[Two months later]
"Isn't it hilarious?" Mat mused, laying upside down on his bunk, head lolling over the edge, dark eyes glinting with amusement as he glanced around the dimly lit barracks.
"What is?" Finn asked wearily, not looking up as he ran a cloth over his blade.
"The only time I ever see the kid happy is when he's sleeping."
"And?"
"I mean you gotta wonder" Mat continued. "What type of dreams he's having to manage to put a crack in that mask. I mean he looks on the verge of suicide half the time, and now he's practically grinning.
Do you think nobles have different dreams from the rest of us?"
Petro rolled his eyes, his hulking figure in the middle of stretching out his muscles. "Nobles don't have different dreams Mat" he said in a tone very similar to a parent telling children that aliens aren't real.
"Ahh" Mat said, "But how do you know Petro? Maybe they do have premium dreams."
"Because it's stupid."
"Really? Then give me evidence to say otherwise."
"Are you an idiot Mat" Finn cut in, looking up from his sword.
"No."
"Really? So give me evidence to say otherwise.."
Mat's annoying upside down grin froze.
"All of you shut it" Felt cut in, his sharp grey eyes never looking away from the sleeping white-haired noble.
"Are you sure Petro?"
The blonde-haired goliath nodded sagely. "Yeah. He's definitely gone under the trials."
Felt let out a long heavy breath. "There's no time to teach him. A recently Awakened shouldn't be here, they should be in an academy."
Mat snorted. "What makes you think he'd accept our teaching anyway? We're not exactly best buddies right now."
"Yeah? And whose fault is that" Finn grated, glaring at Mat.
"Don't act like you never turned a blind eye to it yourself."
"It's all of our faults" Felt interrupted. "And now it's our problem. We need to devise a plan to help him, or at least establish some sort of relationship. Where's Castor?"
"Outside sleeping" Petro called, looking up at the roof. "Leave him for now."
"Right, so, anyone got ideas?" Finn asked.
There was silence.
Not one of them could think of a way to approach Arthur without immediately receiving some colourful language telling them to get lost.
"You don't need to worry too much" another voice cut in.
All heads swiveled to the top bunk, above Arthur's. Noah's green eyes wearily considered all of them. It was clear their talking had woken him.
"What do you mean?" Felt asked.
Noah raised an eyebrow. "Do none of you pay attention?"
For the second time, the room was silent.
"Haaah, dumb fucks the lot of you" Noah sighed. "Tell me, when you become a soldier, is there some sort of operation where you trade your brains for brawn?"
Mat was about to open his mouth, but a glare from Felt quietened him immediately.
"He's been saving people dumbasses."
Finn frowned. He had heard of Arthur's exploits during battle, even during the night.
Stories of Arthur appearing out of nowhere and saving dying soldiers.
"Yeah" Felt, "But I don't see how that helps our case."
"Well" Noah yawned. "Those people he saved weren't exactly best buddies with him neither. Of course they didn't fuck him over the way you lot did, but still, Arthur still helped them.
I doubt the guy even knows what it means to truly hate someone…and do you want to know who was one of those lucky victims of his actions?"
He waited for a moment, content to let the silence stretch before delivering the final blow.
"Your dearly lovely Officer Mara."
Everyone froze. Even Mat sat upright, face solemn.
Then, laughter shattered the frozen silence.
Everyone turned to face Felt, expressions ranging to surprise, shock, concern and even outright horror.
The laughter grew, becoming almost unhinged.
"I never thought he could actually do it" Mat muttered to Finn.
Finn nodded seriously. "I always assumed he magically removed it from his body. Who knew he could actually laugh."
After a long moment, Felt regained his composure. "So, the brat managed to save her life. The kid who just awakened mana. This is too good."
He turned away from them, voice levelling into the cold seriousness they were all used to.
"Keep an eye on him. Make sure our little hero survives long enough to get out of this hellhole."
—————————
[Arthur POV]
The sky was a brilliant blue. No, it was more than that. It was vibrant, ecstatic, with not a single dreary cloud in sight. The wind was a gentle cool caress.
It was the kind of day that only came about once a year. A perfect day. A day for a nice stroll, or perhaps some shopping.
For me…all it meant was that the corpses stank.
The suffocating perfume of war was blood, sweat and rot, carried by the cool breeze far and wide for everyone to suffer in.
