I was Drafted Into a War as the Only Human

Lucy stared up at the darkened sky. It was suffocating now, choked by thick clouds of smoke that painted everything in shades of ash and despair. The acrid scent burned his nostrils with each labored breath.

He let out a long, broken sigh and turned toward Ayas, who writhed helplessly on the blood-soaked obsidian floor.

Around him, the war roared on. Clashing metal rang out like discordant bells. Shattered screams pierced the air. Explosions tore through the earth, sending tremors up through his boots.

But Lucy heard none of it.

Only the screaming man-the one he had set on fire-the cries for help. The desperate, choking pleas for mercy grew more gargled with each passing second.

He blocked it all out. He had to. The pleas fell on deaf ears as the flames cast dancing shadows across his face. His heart was a locked door, and no amount of screaming would break it open.

Lucy wasn't going to save him. Ayas' god wasn't coming to save him. Everyone else was trying to save themselves.

But as Ayas' cries grew weaker, quieter, a sickness twisted in Lucy's gut. A frantic urge to run forward, to smother the flames, to drag the man to safety.

'Save him. Take him prisoner. You don't have to do this. You can still walk away clean.'

The thoughts hammered against his conscience. It would have been easy to listen. It would have been so easy to be the hero.

But he knew better.