The commander raised his hand from the front line.

  "Ready! Fire!" he roared— and with that command, thousands of arrows rained down upon the villages surrounding Bahlor.

  As the massive army seized every settlement around the kingdom, six months of the campaign had already passed.

  During this time, Karim and Luca had been tasked with transporting the wounded from the battlefield to safer zones,

  while receiving basic first aid training along the way.

  Due to Bahlor’s blatant disregard for the Academy’s sanctions and the established rules of warfare,

  the Academy had been forced into an alliance with the Kingdom of Valthoria.

  Normally, the Academy was renowned for its neutrality.

  Its purpose was not to engage in wars— but to unite kingdoms through festivals, tournaments, and royal weddings, seeking to reduce tensions between them.

  However, the war, which had dragged on for nearly a decade, had left Bahlor weakened.

  In desperation, the kingdom had resorted to forbidden magic to turn the tide of battle.

  Such violations were unacceptable to any civilized settlement.

  The Academy, under normal circumstances, would only provide military aid within the strict boundaries of formal agreements and mutual respect.

  But Bahlor had betrayed these principles— openly discriminating against Academy forces, and excluding them from war spoils and post-battle provisions.

  That betrayal was reason enough for the Academy to declare war against Bahlor itself.

  ***

  “They're bringing in another one,” Karim said, sitting inside the tent as he glanced at Luca.

  “I saw,” Luca replied calmly.

  The soldiers burst into the tent, shouting,

  “Clear the way!”

  as they carried in the wounded man— one of the army’s generals.

  Standing near the healers, Karim and Luca watched silently as the chief medic immediately began tending to the general’s injuries.

  “Viper root! Bring me viper root!” the chief healer barked at Karim.

  Karim quickly dug into a nearby sack, pulled out the viper root, snapped it in half, and handed one piece to the medic.

  “What the hell are you doing?! I said all of it!” the healer snapped furiously.

  He grabbed the entire root, crushed it roughly, and smeared it over the open wound on the general’s abdomen.

  As the general writhed in pain, the chief healer barked at Luca,

  “Hand me the dagger soaking in alcohol!”

  Luca quickly complied, handing over the sterilized blade.

  With careful hands, the healer began cutting into the general’s abdomen, removing tiny shards of a shattered mace embedded deep inside the flesh.

  The general’s screams echoed throughout the tent, his agony filling the suffocating space.

  Without looking up, the healer snapped another order:

  “Get two vials of Aghan Elixir from the mage! Now!”

  Aghan Elixir, when used in small doses, acted as a sedative— but an overdose could cause unconsciousness, or even permanent paralysis.

  Karim and Luca sprinted toward the mage’s post, where they were handed handfuls of tiny potion vials.

  They rushed back toward the tent, but the rain had turned the ground into a swamp of slick, treacherous mud.

  As Karim ran, he slipped violently— the vials flew from his hands and shattered in the mud, the precious elixirs sinking and vanishing into the filth.

  At that moment, the chief healer stepped out of the tent, scanning the camp to see where they had gone.

  When he spotted Karim sprawled in the mud, the shattered vials glinting among the dirt, the fury on his face was impossible to miss.

  Such a mistake— in a situation like this— was utterly unacceptable.

  The healer snatched the remaining vials Luca had brought and placed them carefully on the table.

  He adjusted the dosage with sharp precision, then injected the Aghan Elixir into the general’s abdomen.

  Letting out a long breath, he muttered,

  “Just barely made it.”

  He then turned sharply toward Karim, who was still standing to the side, soaked in mud, and barked in a harsh tone, “Next time, think about where you place your feet!

  There’s no margin for error in moments like these!”

  Karim bowed his head and replied quietly,

  “Yes, sir.”

  Just then, the healer’s assistant, who was monitoring the general, called out in a worried voice.

  The healer rushed over, carefully examining the wound.

  The condition of the injury— and the symptoms— went far beyond what a simple battlefield strike could explain.

  The healer’s expression grew even more serious as he fell into a deep, troubled silence.

  “It’s not the wound from battle that made it this bad,” the healer said, his voice cold and heavy with grim truth.

  “The general was poisoned beforehand… which means there’s a traitor among us.”

  The atmosphere inside the tent shifted instantly.

