The Life of a Battlemage

Rifi's body was a mess of cuts and bruises, blood soaking his clothes, while a two-meter spear still protruded from his abdomen. To any onlooker, he seemed to be on the brink of death. Yet despite the gruesome sight, the injury wasn't as dire as it appeared. For mages, wounds like this weren't necessarily fatal—as long as no vital organs were damaged, they could heal, given enough time and mana. Rifi, fortunately, had instinctively used what little mana he had left to staunch the bleeding from his wounds, keeping himself alive.

With a grunt, he reached for the spear embedded in his torso, his mana-infused hand gripping it tightly. With a sharp twist, he broke the shaft and, groaning from the effort, forced himself off the remaining piece lodged in his body. Pain seared through him, but he pushed lightning mana into the wound, cauterizing it on the spot. The smell of burning flesh hit his nostrils, and the agony almost made him black out. The healing process would be slow, but for now, this was his only option.

The squad of mages reached him just as he staggered to his feet. More reinforcements could be seen in the distance, mages flooding toward the battlefield. The true battle was about to begin. The first group that arrived bore the insignia of one of the city's most powerful clans—Collina. Their crest, an icy bear, gleamed proudly on their armor. One of the Collina mages, a Spellbound from the look of his cold, emotionless demeanor, paused only briefly to speak to Rifi.

"You should move to the second line if you want to live," the Spellbound said flatly, his voice devoid of warmth. "This entire area is about to become a battlefield. Take your legionaries and finish off whatever low-tier beasts make it through."

With that curt warning, they moved on, paying him no further attention. The flames that had kept the horde at bay were dying down, and with them, the fleeting moment of peace vanished.

Rifi watched them go, his face grim. The title of Spellbound or Battlemage was reserved for only the most powerful, Red core mages or higher, and this one had bothered to save his life and offer advice. There were fewer than two hundred Red core mages in all of Hepestus, and for most people, an encounter with one would be a story worth telling for years. But not to Rifi.

He despised them—the big clans and their elite mages who treated everyone else like dirt beneath their boots. In his experience, they saw other humans as no better than beasts, lives to be discarded without a second thought. He knew all too well what these mages were capable of. His nightmares, and the scar across his chest, were constant reminders of that—a brutal gift from another Spellbound, this one from the Esquliana clan.

Tch. They're all the same, Rifi thought bitterly. Bastards in fancy robes hiding behind their clan insignias.

Groaning in pain, Rifi shook the thoughts away and headed back toward his legionaries.

"Holy shit, Captain, do you know that Collina Spellbound?" one of the Fire mages exclaimed as Rifi arrived at the second line of defense—a simple trench with wooden fortifications spaced every few meters.

Rifi gave the legionary a dry look, then muttered sarcastically, "Oh yeah, of course. His grandmother and mine used to drink coffee together every day."

The Fire mage's eyes widened, stunned by the reply. "Wait, wha—?"

"Relax," Rifi interrupted with an eye roll. "I was joking. You really think I have connections with those rich bastards?"

The other legionaries burst into laughter, the tension of the night easing for a moment. They had needed that, a break from the unrelenting pressure.

Rifi's expression turned serious again. "Listen up, boys. The real battle's about to begin, and we're too weak to do much more than watch. If anything big gets past that Spellbound and his team, head straight for the encampment. If they can't stop it, we definitely can't. Our job is to mop up any low-tier beasts that slip through. I saw more teams coming this way—they should be here soon."

His words sobered the legionaries. They knew their task now was survival. It was easy to become complacent in this kind of lull, but Rifi kept them focused and sharp.

The group spread out, with Rifi in the center and the Brown and Black core mages stationed on either side. A few wounded beasts made it past the first line, but they were easy prey, their injuries making them slow and vulnerable. The legionaries dispatched them without much effort.

Hours seemed to pass in a blur of explosions and tremors. The high-tier magic battles in front of the collapsed wall shook the earth. The air was filled with the deafening roar of magic, punctuated by the shrieks of dying beasts and, at times, the desperate cries of mages.

But something began to change. Rifi noticed it first. The explosions were getting closer, and the human shouts were now mixed with screams—screams of terror.

"Guys, we're done here," Rifi said, his voice low but firm. "Something big is heading our way. Go to the encampment, now. I'll buy you some time."

The legionaries hesitated, glancing at one another uncertainly.

"NOW!" Rifi barked, snapping them out of their daze.

They scrambled out of the fortifications, running toward the main encampment. As they fled, two Spellbound mages came into view near the wall, hurling spells at a massive creature in the distance. One of them was the Collina Spellbound from earlier, now drenched in sweat, his clothes tattered. He slid down the crumbled wall on a slick path of ice, all while firing sharp shards at the beast.

The other Spellbound, wielding fire, launched himself into the air, propelled by jets of flame. High above, he conjured a massive plasma ball that hovered ominously in the sky before slamming it down toward the beast.

