I was Drafted Into a War as the Only Human

The two monsters—one forged of fragile, battered human flesh, the other a nightmare of green scales and ghostly smoke—clashed beneath the crushing weight of the Grey Sea.

They traded brutal blows like dueling gods, each movement a collision of fury and survival.

Above them, high within the spiraling cylinder of roaring wind and fire, Llarm hovered, staring downward with wide, astonished eyes.

"I’ve never seen him fight like this," Llarm thought, heart pounding. "He’s like a wild beast."

He had entered the wind tunnel minutes earlier, barely maintaining flight in its turbulent spiral. Now he floated near the top, the walls of churning air groaning around him, peering down into the abyss where Lucy battled the leviathan alone. Every instinct screamed at him to fly down and help. But he didn’t. Couldn’t.

If I go in there now, I’ll die. Worse, he’d be a distraction or a liability. Lucy’s only shot was doing this alone.

So instead, Llarm waited, eyes sharp and ready. If even the smallest window opened to support his friend, he’d take it.

Below, amid the chaos of swirling water and fractured magic, Lucy stood alone on the stone platform, chest heaving with ragged breath.

"Oh, you’re mad, aren’t you?" he roared, grinning like a lunatic. "Then come do something about it!"

He could feel the rage swelling in the water. It wasn’t just a sensation—it was pressure. It rippled through the sea like a heartbeat of hatred, pulsing toward him with monstrous intent.

Lucy threw his arms wide, palms facing the broken sky above. The magical tunnel shimmered around him, awash in hues of gold and bruised violet light. Fire and wind twisted in a dance of chaos. His soaked cloak snapped behind him like a torn flag, and blood ran down his forearm in lazy rivulets.