  Worry and shock spread across every face, including Karim’s and Luca’s.

  It was no longer just a war— they now had an internal threat to face.

  The healer swiftly grabbed the heavy canvas flap acting as a door and yanked it shut.

  His stern expression froze the room into a cold silence.

  “This information doesn’t leave this tent,”

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  he growled.

  “If I hear even a whisper about the general being poisoned, you’ll all be swinging from the gallows!”

  The assistant, voice trembling, whispered,

  “Who do you think it could be?”

  Wiping the sweat from his brow, the healer’s eyes gleamed with suspicion.

  “I don’t know.

  It could be anyone.”

  He then turned and stared directly at Karim, who was still standing silently in the corner.

  “And how did you two get here?”

  he asked.

  Karim and Luca exchanged a brief, tense glance.

  “They assigned us to the army after a trial, sir,”

  Luca said, trying his best to stay calm.

  The healer narrowed his eyes and pressed on:

  “Do either of you know how to track?”

  Luca answered without hesitation:

  “I don’t, sir. But as far as I know, my friend here used to survive by hunting before joining the Academy.”

  Karim shot Luca a sharp glare, as if to say, "What are you doing?" —but he kept silent.

  The healer rummaged through a chest, pulling out a red badge emblazoned with the symbol of a tree and a sword.

  “As of now, you are the healer, Luca.”

  He pinned the badge onto Luca’s apron.

  “Me?!” Luca asked, stunned.

  The healer smirked with a hint of sarcasm:

  “My assistant already knows everything. You just have to follow his lead. He’s a civilian, so he can’t carry the badge officially.”

  Then he turned to Karim.

  “Karim, you’re coming with me.”

  The healer grabbed Karim and marched out of the tent with swift, determined steps.

  Karim struggled slightly to keep pace,while the healer spoke in a mocking tone:

  “Hope you haven’t been poaching, Karim.”

  “There wasn’t really a kingdom where I lived, sir. Just a small village… a bit off to the side.”

  “If there’s a village, it’s tied to a kingdom,” the healer said curtly.

  “Hopefully, you can guess what we’re about to do.”

  Karim replied calmly,

  “I only hunted small game—rabbits, ferrets, that kind of thing.

  So to be honest… I’m not much of a tracker, sir.”

  Without slowing his pace, the healer’s voice turned colder:

  “I don’t care if you’re good or bad at it. I only care whether you can do it.”

  The rain poured relentlessly over the army’s encampment, and the cold wind whipped between the tents— striking faces with the bitter truth of war.

  Some soldiers lay in their beds, crying out in pain, while others stared blankly at the sky— their eyes hollow, stripped of feeling.

  The silent, festering wounds left by war laid bare the true brutality of Necromaniva.

  From the outside, war might seem like a display of power— but for those trapped within it, it was nothing more than a nightmare they desperately wished would end.

  Sudden cannon blasts shattered the air.

  Commanders’ voices rang out with sharp authority:

  “Fire!”

  Thousands of arrows launched into the skies, while mages tore open the ground and redirected bolts of lightning from the heavens.

  A single arrow could become an entire swarm, unleashing devastation without end.

  This wasn’t just battle— it was everyday life in Necromaniva.

  One evening, you might laugh with friends, feasting on sweetened bread,

  only to find a home burning to ashes on your way back.

  ***

  By the time the healer stopped, Karim found himself standing before the general’s tent.

  The closed green canvas, marked with the general’s insignia at the top, was impossible to miss.

  As they stepped inside, the healer gave Karim a sharp command:

  “I’ll be outside. No one gets in.

  Search thoroughly. Be quick— and leave everything exactly as you found it.”

  Without another word, the healer positioned himself at the entrance, leaving Karim alone inside.

  Karim took a deep breath and began to examine the area carefully.

  The tent wasn’t much different from the others— a simple bed, a chest, and a desk cluttered with documents.

  But one thing immediately caught his eye:

  a short sword leaning against the desk.

  The general had come straight from the battlefield— yet the sword was still here.

  Karim approached and picked it up, turning it over in his hands.

  There were no signs of blood, no battle damage, no scratches.

  Nothing.

  “Did he go into battle unarmed?” Karim thought uneasily.

  Next, he carefully opened the chest.

  What he found inside left him momentarily stunned.

