I was Drafted Into a War as the Only Human
Chapter 52: Lucys Manuals

Chapter 52: Lucys Manuals

"So, those are the rules!" Seraphine declared, her voice laced with triumphant cheer. Her radiant smile practically lit the room. "After I beat them in poker, I added a little clause of my own—Giants are barred from participating in the games."

She gave a proud little nod, like a queen admiring her checkmate.

"The only other rule that should affect your decision-making," she continued, twirling a lock of her silver hair, "is that under no circumstances may the gods intervene in the War Games—unless the event specifically calls for it."

Adgrun’s crimson eyes widened, and a grin spread across his draconic face. "So we get to pick our own teams?"

"Yes!" Seraphine chirped, clapping her hands together.

Adgrun’s red-scaled fist shot into the air. "Time to get famous!"

Tara rolled her eyes so hard that it was a wonder she hadn’t passed out. She jabbed a finger at him. "Will you shut up about that already? It’s all you’ve been saying since the Games were announced!"

"I’m manifesting," Adgrun said, folding his arms smugly across his chest. "Not that someone like you would understand."

He closed his eyes as if that ended the conversation. It didn’t.

Tara looked ready to claw his face off—but Lucy beat her to the punch, his voice light and mischievous.

"Wow," he said with a smirk. "You two bicker like an old married couple. Maybe Fenara was wrong about me and Tara. You and Adgrun make a much lovelier pair."

He expected a barrage of insults from Tara. But instead, silence.

Then he saw it—the unmistakable flush rising in both their cheeks.

’Huh. Nailed it.’

Most people would’ve taken the win and backed off. Lucy wasn’t like most people.

He sauntered over to them and inhaled dramatically.

Tara recoiled a step. "What the hell are you doing?"

He sniffed again, then tilted his head as if deciphering a fine wine. "Hmm... Yep. I think I smell love in the air."

Adgrun didn’t flinch, keeping up his charade of indifference, but Lucy didn’t miss the twitch in his jaw.

Tara, however, turned full tomato. She pointed at Lucy like she was about to cast a spell. "Oh, shut up! You’re one to talk! Everyone knows you’re in love with the goddess!"

That hit harder than he expected. Heat surged into Lucy’s face, and he fumbled for words.

"I’m not—what? I’m not in love with her!"

He paused.

’Why the hell am I blushing?’

What started as bickering spiraled into full-blown verbal warfare. The three of them were hurling accusations like rotten fruit.

"I see how you look at him," Lucy snapped. "You’re down bad!"

"Oh, please," Tara fired back. "You’re one to talk, you lust goblin. All the palace girls avoid you like the plague because they think your eyes can see through their shirts!"

The room descended into chaos—until a sound like sunlight breaking through a thundercloud filled the space.

Seraphine laughed.

It was a melodic, airy sound, so perfect it made the air feel warmer.

"I’m sure Adgrun is thrilled to hear how much you both love us," she said, still chuckling, "but we really should return to the matter at hand."

Lucy froze. Slowly, stiffly, he turned toward the front of the room where Seraphine still sat—regal, glowing, radiant.

’Crap. I forgot she was in here.’

He scratched the back of his head and gave an awkward, crooked smile. "Right... sorry. Please continue."

But Seraphine only beamed at him, her smile like moonlight on water. "Oh, I don’t have anything else. I’ll leave it to you all to figure out how to pick your teams... fairly."

Lucy blinked. ’So you really were just enjoying the show.’

She winked at him, quick and playful, then vanished into shimmering light.

Lucy stood there, still a little dazed, before returning to Tara and Adgrun, who had recovered from their red-faced embarrassment.

"I’m taking Gindu, Llarm, and Eri," he said, his tone steady now. "I’ll choose the other two once you guys submit your picks."

Adgrun gave a firm nod, his red-scaled arms crossed over his chest. "Fine by me. They’re not flashy enough anyway. Real fame needs flash."

Tara rolled her eyes so hard Lucy thought they might fall out of her head. Ignoring Adgrun completely, she turned to Lucy. "Anyway. About your team... there’s someone I want you to consider."

Lucy raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Who’s the lucky soul?"

Tara sighed like the universe’s weight had just landed on her shoulders. "My stepbrother. Since Seraphine announced the War Games, he’s been on my case nonstop. I don’t want him on my team—he and I butt heads too much. We’d tank the team just arguing."

Lucy instinctively wanted to reject the idea. Feeling responsible for his own friends’ lives was hard enough—now she wanted to add family to the mix? He could already picture Tara’s face if her brother got hurt or worse.

But another thought nagged at him.

’How many people would want to fight on my team?’

People still looked at him sideways. His divine rank didn’t matter to the ones who saw a human first and everything else second. Respect didn’t come easy—not in this world.

In the end, greed won.

"Alright," Lucy said at last. "Have him meet the rest of the team tomorrow morning. Courtyard."

Tara gave a short nod and left the room without another word.

Adgrun trailed behind her, muttering something about "flashier teammates."

...

That night

Lucy lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. Sleep refused to come. His thoughts kept looping back around the same doubts.

’Can I lead a team?’

He’d always been the tech guy who followed orders, fixed the comms, and stayed out of the line of fire. Now, people’s lives were tied to his decisions. One bad call, and someone wouldn’t come back.

He sighed aloud. "It’s whatever. Worst-case scenario, I use that new trick up my sleeve."

He glanced down at his wrist.

"Well... almost up my sleeve."

With practiced ease, Lucy delved into his mind—into the strange mental space where the manuals now lived. Over the past three months since the Ithriel battle, he discovered he could track completed and in-progress manuals like a living library.

Completed Manuals

Fire Cylinder: 18/18

Double Strike: 52/52

Wind Manipulation: 27/27

Crucible of Grace: 38/38

Atomic Radiation: 10/10

In Progress

Water Manipulation: 4/19

Earth Bullets: 3/17

Mana Circulation: 15/100

Infernal Flow: 2/67

Mass Teleportation: 124/150

...

His eyes lingered on Mana Circulation. He had advanced three more pages over the past few months—not a lot, but he felt the difference. His control was tighter and his spells sharper.

He’d also noticed something curious during this time. Manuals fell into two distinct categories.

The first type refused to activate until fully completed—dead weight until unlocked. Like Mana Circulation, the second gave access to its abilities from page one.

Then his eyes dropped to Infernal Flow.

2 out of 67.

Just seeing it made his skin crawl.

The blue flame. The way it seared his nerves raw and left him writhing in its divine heat. The memory alone made him wince.

And still, he’d tried to convince Adgrun to teach him the ability. Of course, the scaled bastard refused.

Which left Lucy with one option: throw himself into the flames during training like a lunatic and hope to survive.

It had worked. Barely. He earned one more page that way.

"Stingy bastard," Lucy muttered with a smirk.

But none of that compared to the manual beneath Infernal Flow. That one had him excited.

For three months now, Lucy had been spending more and more time with Seraphine. Everyone thought it was because he was head-over-heels in love with her.

He let them think that.

In truth, he had a plan.

He’d noticed something: A manual flickered—reacted—every time she teleported him in or out of a location. That gave him an idea.

A brilliant, sneaky idea.

So he played the part. He told Seraphine he wanted to see the universe, to know what he was fighting for. Every few days, she took him to some distant world, her teleportation lighting up space and soul alike.

He smiled to himself.

"Almost there."

And with that thought, Lucy finally drifted off to sleep.