Second Life as a Soldier

I made a small change in the last chapter added a short scene where Edward collects the Meditation technique. Here’s the edited paragraph:

SpoilerWe all dispersed. Michael and I headed to the library to collect the mana cultivation method. The process was simple enough: hand over our badges to a waiting private, sit through a short demonstration, and receive a thin booklet. The method itself felt like little more than structured meditation, a measured rhythm of breath meant to steady focus and draw in mana from crystals..

From there we made our way to the mess hall, where I spotted Walter and the other privates gathered around a table. Colin and Owen traded jokes in the back as if this were just another routine day. I forced down salted pork and flatbread, a lump of nerves thick in my throat. Excitement thrummed beneath my fear. The Untamed had earned its name honestly. Even the fort itself, wrapped in forest, marked only the edge. Beyond lay a stretch where Tier-Six beasts roamed, monsters that could wipe out an entire fort. Our route would skim only the outer border, but even there the danger was constant.

We had been marching for only half an hour when the air changed. The forest felt alive around us. Tall trunks rose close together, their leaves forming a vibrant green canopy that broke the sunlight into shifting beams. Ferns and thick undergrowth crowded the path, brushing against our boots as if trying to slow us. In the distance, the chatter of birds echoed back and forth, mixed with the faint rustle of small animals darting through the brush.

But there was something else, the air itself felt heavy. I realized what it meant: we had entered the official outer zone of the Untamed Forest, where the mana density was higher than the fort. My skin prickled, and out of curiosity I activated [Mana Sensitivity (C)].

The first few moments were chaos. Mana flowed and shifted like waves in every direction, each current pushing at me all at once. My head filled with signals, too many to sort out, like hearing a hundred voices at once in the next room. This was my first time using the skill in such a mana-rich place. I forced my breathing steady, pushed through the noise, and slowly the storm settled.

With [Mana Sensitivity (C)] active, the world felt like walking through a heavy current of air, pressure brushing past my skin from every side.

It also gave me a rough map of the world around me. Shapes formed, faint outlines of people and beasts, but nothing sharp. Michael’s presence was thin and flickering, like a small candle. Colin’s was stronger, broader, steady like a heavy torch. I couldn’t tell exact tiers, only that Colin’s weight of mana was far greater than Michael’s or mine.

As the feeling sharpened little by little, wonder crept over me. This was a new way of seeing the forest, one hidden behind the senses of normal sight. Fascinating. I made a note to spend more time practicing [Mana Sensitivity (C)] while we traveled.

“Michael! Edward! Jack! On me, Stoneback ahead, looks like an early Tier Two!” Colin’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts.

We advanced to the ridge he had pointed out. The beast waited half-exposed in a patch of sun, an armored hump, its back covered in plates of stone like welded shields. It stood three feet at the shoulder and stretched seven feet long, a squat bulk that resembled a moving rock more than an animal. The Stoneback’s carapace glinted, each plate dull and ridged. Its head was low, eyes small but sharp, watching us, counting our steps instead of charging in like most Tier Ones.

Colin barked orders. “First, test it. Michael and Edward, avoid direct hits. Aim for the neck, that’s the weak spot. Don’t rush.”

I tightened my straps, lifted my shield, and leveled my spear. I called on [Guard Duty (C)] to sharpen my perception and keep in step with my squadmates. Then I let [Defensive Spearplay (C)] guide my stance, measured steps, steady shield, spear ready. Michael took the left, Jack the center, and I held the right. Shields overlapped, spears angled forward.

The Stoneback shifted, rolling its weight and showing a hint of flank. A dry smell of stone dust filled the air.

“Jack, bait it slow,” Colin called. “Edward, don’t push too far. Michael, wait for your chance.”

The first clash was a test. Jack feinted low and the Stoneback lashed out, its foreclaw slamming into his shield. Wood creaked under the impact. If I had taken that blow head-on, I would have been thrown back. I shoved forward, feeling the shock rattle up my arm. The beast struck again, heavier, and I stumbled half a step. My spear jabbed but slid harmlessly off its stony ridge.

“Keep it moving!” Colin shouted. “Don’t let it settle! Pry at the plates, look for the seam.”

We circled and pressed it, thrusting and pulling back. Pressure, bait, retreat. Then Michael lunged too hard at a narrow gap. The Stoneback’s foreleg slammed into his shield. He caught it but lost balance and dropped to one knee. The beast swiveled, teeth bared.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“Get up! Don’t panic. Create distance and rejoin the line!” Colin ordered. “Jack, hold it. Wait for the throat.”

Jack braced, moving left then right, slamming his shield to draw its focus. The Stoneback lunged again, slow but crushing. Jack took the blow and shoved at an angle, forcing its head back and exposing the narrow gap where the neck met the shell. A thin strip of flesh stretched there, straining.

“Now!” Colin roared.

I thrust with all I had. The spearhead bit through. Metal scraped stone and the beast let out a howl like breaking rock. It twisted, convulsed, then collapsed, crashing into the dirt hard enough to shake my teeth.

