Through The Fractured Lens

Lucian

Time was still such a shaky thing, I couldn't stop thinking about it. It felt like yesterday I had just turned 15 and fully unlocked my spirit manipulation.

However, I turned 16 yesterday. Still quite a lot to process, but at least my body was growing.

In truth, that was one of the very few things I genuinely was excited for.

My old body was quite tall. I was 18 years old at the time of my suicide, and a physique that the average man could dream of.

The combined efforts of my training carved a body perfectly agile for the fight.

However, no matter how much training I did in this life, the simple matter of my age hindered me from greatness. As I grew older, however, I noticed that burden dwindling over time.

I was nearly as tall as I was before, however I still needed to train my physical. Lately I've been training my spirit manipulation. This comes with practicing my offense and defensive capabilities, and attempting to conjure different spells.

Spells was an interesting thing I had learned about. While I still had a lot to understand about it, the simple premise was simple. 

The ability known as spells in this world was the formulation of spirit energy based on one's own will. You not only had to physically manifest it, you also had to mentally.

While manipulating the physical grew quite easy to me over a matter of just a few months…

The mental was hard. I could never hold a thought long enough for it to properly formulate, resulting in the spell either breaking before it was fully casted, or it being cast half powered.

Spells could be a lot of things. You could create an army of energy swords that act like projectiles, slashing through the air towards your enemies. On the other hand, you can create condensed pockets of energy that burst upon impact, acting almost as projectiles.

The most unique thing about it all, however, was elemental manipulation.

Spirit was not just apart of you, it was apart of everything. It inhabited all life and air around us. The ground, water, everything.

I actually managed to spot one of the soldiers practicing this tactic before as my family and I were at the market a few months back—which had met my interest.

He was attempting to influence the earth, the ground around him. As I watched spirit energy flow naturally in a mini whirlwind around his body, rocks and broken tree shards began to lift, following the whirlwind—almost like a vacuum, as it traced the winds direction, following it's wake.

I had read a bit more about this as well. While books that talked about these sort of things were rare to come by, favoring for more fantasy books—even though they basically live in a fantasy world, they do exist, which was quite helpful in my research.

There exists people who can manipulate lightning, fire, wind, earth, anything. People can also combine and mix these elements together, or even have their own variation of them.

I read in the history books about the first war between Elyndor and Serathis. The king of Elyndor at the time, King Romano, had fought on the frontlines himself, who possessed generational spirit manipulation talent.

King Romano wielded purple lightning, being able to bolt around enemies in a flash of lightning, striking them down in a moments notice.

As well as that, it was said that he could instill the sound of death in his enemies, manipulating one of the five senses, hearing.

This was said to kill the enemies before they were even dead.

King Romano slaughtered thousands of Serathis soldiers, a sole person shifting the tide of the war in the heat of the battle. He was also the same king when the first war had ended, which resulted in a peace treaty.

King Romano lived to only his mid 40's, as it says that anybody with the potent ability to manipulate the senses of a being—drains their own lifespan in the process.

Despite that, he was one of the most influential people in all of history.

He single handedly shifted a losing war, while also governing his continent. He was also the first king of Elyndor to enter the continent of Grimholt. Even to this day, he remains the only one.

Both Grimholt and Vorrakhan notoriously avoid the conflicts between us and Serathis.

A wise choice, indeed. Conflict is futile. It always ends in death, blood painting the floors of the empty battlefields for miles.

Political disagreement can result in the burning of hundreds of thousands—even millions.

No matter how many years pass, how many kings or queens take the throne, they never learn. It's a never ending conflict that'll stretch out for the foreseeable future, until they both ensure mutual destruction in the end.

Despite their idiotic behavior that seemed to stretch generations, it was none of my concern. My only worry lied in myself, and my strength.

I decided to take a break from practicing spells and decided to shift my focus over to my defensive capabilities.

My offensive capabilities seemed almost natural, intertwined. I had figured out many different methods to utilize my spirit energy to boost my destructive power. The method I became most fond of was creating a layer of spirit energy around my blade, however, I would outline the layer with spikes of energy.

With this, even if I missed the direct swing, the spikes would still stretch out, ripping through defensive shields or natural protection of one's body.

This became quite the feat—however it took nearly all my focus to hold, so it wasn't reliable.

In order for me to become more diverse in battle, I had to ensure I was able to not only strike the opponents, but also defend myself in time of need.

I was able to cast basic shields around my body, however that simply was not enough.

Any imbued blade could rip through the shield, making it practically useless to any blow with enough force behind it.

While my capacity for spirit energy was still quite limited—something that couldn't grow in months, but rather years, or even decades, it was quite a lot for somebody my age.

I had figured out through training that packing spirit energy into a condensed point took a lot less energy than spreading it evenly around.

Even if it used the same amount of spirit energy in the end, there is multiple layers to these different spells and abilities. Condensing it all into one point allows the energy to be focused. Because of this, not only was this target area more powerful, but it also wouldn't spread out so far.

With such a small radius, it would only expand outwards, or in the direction intended—entirely dependent on the will of the user, and it's original purpose.

Because of this, it became a possibility to pull in the spirit energy I had released by reducing the margin.

I had decided to apply what I had learned into my shielding. Instead of a thin shield covering all angles of my body, I would focus it all into a specific point.

While this left the rest of my body unprotected, this specific point was enhanced beyond the traditional shields, even from more powerful spirit users. Because of this, it would be able to withstand multiple strikes from any sort of projectile or blade—energy infused or not.

The only downside to this technique would simply be maintaining it. I would have to constantly recreate or adjust this shield depending on the incoming attack.

