I was Drafted Into a War as the Only Human

Bruma held the fifteen-foot pocket of air steady—an invisible dome of sanctuary pressed into the crushing depths of the Grey Sea. For one hour, just as she promised, she kept it intact. The walls around them hissed and groaned with pressure, but her gravitational pulse didn’t waver.

That hour was Lucy’s only reprieve. It wasn’t nearly enough to fully restore his mana—or recover after channeling both atomic radiation and the crucible of grace—but it was something. By the time he stirred awake, about a third of his divine reserves had trickled back into him.

And in Lucy’s case, even one-third of his mana was more than Gindu, Llarm, and Eri’s full capacity combined.

Now, that unlikely cohort was marching through a tunnel of flame and wind at the bottom of the sea.

Lucy led the way, conjuring a massive cylinder of searing fire ahead of them, its heat cutting through the cold abyss. The flames didn’t burn like normal—they pushed outward with purpose, parting the sea like a divine plow.

A breath later, he followed it with wind, sealing the fire’s path in a tunnel of rushing air. Instead of the towering vertical cylinder he had formed during the leviathan battle, this one stretched horizontally—an arched corridor blazing eastward through the depths.

But this time, he didn’t bear the burden alone. Llarm flanked the left side of the group, manipulating his own winds to stabilize the air pressure and ease the strain on Lucy. The gusts weren’t powerful but focused, steady, and loyal, just like their caster.

Bruma brought up the rear, her gravitational aura reinforcing the inner wall of the air pocket, pressing outward against the weight of the sea itself.

Together, they moved through the abyss like a slow-moving storm front—part flame, part wind, part stubborn will.

As they walked, their footsteps carved faint lines through the runes etched into the seafloor—and with each one disturbed, the Grey Sea’s call to swim deeper faded, until it vanished entirely.

The air was frigid. Despite the fire constantly flaring ahead of them, the chill of the deep clung to Lucy’s skin like frostbite wrapped in mist. He shivered, tugging the shredded remnants of his shirt around his torso. The Leviathan had taken his armor and weapon in their brutal clash, exposing much of his pale skin to the bitter cold. Deep bruises stained his ribs like wine beneath cracked porcelain.