I was Drafted Into a War as the Only Human
Chapter 54: The Lovley Clouds

Chapter 54: The Lovley Clouds

"Don’t blame me if you get injured, short stuff," Fenric said, stepping into the courtyard. His blade hung limply at his side, but the glint in his amber eyes said otherwise.

His voice was low, rough—like gravel rubbed raw by adrenaline.

Eri smirked, drawing her short sword into a ready stance. The morning wind tugged at her cropped brown hair.

"Like a puppy could ever hurt me."

A wild grin split Fenric’s face. Not a smile—a predator’s thrill. He didn’t reply.

He lunged.

One moment, he stood still; the next, he was a blur of motion. His blade arced horizontally with brutal speed.

CLANG. Eri caught it, steel ringing out sharp and clear. But even as she deflected the blow, his free hand slashed forward with claws bared.

She jerked back just in time. The tips of his claws clipped her hair, sending strands fluttering into the air.

Then the onslaught began.

Another sword strike—then another—and another.

Relentless. Erratic. Wild. His movements were jagged and feral, not like a trained warrior, but like an animal cornering prey. Each blow was a scream of violence wrapped in motion.

Eri barely kept pace. Her arms trembled under the strain of parrying, her footing faltering as she danced between swipes, sidesteps, and deflections.

From the stone steps, Lucy watched with narrowed eyes.

"I’ve never seen a style like that. It’s not technique—it’s instinct. Chaos refined into brutality."

Beside him, Gindu was unusually quiet. The blue dragonkin sat stiffly, thumbs fidgeting.

He looked... worried.

’Haven’t seen him like this since the sorting crystal,’ Lucy thought.

Down below, Fenric’s blade sliced past Eri’s guard and kissed her cheek. A thin line of red bloomed against her skin.

She didn’t flinch—but Fenric’s pupils dilated.

And then—

He changed.

His strikes grew wilder. Sloppier, but faster. He stopped aiming to win—he started aiming to maim.

Slashes blurred for her eyes. One nearly took her left. Another whistled past her ear, and a brutal overhead swing forced her into a desperate dive.

His claws snapped through the air, hands twitching like they were trying to tear her apart, not spar with her. A growl slipped from his throat.

Lucy’s eyes narrowed.

Fenric was scratching at his neck again—hard. Blood welled under his claws. His teeth were bared now, breathing raggedly.

He wasn’t just fighting. He was unraveling.

More cuts bloomed across Eri’s arms and legs. Her uniform darkened in patches. She stumbled, and for the first time, looked unsure.

"We should stop this," Llarm said, stepping forward, fists clenched.

"Eri’s going to get hurt."

Gindu nodded, swallowing. "I agree with the yellow wyrmling."

But Lucy didn’t answer.

He was locked in, studying every twist of Fenric’s form. The way his body whipped unnaturally mid-swing. The way he flowed not with grace, but with bloodlust.

He was a storm in skin. Controlled only by the limits of his madness.

Then it happened.

A powerful deflection sent Eri stumbling back. She lost her balance, just for a moment.

Enough.

Fenric’s eyes blazed.

He lunged, claws outstretched, aimed straight for her throat.

But he never got there.

In a blink, Lucy was between them.

He caught Fenric’s wrist mid-strike, stopping the claw inches from Eri’s neck. Mana crackled around his hand like lightning coiled for war.

Eri gasped behind him, frozen. Blood ran down her face.

Fenric... grinned.

He looked insane.

Eyes blown wide, mouth curled into a crooked, jagged grin. Scratches from his claws striped his neck like twisted war paint.

"That’s enough for today, you junked-out beast," Lucy said coldly.

Fenric didn’t answer. He twisted, slashing his sword toward Lucy’s head.

Whoosh. Lucy ducked clean under it.

’This asshole.’

Lucy yanked Fenric’s arm and slammed him into the ground.

THUD.

The wolf hybrid’s body went limp, unconscious on impact.

Lucy exhaled, then turned to Eri.

She was still standing, barely, her chest heaving with every breath.

"You should go before he wakes up. I’m pretty sure his abilities are some blood-triggered madness."

Eri nodded silently, then staggered toward Llarm and Gindu. Both rushed to meet her, worry etched deep in their faces.

Lucy remained, lowering himself onto the grass. He closed his eyes and resumed his mana circulation. Let the burning river inside him settle.

Minutes passed.

Then, a groan.

Fenric stirred. His eyes fluttered open—no longer wild, just bleary and confused.

"What... happened?"

Lucy raised an eyebrow, standing over him.

"Oh, you know—wild wolf loses his mind, tries to decapitate a cat, then gets bodied by a very dashing captain. Something like that."

Fenric winced, rubbing the back of his head. Then a grin returned—not feral this time, but amused.

Lucy extended a hand.

"Welcome to the team."

Fenric gripped it tightly. "Hell, yeah."

And just like that, Lucy had found his fifth member.

Later that night, Lucy found himself once again in Seraphine’s company. She stood bathed in moonlight, leaning over the balcony rail like some divine sculpture given breath. Her beauty was undeniable—ethereal even—but Lucy forced his gaze away.

Every time he looked at her too long, the ghost of war returned. Screams. Blood. Burning skies.

