I was Drafted Into a War as the Only Human

"LLarm, stay focused!" Darfin's voice, sharp as a blade and beautiful as a song, sliced through the chaos of battle, snapping Llarm out of his distraction.

The wind elf winced, pulling his gaze away from the battlefield far below. 'Is he... fighting a general?!' Llarm screamed inside his head, panic shooting through him like a lightning bolt.

Without missing a beat, he summoned a fresh gust of wind, sending it barreling across the field. The invisible force knocked a blade off course, saving a dragonkin soldier from a quick, messy death.

From his position on the rear cliff—elevated a hundred feet above the frontlines—Llarm had an unbroken view of the war below. Well, mostly. The lumbering giants moving across the battlefield were like mountains with legs, obscuring everything in their monstrous wake.

But Llarm had a secret weapon: the wind itself.

Thanks to Darfin's brutal training (and more than a few cracked ribs from "friendly" spars), Llarm had learned to feel the battlefield through air currents. His wind constantly spiraled across the field, brushing against bodies, armor, and spells—an unseen network of information only he could understand.

He wasn't perfect at it yet; he could barely distinguish individuals, but he had trained enough to recognize a few important presences. One of them stood out like a beacon in the swirling storm right now: his best friend.

Lucy had entered the fray between two generals.

The realization hit Llarm like a punch to the gut. His knees almost buckled.

'I mean... I'm the AMAZING LLARM, and even I wouldn't fight a general!' he thought frantically, running a hand through his already-messy blond hair. 'What the hell are you doing, best friend?!'

Unable to contain himself, Llarm threw himself into his signature hero pose, hands planted firmly on his hips, chest puffed out so far it hurt, chin tilted to the sky.