We stood, gasping, our shields sagging, our arms numb. Michael was back on his feet, blood on his lip, but he managed a grin. Jack’s spear quivered in the carcass, dust clinging to the haft.

For a moment, silence held. Then the squad closed in around us, giving small nods, brief, professional approval. Pride swelled in me. My first Tier Two kill, brought down with grit and teamwork. It felt like a wound that hardened into a small, hard-earned victory.

Then a shadow stretched over the clearing. Sergeant Fenward’s boots crunched the leaves, his expression flat as stone. The pride in my chest faltered even before he spoke. His voice came in that bored half-tone that cut sharper than any blade.

“You two are really green, huh?” No warmth, no recognition. Just a cold dismissal.

The silence that followed was heavier than the Stoneback’s shell. Whatever victory we thought we’d earned shrank to nothing under his gaze.

“Let’s walk a few paces back,” he added, tone as casual as if he were assigning chores. “We wait thirty minutes to an hour to see if that scream attracts anything. You two rest for a while. If it draws something you can handle, you’ll be fighting again.”

The wind drifted through the trees, and I felt the forest pulse slowly, like a body breathing. We waited for nearly an hour. A few scavenger birds landed to peck at the carcass, but they were too low-tier to bother with. I was thankful no higher-tier beasts came sniffing at the Stoneback’s body. Two small predator foxes appeared, and Colin had us handle them individually rather than in formation. He said it made for good reflex and hunting practice.

The first fox crept from the brush, nose twitching as it padded toward the corpse. When it drew close, I stepped forward and drove my spear clean through its chest. The body slumped against the Stoneback’s shell.

Some time later, another fox emerged, slipping from the undergrowth with the same hunger in its eyes. It made for the carcass as well, but Michael intercepted it and skewered the beast before it could sink its teeth in.

Two quick interruptions, nothing more. Then the forest grew still again.

Afterward, Colin ordered us to strip what we could. We took only the top plates from the Stoneback’s back, Tier Two material, good for reinforcing shields or inscribing runes. The rest of the body was left behind; its meat was worthless, the hide packed with stone fragments. From the foxes, we carved some meat, though lean and stringy, which was at least edible.

Dragging the carcasses off the trail was left mostly to the conscripts. I hauled one of the foxes by the hind legs, while Garran and Varric shouldered the Stoneback, heaving its heavy shell deeper into the brush. My job was mainly to keep watch as they worked. There was no point trying to erase the kills; in the wild, beasts would always come. But pushing them farther from the soldier’s trail was standard practice for tactical security.

We marched again after that, a few more hours deeper under the canopy. Along the way we faced other beasts: a pack of four or five wolves that scattered after we cut down two, and later a herd of wild boars that took the whole squad’s effort to bring down. By the time night fell, every one of us was worn thin.

Walter and Garran took first watch. The rest of us slumped by the fire. Colin, Owen, Jack, Michael, and I crouched near the flames, roasting strips of boar meat while the sergeant disappeared into his tent. Before leaving, he’d called out the night schedule, set watch pairs, then left the veterans to handle the rest. Colin, Owen, and Jack had pitched his tent themselves; they were tied to his house, Colin said, and would join it proper after their years in the army.

“You all did good,” Colin said with a grin. “Jack, you’ve lined up your style better, you weren’t overreaching and dragging these greenies into danger. And you two,” he nodded at Michael and me, “didn’t freeze up against a Tier Two. That’s what counts. Michael, work on your patience. Tier Twos and Threes aren’t dumb, but they’re still beasts. Think before you swing, and you’ll always have a bit of an edge.” He pulled a slab of boar meat, skewered it, and set it over the fire. “I’ll be more careful,” Michael said, wiping his mouth. I just nodded.

Colin waved it off.

“So,” I asked, “did you all train before coming to Fort Darrow? Stonegate barracks?”

“I did mine at Stonegate,” Owen said, leaning back on his elbows.

“Jack and I trained in another town,” Colin said, turning the spit slow and steady.

“Oh? Where?” I asked.

“Big town called Briarmont,” Jack answered with a grin. “Eight days’ march from Stonegate.”

”Briarmont, huh.” I looked to Owen. “Clifford already there then?”

Owen snorted. ”What do you mean, ‘then’? I’m twenty, not forty. Clifford’s been around for more than ten years.

That caught me. Owen looked closer to twenty-six, maybe twenty-seven. Jack looked his age, though.

I glanced at Colin, still bent over the fire like it was holy work. “What about Walter?” I asked low. The man had been a mystery since day one. I’d thought he just didn’t like newcomers, but today I saw he barely spoke to anyone, even the other privates.

Colin shrugged. “Don’t know the full story. Heard he was close to promotion once, edging toward Tier Three in both class and mana.”

That made sense. It explained why even the lieutenant seemed to trust him, and why four conscripts were scared to cross him.

“So what happened? How’d he end up in this squad?” I asked.

Colin shook his head. “There’s a story there, and not a pretty one. But it’s not my place. All I’ve got are scraps, rumors passed around.”

The fire popped, casting brief shadows across his face. We ate our fill, and afterward I pulled out the meditation method near the fire. I’d been curious about it since morning and finally had the time to try it out.