I was Drafted Into a War as the Only Human

"Shit nugget."

That was Lucy’s first thought as he soared through the sky, launched like a broken spear straight toward the colossal pillar of divine fury—a blue flame wrapped in blinding white light.

The wind howled like a beast around him, lashing at his body and whipping his raven-black hair back in wild, chaotic strands. The air clawed at his skin, each gust growing hotter, sharper, more violent.

"He had to throw me into the path of literal destruction! What a shitty mentor," Lucy muttered internally, his head shaking slightly—though whether in disbelief or agony, even he didn’t know.

As he hurtled closer, the light devoured his vision. It was no longer a distant threat—it was here, consuming the sky. The sheer brilliance pierced through his half-lidded eyes, painting his mind white. His skin began to blister. The heat was unnatural—biblical.

Instinct took over.

Wind surged to life around him, responding to his call. He couldn’t fly—not yet—but he could resist. He spun the wind into a dense, swirling sphere around his body, rotating it faster and faster until it screamed like a turbine—a barrier between him and annihilation.

It worked—briefly.

But the divine beam was no ordinary force. As Lucy drew closer, the barrier faltered. The wind slowed, stuttered, then screamed as it ignited. Blue fire licked at the edges of the sphere, white-hot brilliance pressing inward like the gaze of a merciless god.

The heat punched into the orb. The air inside thickened, warped, and boiled.

"It’s like being trapped in a sauna made from the damn sun," Lucy thought, as sweat drenched him in sheets and his lungs ached from the stifling air.