She was a paradox: breathtaking and terrifying.

So instead, he focused on the plan.

’Okay. Time to trick a literal goddess into giving me more pages in my manual. Easy. Not suicidal at all.’

He cleared his throat and looked at her. She hadn’t noticed his presence yet—her gaze fixed upward, drinking in the stars like they were old friends.

"So, do I need to bring a sword, a notebook, or a raincoat for this little field trip?" he asked, aiming for casual and landing somewhere between sarcasm and mild panic.

Seraphine giggled—soft, musical, and oddly warm.

"Only my favorite place in the entire universe."

Lucy blinked.

’Her favorite place? What does that even mean? What could someone like her possibly consider special after living forever?’

His brain scrambled to imagine it, but came up blank. Cities of gold? An endless battlefield? A cosmic library?

He flashed the same smile he used in corporate icebreakers—equal parts enthusiasm and existential dread.

"Well, lead the way, Miss."

Suddenly, the air shimmered around them. A spiral of vibrant green light erupted, swirling like a living vortex. The wind whipped through his hair, and a glowing page in his manual fluttered open as the energy pulled them in.

Then, silence.

No balcony. No stars.

Just...

Clouds.

Lucy blinked, squinting at the soft, pale world around him. He was sitting on something impossibly plush and cool, like a cushion spun from starlight and breath. He looked down.

Clouds. Thick, white, and endless. Beneath him, above him, all around him. He was perched on a cloud mountain—an entire peak of vapor floating high in the heavens.

The sky above was a tapestry of shifting colors. The sun dipped low on the horizon, painting everything in molten hues of gold, crimson, and violet. Light danced on the clouds like fire catching on silk. Each breeze carried the scent of ozone and wildflowers—impossible, surreal.

Far below, more clouds stretched in all directions like an endless cotton sea. Beyond the peak, nestled gently into the clouds like it belonged there, was a small village. Stone and brick cottages rested peacefully among the mist, their chimneys puffing out coils of silver smoke. Lamps glowed with amber light, and laughter echoed softly from the distance—children playing in clouds like they were snowbanks.

Seraphine sat to his left, legs tucked beneath her. Her expression was joyful as she watched the sky shift into night.

"Well?" she asked. "How do you like it?"

Lucy tore his eyes from the scenery, then scooped a handful of clouds. They clung loosely to his fingers, cool and light, dissipating as he toyed with them.

"Okay, I know I’ve said this before—but this officially breaks the ’Lucy’s Sanity Index.’ We’re sitting on clouds now. Literal clouds. This is illegal in at least three laws of physics."

Seraphine giggled again.

"The universe is a crazy place. The first time I came here, I was terrified I’d fall through the clouds and vanish into the sea below."

Lucy paused. "The sea?"

With a flick of her finger, the clouds far beneath them parted like silk curtains being drawn. Beneath the veil was a sea so clear, so impossibly still, it looked like polished glass stretched to the edge of existence. From this height, Lucy could see fish gliding beneath the surface—entire schools flickering like silver arrows.

His mouth fell open.

"It’s beautiful."

The wind danced past them, lifting strands of Seraphine’s pale hair into the air. Lucy’s dark hair fluttered beside it. Far off, the village rang with warmth—laughter, faint music, the clink of dishes being washed. The air smelled like spring rain and something sweet and ancient.

"It is, isn’t it?" she said.

Then, gently, she rested her head against Lucy’s shoulder.

He stiffened—just a little—but didn’t pull away.

’Focus, Lucy. Teleportation > personal space. You can do this. Just pretend she’s your boss giving you a raise while standing too close.’

Her voice softened.

"Now... imagine if this place were covered in eternal darkness. Would you still call it beautiful?"

Lucy tilted his head slightly, considering it.

"No. I suppose I wouldn’t."

She gestured toward the village nestled in the clouds.

"And what about them? The villagers?"

He followed her gaze. "What about them?"

"Now imagine: instead of homes, there’s a colosseum. Instead of laughter, screams. Blood on cloudstone. A place of battle, forever. Would you still say it’s beautiful?"

His answer was immediate this time.

"No. Definitely not."

Her voice dipped into something deeper, colder.

"That’s Ravun’s vision. Eternal war to feed his insatiable hunger. And Nyxaris? She dreams of drowning the universe in shadow. No light. No warmth. Only secrets and silence."

She didn’t even need to mention Ithriel.

Lucy looked again at the children leaping through clouds, the laughter rolling like music over the mountaintop.

"They’d become slaves."

"That’s right." Her voice trembled slightly. "The other gods have twisted dreams. I’m not trying to excuse the blood I’ve spilled, but that’s why I must win, Lucy, why I can’t afford to lose. If I fail, this beauty and peace will be erased."

Lucy didn’t hesitate.

"Seraphine... you don’t have to justify yourself to me anymore." His voice was quiet, but firm.

"I get it. You’re fighting for something bigger. For the people. I just wish it didn’t have to cost so much blood."

A single tear slipped down her cheek, catching the sun’s last light as it vanished behind the clouds.

"Me too."

For a long time, they just sat there, in silence, watching the stars begin to wake above them, watching the clouds drift beneath them, watching a perfect world teeter on the edge of war.