Surging forward, my spear winking in the sunlight as I tore through flesh and bone.
I couldn't stop. I couldn't be stopped.
Men fell around me. Men, that's what they were. Humans, with dreams, aspirations, perhaps even a lover waiting for them back home. Maybe even a son or daughter to go with it.
I never let myself forget that as I killed them.
Once, long ago, I had thought that such a person would fight so much harder.
That they would go through some sort of flashback, remembering their past, their dreams and loves, and fight so much harder. Adrenaline coursing through them as they impossibly denied death in order to return to the peace of home that they once knew.
But I always had read too many novels.
That idea was wrong.
They all died the same.
Pathetically, easily, finished with a single kiss of a spear.
With the sound of the horn in short bursts, I stepped back from the fighting, moving in a controlled retreat as fresh soldiers surged forward.
Noah was nowhere to be seen.
That was my fault.
He had offered to stick with me multiple times, but I always found some way to dodge the offer.
Ever since Sera's death, I couldn't help but stay away.
The truth was, Noah was a soldier. A true warrior in his heart. The morality of killing had never once affected him. It was just what he did.
But for me…I was made of weaker stuff.
I had been a soldier in two lives.
For a long time I thought that meant my experiences would allow me to shoulder the burden more easily.
Yet, ironically, it was me that was struggling, not Noah.
My body ached with each step, exhausted in ways that even mana surge was failing to dispel.
Each step felt heavier than it should've been. Every second I was awake, I felt impossibly closer to sleep.
But I could ignore that for now.
The first part of this battle, I had been a soldier, a killer, as the brand on my forehead demanded I must be.
Now, it was time to be what I needed to be. Because I refused to let death claim every single soul in this place, without doing a damn thing about it.
The necklace against my chest felt warmer than it should've been.
Disgustingly warm.
—————————-
Noah stumbled into the barracks with the coming night, caked in the War dirt trifecta. Blood, sweat and mud. Every muscle throbbed for rest.
Two months.
Two months of relentless war. Of endless, grinding battle where neither side yielded.
A stalemate drenched in blood.
With a groan he made for his bunk immediately.
He wasn't going to make that mistake again. Last time, he had woken up, passed out on the floor, with Mat standing over him, grinning.
Arthur's bed was empty. No surprise there.
Seeing him was an occasional thing now, like seeing a rainbow.
If he wasn't fighting, he was out being a hero. Even during the night where all saner men had decided to go to sleep, he was still out there.
Somehow, he had found a way to survive undetected past nightfall.
Then everyday come morning, he would hear the Healers talk about Arthur. Not that he had been brutally cut down like Noah expected, but about the new lives that Arthur had rescued.
How he returned every morning with the rising sun, a group of stunned men trailing soon after, still clutching half-healed wounds that they shouldn't have been able to survive.
Rumours had sprung up around Arthur since then.
Some said he was a Saint candidate doing an undercover mission. Others said that it wasn't Arthur at all out there, but an eldritch monster wearing his skin.
Noah had only been able to gather one thing from the rumours.
Soldiers were a superstitious lot.
Felt emerged from the bathroom, steely gaze darkening as he saw the empty bed.
"What's wrong?" Noah asked, frowning.
Felt exhaled sharply. "You don't understand, this is your first battle." He pointed at Arthur's bed, "that, isn't good."
"What, saving people? Why?"
"Because he's putting himself at risk of skill addiction, if he doesn't have it already. Physical skill addiction is not as bad, but it can still kill you."
Noah's face turned into a grimace. 'That didn't sound good.'
Felt continued in a half rant, "His schedule lets him four, maybe five hours of sleep every other day. Fighting all day, saving all night. It's not possible for a Stage 1 awakened to maintain. Unless-"
"He's using mana consistently" Noah finished, enlightened.
Felt nodded. "Overdoing it isn't good. Soon, if not already, his body will reach a point where it won't be able to survive without mana, while at the same time, mana is becoming less effective and more costly.
The more he uses it without taking a break, the more it costs to force his body to reach the standards he's pushing it to be.
Soon, it's not going to be a case of if he runs out of mana mid battle.
It'll be when.
Because when he does. He'll be dead. Even if he survives the shock, he'll be a sitting duck, waiting to be killed."
A heavy silence followed Felt's words.
"So, what do we do?" Noah asked, jaw clenched.
"We wait."