Second Life as a Soldier

Author’s Note: Some readers asked whether Edward “loses” skills like Reading, Writing, or Math when selecting his class skills. To clarify: he doesn’t. Skills always remain. What happens is that certain advanced skills, such as [Applied Military Theory], is combinations of skill (Reading (C), Writing (C), Math (C), Battlefield Strategy Basics (C), Tactical Memory (C), and Combat Journaling (C)).

In Chapter 37, the line “The visions blurred, then fused” represents this process of skills combining. Another example is [Minor Restoration (C)] – Level 14, which results from [Soldier’s Breathing (C)] – Level 20 and [Meditation (C)] – Level 25 merging together. Its vision describes: “Meditation bound to breathing, calm stitched into strain. My body knit itself in small ways as I pushed on, breath feeding both strength and mana back into me.”

The idea behind this is similar to learning mechanics: it draws on both physics and math as its foundations.

For reference, see Chapters 15 and 16. Chapter 15 explains how class skills shape mana cultivation progression, and Chapter 16 expands on how skills act as multipliers:

“Skills weren’t just a way to track experience.

They were multipliers.

If two people practiced the sword the same number of hours under the same instructor, the one with [Basic Swordsmanship] would improve faster. Sharper movements. Cleaner reactions. Fewer mistakes. Because the skill wasn’t just a badge, it was a framework. A lens that shaped how your body absorbed experience.

Skills made training more efficient.

And they weren’t limited to combat.”

I wanted to pick [Junior Officer (Cadet)] the moment I saw it. The name alone sounded sharp, and I knew this path could help me rise faster, maybe even reach sergeant or lieutenant.But I forced myself to slow down. Excitement could cloud judgment.

I went through every class option first. Most of them were built on the solid pillars I already knew well: [Soldier’s March (C)], [Guard Duty (C)], and [Defensive Spearplay (C)]. These made sense as the backbone of soldier classes. But when I compared them against my other skills, [Applied Military Theory (UC)] and [Minor Restoration (C)], the fit wasn’t perfect. They worked, yes, but not as the main support.

The officer class was different. [Applied Military Theory (UC)] didn’t just fit, it felt like the core. And the more I focused, the more I could feel it linking together with all my other skills, stitching them into one whole. The synergy was stronger than anything else I’d felt.

That made the choice simple.

I selected [Junior Officer (Cadet)].

The moment I confirmed, another vision came.

At first, only darkness. Then strands of light wove together, sketching shapes in the air. Swords. Spears. Arrows. Bows. Even the frames of siege engines, ballistae, catapults, all pale and unfinished, like drawings made of light.

None of them carried steel or wood. No iron tips, no fletching. They floated in place, silent and ghostly, as if the world was only showing me their outlines.

Then they moved. Spears set into walls. Shields locked together. Bows bent. Siege frames braced tight. All of it shifting as if guided by one steady rhythm. Not chaos, order. Weapons aligned into formation, waiting for a battle that hadn’t begun.

A faint breeze stirred. It brushed past me, curling the pale weapons in its wake. Just a whisper of air. A hint of breath.

And then it was gone.

The vision faded, leaving only words.

Elemental Affinity: Wind - 0.1%

My heart sank. I had hoped for at least 50% or more, something that could really give me power. Erik had 5%. Farid had 50%, and his vision showed wind tearing through a tree, reshaping the land. Mine? A breeze on the cheek.

I’d read that those with over 80% affinity saw visions of elemental birth, or even Tier 7 beasts locked in combat. Mine looked like nothing. A joke.

Before I could dwell on it, another flash struck me, short and sharp.

I saw myself killing Alpha during the six-month test. The memory of fear twisted into something new.

Achievement unlocked: Overcoming Your Fears.

You have fought a foe stronger than you even before Awakening. +1 Willpower.

STATUS

Name: Edward

Initiate Class: [Junior Officer (Cadet)] – Level 1 (0 / 100 EXP)

Elemental Affinity: 0.1% Wind

Mana Cultivation: Tier 1

HP: 150 / 150

HP Regen: 45/day

MP: 330 / 330

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MP Regen: 43/hr

Physical Attributes

Constitution: 15Strength: 14.5Agility: 12Spiritual Attributes

Intelligence: 18Wisdom: 15Willpower: 10 (9 + 1)Class Skills

[Applied Military Theory (UC)] – Level 5[Soldier’s March (C)] – Level 14[Defensive Spearplay (C)] – Level 15[Guard Duty (C)] – Level 19[Minor Restoration (C)] – Level 14General Skills

[Memory Recall (UC)] – Level 1[Field Medicine (C)] – Level 12[Basic Rune Theory (C)] – Level 10[Siege Rigging (C)] – Level 15[Map Reading (C)] – Level 12[Mana Sensitivity (C)] – Level 5[Hand-to-Hand Combat (C)] – Level 20My status felt ironic. My spiritual stats and mana pool would make even nobles jealous. Having one attribute above fifteen marked you as a prodigy. I had three, two spiritual, one physical. My Strength and Constitution had risen by one, though I wasn’t even sure how. If not for that pitiful flicker of elemental affinity, I might have dared to aim for a small Knight Order. I didn’t know whether to feel proud… or bitter.

When I opened my eyes again, I realized something else. I wasn’t in my tent. I wasn’t in the field medical class where I had been before I fainted.

The air was thick with vinegar and herbs. Wooden rafters overhead, blackened by smoke. A row of rough cots lined the stone walls, each with a straw mattress and a bucket shoved beneath it. The whole place smelled of sweat, iron, and rot.