The creature finally came into view—a hulking, gorilla-like monster. Its thick hide shrugged off most of the attacks, though the more concentrated spells did some damage. The gorilla raised one of its four massive arms, summoning an earth shield to block the plasma ball. It hurled the molten, smoking mass to the ground, then formed another shield to deflect the ice shards. All the while, it hurled sharp stone boulders at its attackers with its remaining arms.

The Spellbounds, strong and fast, were able to evade the worst of the beast's attacks. But their companions—less powerful Green and Blue core mages—had not been so fortunate. Half of them lay dead, their bodies scattered among the rubble.

Rifi's gaze locked onto the beast as it neared the second line. The Spellbounds were holding their own, but it was clear they were burning through mana at an unsustainable rate. They couldn't keep this up much longer.

The Ice Spellbound made a desperate move, freezing the ground beneath the beast's feet, causing it to slip and fall hard onto its back. At that moment, another plasma ball crashed down from the sky, engulfing the gorilla in a fiery explosion.

They've got this, Rifi thought, momentarily relieved. Spellbounds really are something else.

But then he frowned, confusion settling in as both Spellbounds retreated at breakneck speed, putting as much distance between themselves and the gorilla as possible.

The beast, enraged, slammed its fists into its chest and roared, shaking the ground. With its enemies out of reach, it turned its attention to the next available target—the retreating legionaries.

Rifi's heart sank. He couldn't let those men die, not after all they'd been through. Ignoring the pain tearing through his chest, he dashed forward with everything he had, hurling his lightning-infused daggers at the beast's head in an attempt to draw its attention.

The gorilla batted the daggers away like they were nothing and retaliated with an earth spike, which Rifi barely dodged, though not without consequence. His legs screamed in agony as the nerves in his calves burned from the strain. His muscles were spent, and he wouldn't be able to run much longer.

The beast lunged, landing right beside him, its enormous hand closing around his legs. Rifi fought back, summoning the last of his mana to send four lightning bolts crackling toward the gorilla. The bolts hit, but they did little more than irritate the beast. His core was nearly empty, and his lightning was too weak to harm a creature four tiers above him.

Amused by the futile attack, the gorilla lifted Rifi into the air, ready to crush him between its jaws.

Suddenly, an earth spell slammed into the gorilla with such force that it was thrown twenty meters backward, Rifi still clutched in its hand. The impact sent shockwaves through the battlefield, the force of it knocking Rifi unconscious as he flew through the air.

The gorilla flung him even farther, but Rifi never saw what hit him. It was the elder Spellbound from the City Lord's forces, but Rifi was oblivious to the rescue. Once again, he had survived by sheer luck.

As luck showed its gentle side once again to Rifi, he landed in a nearby river.

Rifi drifted helplessly down the river, his battered body barely clinging to life. His breath came in ragged gasps, each one a struggle as his lungs fought against the pain. The shockwave from the battle had torn through him, rupturing his organs and leaving his insides a chaotic mess. Blood seeped from his torn capillaries, but what little mana remained within him instinctively worked to stem the bleeding.

His head bobbed in and out of the water, the cold river soaking through his tattered clothes. With each dip, he sputtered and choked on the icy water, barely able to keep his face above the surface. He slipped in and out of consciousness, the world around him a blurred haze of light and shadow. His thoughts were a jumbled mess, a mixture of pain and confusion.

How long have I been here?

"Brghlhl... brghlll..." His head slipped beneath the water again, the rushing current threatening to pull him under. Panic flickered in his mind, but he was too weak to fight it. Somehow, each time he dipped under, his body fought its way back up, driven purely by instinct and the fragile thread of survival.

Time became meaningless. He didn't know how long he had been drifting—minutes, hours, days? His body floated on the mercy of the river, carried along its winding path. Every time he regained consciousness, it was only for a few brief moments, just long enough to hear the sound of the water rushing past, before slipping into the comforting void of unconsciousness again.

Eventually, the river's current began to slow, and Rifi's battered form was washed ashore. His limp body came to rest in what seemed like a cave. For a long while, he lay there motionless, his mind and body too drained to do anything but breathe.

When he finally managed to stir, it took every ounce of strength just to roll onto his back. His vision was foggy, his left eye swollen shut, while the other struggled to focus. The world around him was a dim blur, the sound of the river a distant murmur in his ears. He could barely move, his limbs heavy and unresponsive.

Through the haze, he caught a glimpse of something—a dark silhouette.

Rifi's mind struggled to make sense of what he was seeing. Who... what... But he was too weak to form coherent thoughts. His lips moved, but no sound came out. The shadowed figure was too far beyond his grasp.

Then, a soft voice drifted into his mind, echoing in the corners of his fading consciousness. The words, gentle and distant, seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once.

"Silly human..."

The voice carried a strange warmth, tinged with an amusement that sent a shiver down his spine. It was neither threatening nor kind—just... observing.

As the words wrapped around him, Rifi's vision darkened completely. The last of his strength ebbed away, and he slipped into a deep, dreamless sleep, the mysterious figure the final image burned into his mind.