, possibly years. I can't promise you a quick return home." He looked at each parent in turn. "What I can promise is that your families will be protected, provided for, and kept together. When circumstances allow, you can decide whether to return to Millbrook or remain with us. But I won't make false guarantees about timing."
He gestured to Marcus. "And you, Marcus—if you're willing—would be welcome as a tactical advisor. Your experience and guidance would be valuable not just for Tenki and Ryu, but for training our other forces."
Marcus was quiet for a moment, then looked at his wife Lydia. They exchanged the silent communication of partners who'd fought together for years. Then Marcus nodded.
"I was getting bored with just monster hunting and training drills," he said with a slight grin. "Tactical advisor to a major campaign? Now that sounds interesting." He looked at Ryu. "And if my son is fighting in this war, I'll be there to keep him grounded."
Lydia stepped forward, her hand on Ryu's shoulder. "Our family stays together. That's not negotiable. If this war takes years, so be it."
My mother and father—standing separately from Marcus's family—exchanged their own long look. Then my mother spoke.
"If Tenki has decided to fight, we go with him. That's not negotiable either."
My father nodded agreement. "We've raised him to make his own choices. Now we'll support those choices."
Theodric bowed again—deeper this time. "Then we have an agreement. Your families will travel with us, protected and provided for. Tenki and Ryu will train under myself, Barden, and Erwin. And when the decisive battle comes—we'll stand together against Rengard's invasion."
"Not just against Rengard," Barden added quietly. "But for the kind of world worth building afterward."
Erwin laughed. "Stop being so philosophical. We're warriors, not poets. Let's just focus on not dying and making sure these kids survive to see that better world."
I looked at Ryu, saw my own mixture of fear and excitement reflected in his eyes. Two months ago, we'd fought at a bridge, taken human lives, proved ourselves capable of military operations. Now we were committing to something larger—a campaign that would determine not just the outcome of an invasion, but potentially the future of the entire realm.
We were eight and nine years old.
We were warriors with blood on our hands.
We were children trying to protect our families.
We were all of those things at once, and there was no easy way to reconcile them.
But we wouldn't face it alone. Our families would be there. Marcus would be there. And these three generals—legendary warriors who'd just demonstrated the vast gulf between our current abilities and true mastery—they would teach us how to bridge that gap.
"When do we leave?" I asked.
"Three days," Theodric said. "That gives you time to arrange your affairs, pack what you need, say goodbye to friends. My forces will arrive with wagons and supplies. The journey to our campaign headquarters will take about a week."
"Three days," I repeated. Three days to prepare for everything to change again.
Theodric extended his hand—not in a military salute, but a simple handshake between allies. I took it, feeling the calluses of a warrior who'd fought beside his soldiers for twenty years.
"Welcome to the campaign," he said quietly. "And thank you. For choosing to fight for something worth protecting."
---
That evening, my family sat together at the kitchen table—the same table where I'd confessed what happened at the bridge assault two months ago. Now we were planning our departure.
"Your father and I will need to arrange for the shop to be maintained while we're gone," my mother said, making notes on parchment. "The Hendersons owe us a favor. They can manage the business temporarily."
"And I'll need to ensure our farm work is delegated properly," my father added. "The western fields need harvesting in two months—we'll need to hire help."
I watched them working through logistics, their movements efficient and practical. They weren't happy about this—I could see the worry in my mother's eyes, the tension in my father's shoulders—but they weren't trying to stop me either.
"I'm sorry," I said quietly. "For making you leave home. For—"
"Stop," my mother interrupted gently. "You're not making us do anything. We're choosing to stay with you, because you're our son and you're doing something dangerous. That's what family means."
My father placed a hand on my shoulder. "We trust your judgment, Tenki. You've proven yourself capable. Now we'll support you."
Later that night, Ryu came by. We sat on the roof of my house—our favorite spot for private conversations—and watched the stars.
"We beat soldiers at the bridge," Ryu said thoughtfully. "Felt like we were strong. Ready for anything."
"And then Barden and Erwin reminded us exactly how much we don't know," I finished.
"Yeah." Ryu grinned despite himself. "That Battle Roar was brutal. I thought I was going to throw up."
"Earth magic neutralizing my clouds felt like fighting with one hand tied behind my back," I admitted. "Everything I'd developed—useless against someone who actually understands elemental counters."