The door groaned open. A man walked in. Broad shoulders, eyes sharp as blades. His steps were heavy, certain.

I had never met him before.

Captain Cassian Varro – POV

“So, Captain, is he cleared?” Lieutenant Clifford asked, stiff-backed at my side.

“The healer found no parasite. No forbidden craft in him.” My voice was flat “His record holds. Still, one wrong answer, and he is gone. Were it not for the Count’s eye upon him, I’d have cast him out already. I’ve no time for boys who will never reach Expert Tier”

I had already analyzed him. Found nothing else amiss. His breaking the threshold was likely just a magical anomaly

Clifford’s jaw tightened. He hid it well, but I caught the flicker in his eyes. He knew his path ended at lieutenant. My words cut deeper than I meant.

Mage Aurelia said the boy’s affinity had been scoured thin, worn down by three days of drawing in raw mana while unconscious. It mirrored what [Soldier’s Breathing] does, strengthening the body at the cost of a slight dulling of elemental talent. Only in his case, the effect was far harsher. His muscles hardened, his recovery quickened… but his affinity should all but collapsed. And yet the boy awakened a threshold breaker, and so far as we know, without the crutch of any noble treasure. Only the second natural case in all the kingdom’s history.

Had his affinity touched even fifty percent, I would have bartered every favor I possess to claim him for my house. The Dukes themselves would have clawed for such a prize.

Clifford spoke again, carefully. “Captain Varro… according to his profile, he placed highest in the written exam. If he petitions for Intelligence, I will see his name carried to your desk.”

“Do so. I won’t interfere with your work. If he fails the field, he’ll scratch ledgers until his back breaks.” My eyes shifted. The boy stirred, waking.

I stepped forward into the infirmary, let my mana roll free, and activated [Compel Truth (R)]. Heavy and grinding, it pressed into the stone until the chamber itself groaned.

“I’ll have truth from you,” I said, voice flat as iron. “If you’ve lied about your birth, your blood, or your ties, you’re finished here. And if you’ve betrayed Avalon, then I’ll end you myself.”

He stiffened. Lips trembling. Chest heaving.

“Where were you born?”

“Oxspell.”

The syllable cracked out. Thin. Shaken. My mana told me it was true.

“Any oaths sworn beyond Avalon? Any foreign ties?”

“No.”

True again, though the pause was long. His jaw locked.

“Your blood. Noble, or common?”

“Common”

Plain. Honest. Guarded.

“Are you a spy?”

“No.”

The word carried less tremor. He steadied himself under the weight.

I pressed harder, mana thick as iron filings in the lungs. “Then answer what matters most. If Avalon commands it, will you give your life for the realm?”

His eyes widened. His chest bucked once, twice. I felt him fight the pull of the skill, straining to hold something back. Few at Tier Two can resist me at all. Yet this boy, fresh awakened, dragged the silence out longer than I thought possible.

At last the word tore from him, quiet but unflinching.

“No.”

He shut his eyes, braced for steel.

The chains of mana hummed. Truth.

A refusal born of will.

I eased the weight away, studying him. His face was pale, damp with sweat. His spirit was stronger than his frame. Stronger than most men twice his age.

A boy who would not die cheaply. And if the army could make recruits ready to die without reason in a single year, we’d be a cult, not a army. The years ahead would give him reasons enough to die.

Edward – POV

The air changed. Thickened. Not air at all, mana. It pressed into me like wet stone, a weight in my lungs, a hand closing around my throat. Worse than pressure was the pull. A skill. It reached inside, clawing at my thoughts, dragging truth upward whether I wished it or not.

His voice cut like iron.

“I’ll have truth from you,” He said, voice flat as iron. “If you’ve lied about your birth, your blood, or your ties, you’re finished here. And if you’ve betrayed Avalon, then I’ll end you myself.”

The weight doubled. Even the cots around me groaned. My chest burned.

If I spoke too much, I’d betray myself.

So I clamped my mouth shut, trying to keep it to one word at a time. Safer. Less chance of slipping.

“Where were you born?”

“Oxspell.”

The syllable left me raw. My tongue wanted to explain about another life, another world, but I bit it back. His skill tore at me, searching for cracks.

“Any oaths sworn beyond Avalon? Any foreign ties?”

Faces flickered in my mind. Family I’d never see again. Steel towers, not stone walls. The urge to speak was sharp as a hook in my throat.

“No.”

The word rasped free.

“Your blood. Noble, or common?”

“Common.”

Safe. I was never noble-born.

“Are you a spy?”

“No.”

That one came easier. I forced my breath to steady, the way I used to before exams. My lungs still screamed, ribs aching, but I could hold.

Then the pressure deepened again, grinding into marrow. My vision blurred at the edges.

“Then tell me,” His’s voice rumbled, stone on stone. “If Avalon commands it, will you give your life for the realm?”

My heart lurched. Die for a king I’ve never sworn to? For a war I barely understand?

The skill coiled inside me, ripping at my silence. I tried to resist, to hold the word back, to cage it. For an instant, I thought I could.

But the pressure was merciless. My lips moved before I could stop them.

“No.”

The word struck the stone like a hammer. I squeezed my eyes shut, braced for his blade.

Nothing.

The weight eased. Air flooded back into my chest, ragged and cold. I shook, but I was still breathing. Yet even then, I wasn’t sure who he truly was.