Some attacks might require me to spread it out more evenly across my body, while others would need me to focus it more to the side, protecting my chest—or even head.

Despite this, it would only become less of a worry as I developed as a spirit user.

My training was soon interrupted by my mother, as it usually is.

"Hey Lucian, someone's here to see you—I don't know who it is, but unfortunately, they are insisting on speaking with you."

That was strange. While I did have to go to school, I never really made much friends, nor interacted with people outside of my family.

Nothing stood out about me in public, as I usually tend to keep to myself.

I walk in the house, taking off my coat and quickly laying it over the head of the couch.

My father was passed out on the couch, clearly drunk. I didn't pay him no mind, as he was a hard worker. He spent his days helping Uncle Hayes and his farms, which was honest work.

Walking through the house, I couldn't help but think about when we originally arrived. I was so interested to see how my life played out—even if my mom insisted it was only for a few weeks.

Despite that, It had been over a decade since we arrived.

While they insisted on not discussing any details with me, it was clear our hometown was destroyed.

I never grew attached to it, in fact—I had a lingering tinge of hatred. The name of the village struck me to my core, even if it was just the name. Millbrook still pissed me off at the thought of it.

Finally, I made it to the door. I was quite eager to see what this man wanted with me. Despite this, I still felt annoyed being dragged back in the house.

I didn't really care for those around me, or anything like that. Some nights I would train so late I'd pass out in the grass, however my parents never noticed. I woke up before them, and also went to sleep after them.

To them, it seemed like I just headed out first thing in the morning and never left till late.

I swung open the door, revealing a tall man with a serious expression, looking down on me. He wore the military emblem, which seemed to be a star crest with a shining center. Multiple scars riddled his face and hands, as his long sleeves were torn on the edges.

"Hello there, you are Lucian, correct?" He spoke, clearly annoyed of having to wait.

"Yeah. Who's asking exactly?" I replied.

"Forgive me for not introducing myself first. I am General Iron Hand of the Elyndor military. Pleasure to meet you, Lucian."

Generals always had nicknames in this world. They were important figures, commanding many of their own forces and divisions, so they had kept their real identity hidden.

I never heard of Iron Hand in specific, however the fact that he was a General said enough.

He came here for a reason, and a pretty big one at that.

"Nice to meet you. However, a General doesn't usually find himself out here. What do you want with me?" I retorted, expressing my disinterest in formalities.

"Ah, a smart lad. That's good, you'll need that."

"Anyways, enough talk. I'm here to inform that you, Lucian Walker, have been drafted to the Elyndor military as a frontline recruit."

These words struck me hard. I never really knew there was a draft in this world, and the fact that they were using it only meant they were in dire need of more men.

The fact that a general had to deliver this news must mean its not a natural occurrence.

I had wanted to use this life to reach the top, where nobody could touch me—nobody. However, I had wanted to do it by my own accord. My own path, not a first class seat to death itself.

In war, there were no winners. Only losers, and people who lost their life for a cause that would only prove meaningless in the coming generations as their sacrifice becomes forgotten in time.

Despite all this, I wasn't too worried. I felt confident in my abilities to fight other soldiers, and it would be the first time I actually got to fight someone.

I would finally be able to shed blood. A mysterious grin flashed over my face, as memories of me brutally cutting down the men that Silas operated in my past life filled me with joy.

My mother spoke before me, quietly watching in the background.

"Lucian… my Lucian? No no, you must have made a mistake general. He's only 16."

The general shifted his gaze from me, over to my mother. "Yes Mrs. Walker. The draft age was lowered to 16 a few months back, official ruling from the royal family."

"Soldiers are few, but very valuable. We need more men, we need numbers."

"Lucian is of age and passes all physical requirements. He will undergo basic training as well, to ensure he's prepared to enter the frontlines."

I finally decided to add to the conversation. "Well, that wasn't something I had expected."

"However, I'm no longer shocked by much nowadays."

"When will I have to leave?"

The general inspected me closely, clearly not expecting that type of response from someone my age. He was probably used to tears, desperate pleas—anything but agreement.

"Tomorrow. You will get picked up at noon. Pack the bare minimum."

"Okay." I replied, not having any words.

I accepted this quite fast, surprisingly. While I wouldn't have wanted this to be the outcome after only 16 years of surviving on this world, I wasn't exactly sad about it.

In truth, I didn't want to die. However, I wasn't afraid of death. I had experienced it before, but regardless, I truly had no reason to stay alive.

In these 16 years I have come to care for nobody. Not even my own family.

They didn't deserve that from their kid, and despite knowing that, I couldn't give them what they actually deserved. A loving child.

The general gave me a nod before heading out, as I closed the door to turn at my mother.

She embraced with me a hug, probably thinking I was just trying to be formal with the general, and was secretly very scared.

I tried to show a bit of fear—just to ease the worry. I hugged her back, of course, before leaving to go to my room.

There was nothing to pack, so I had just waited. Both my father and uncle came to talk to me about it, however both conversations became just an empty blur.

The night fell, and I drifted asleep. I was getting drafted to the war, where I very well might die.

Death was a sensitive topic throughout any culture.

Some think of death as the end, while others think of it as a new beginning.

Me? Well, I'm not quite sure. I wouldn't exactly say death is the end, but I wouldn't say it was a new beginning either. Life itself felt like a curse, a burden to carry.

Working tirelessly just to make it to the next day, wondering when it'd all come to an end.

However, I had no place to think.

Tomorrow, I was going to war, something I never thought would happen.