"But we'll learn," Ryu said confidently. "Barden said he'd teach you magical combat. Erwin said he'd push me to the next level of Spear Saint technique. By the time the invasion happens, we'll be ready."
"Or we'll die trying."
"There's that optimism I've come to expect from you."
We laughed, the sound carrying across the quiet village. Below us, Millbrook continued its peaceful evening routine—villagers finishing dinner, children being tucked into bed, the normal rhythms of life that we were leaving behind.
"Do you think Theodric's vision is real?" I asked. "A world where the Emperor rules justly, where warlords cooperate, where we don't have to fight anymore?"
"I think he believes it," Ryu said. "Whether he can actually accomplish it... that's another question. But he's the first commander we've met who even talks about peace as the goal rather than just victory."
"Zagan talked about protecting people."
"Zagan talked about necessity. Theodric talks about building something better." Ryu looked at me. "Maybe that's naive. Maybe we're being manipulated by pretty words. But after everything we've seen—the bridge, the soldiers, the way Julius was just another person trying to survive—I'd rather fight for someone trying to make peace than someone just fighting to win."
I thought about that. About Theodric's speech, Barden's dignity, Erwin's fierce joy in combat tempered by genuine respect for opponents. About the way all three of them bowed to common villagers and offered protection rather than demanding service.
"Yeah," I said finally. "Me too."
---
Three days later, Theodric's supply wagons rolled into Millbrook. Not a military invasion, but a organized evacuation—families who'd chosen to travel with the campaign loading their possessions, children excitedly viewing it as an adventure, adults grimly preparing for an uncertain future.
Marcus supervised the loading with military precision, his experience as an adventurer showing in how efficiently he organized supplies. My parents moved with the calm competence of former Gold-rank adventurers preparing for a long quest.
Ryu's family was equally prepared—his father securing their most valuable possessions, his mother ensuring his younger sibling had comfortable travel arrangements, everyone working together with practiced coordination.
I stood in the village square one last time, looking at the training ground where I'd spent countless hours practicing magic, the houses where friends lived, the familiar streets that had been my entire world eight months ago.
So much had changed. I'd discovered cloud magic, trained with Marcus, fought orcs, taken the Truth Crystal assessment, deployed to a military operation, killed enemy soldiers, and now I was leaving home to train with legendary warriors for a campaign that would determine the realm's future.
I was eight and a half years old.
"Ready?" Ryu asked beside me.
I thought about lying—saying yes with confidence I didn't feel. But we'd promised each other honesty after the bridge assault.
"No," I admitted. "But I'm going anyway."
"Same," Ryu said. He offered his hand. "Together?"
I took it, gripping firmly. "Together."
We walked to the wagons where our families waited. Theodric sat on horseback at the head of the caravan, Barden and Erwin flanking him. When he saw us approaching, he nodded with approval.
"Everyone ready?" he called out.
A chorus of affirmations rose from the assembled families—probably two dozen people in total, all choosing to follow because their children had committed to fighting.
"Then let's move out," Theodric commanded. "We have a week's journey ahead of us. And after that—training that will transform you from talented fighters into true warriors."
The caravan began moving, wheels creaking, horses snorting, families settling into the rhythm of travel. I looked back one last time at Millbrook, committing it to memory.
My mother's hand settled on my shoulder. "We'll come back," she said quietly. "After this is over. And you'll still be you—just stronger, wiser, more experienced."
"I hope so," I said.
"I know so." She squeezed my shoulder. "Because you have us. And you have Ryu. And you have Marcus. And now you have three legendary warriors teaching you. You're not facing this alone."
The caravan continued south, toward Theodric's campaign headquarters, toward intensive training, toward the decisive battle that would come when Rengard launched their invasion.
Toward a future I couldn't predict but was choosing to shape.
I was eight and a half years old.
I was a cloud mage with blood on my hands.
I was a child trying to protect his family.
And I was about to learn what it truly meant to be a warrior.
Chapter 13 introduces the three generals—Theodric with his vision for peace, Barden with his versatile mastery, and Erwin with his fierce combat joy. Tenki and Ryu are decisively beaten in their sparring matches, gaining new understanding of how much they still need to learn. With their families choosing to accompany them, they depart Millbrook for intensive training before Rengard's decisive battle. Chapter 14 will cover their training under the three masters and preparation for the coming war. Thank you for reading!