  Piles of gold that couldn’t even fit into normal bags, vials of thick black liquid, a few pieces of clothing, and a single dagger.

  The amount of gold alone was enough for Karim to buy the kind of house he had only dreamed about.

  But at first glance, nothing immediately suspicious stood out.

  He moved to the desk.

  Most of the documents appeared to be formal correspondence with other generals.

  Uninterested, Karim opened the two small drawers.

  Only spare quills and ink refills.

  “It must have been someone from the outside,”

  he thought grimly.

  As he turned toward the bed, his foot nudged a small bottle.

  It rolled slightly on the ground— empty.

  The sharp scent from the open cap hit Karim’s nose, and he nearly gagged.

  Fighting the urge to vomit, he steeled himself, picked up the bottle, and decided to bring it back for the healer to inspect.

  Before leaving the tent, Karim reached out with his finger and poked through the thin canvas, nudging the healer’s back to signal him inside.

  “What is it? Did you find anything?” the healer asked as he entered.

  Without a word, Karim uncorked the bottle he was holding.

  The sharp smell made him grimace as he handed it over.

  The healer sniffed the contents, his brow immediately furrowing.

  “Where did you find this?” he asked sharply.

  “Next to the bed,” Karim answered.

  “Looks like someone either dropped it, or left it behind in a hurry.”

  The healer sniffed the bottle again, then began to explain:

  “This is another form of Aghan Elixir.

  The only difference is— this one has nettle mixed into it.”

  Karim’s curiosity sparked.

  “What happens when you add nettle?”

  The healer’s voice grew heavier:

  “That depends on how it was administered.”

  “If it was injected directly into the bloodstream, the general has almost no chance. He’s as good as dead.”

  “But if it was swallowed or mixed into food or drink, we might still save him— if we can force him to vomit quickly.”

  “Nettle reacts violently with the chemicals in Aghan,” the healer added, sniffing the bottle again.

  “Whoever prepared this… did it hastily.”

  After a moment of thought, the healer asked,

  “Did you touch anything else?”

  Karim shook his head in the negative.

  “Listen to me carefully,” the healer said, his voice firm and commanding.

  “Start observing the other generals, and anyone who’s been near the wounded general.

  Watch them closely.

  If needed, talk to them.

  If they try to assign you any tasks, tell them I sent you.

  Say it’s just part of a routine test.

  Most won’t make trouble if you say that.”

  Karim frowned anxiously.

  “But... how am I supposed to figure out who did it? I mean—I've only ever hunted rabbits.”

  The healer, still holding the bottle, gave a small, grim smile.

  “You found the bottle, didn’t you?”

  he said, stepping out of the tent.

  “You’ll find the rest too.”

  Karim wiped his face with his hands, then took a deep breath and stepped outside.

  The generals' tents had been set up with deliberate spacing— so that in case of a fire, not all the commanders would be lost at once.

  Moving cautiously, Karim gently pulled aside the tent flaps one by one, searching for the generals.

  He eventually came face-to-face with the general of the archers.

  The man was lean and athletic, his middle-aged face etched deeply with the merciless experiences of war.

  Each wrinkle seemed to carry the silent echoes of horrors he had witnessed.

  Karim paused briefly, then asked:

  “Could you tell me anything about the general stationed at the end?”

  The archer general frowned, clearly displeased by such a direct question.

  “Shouldn’t you be helping someone right now, kid?” the general asked, eyeing Karim.

  Karim quickly repeated what the healer had instructed him to say.

  The general nodded, understanding the situation.

  “Alright then," he said.

  "The general stationed at the far end... well, unlike most of us, he's probably the most relaxed one around here." He chuckled lightly before adding,

  "Don’t take my teasing the wrong way—there aren’t more than ten people in this world who can handle a dagger like he can."

  Karim couldn’t hide his growing interest.

  “He specializes in daggers?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” the general said.

  “He’s decent enough with a sword too, but the dagger is where his real mastery lies. Used to take on a lot of assassination missions back in the day.”

  Karim pressed further, eager for more information.

  “I see, sir. Is there anything unusual about him?”

  The general paused for a moment, then shrugged.

  “Not sure exactly what you’re hoping to hear, kid, but no. If anything, he just drinks too much.”

  Still unsatisfied, Karim asked:

  “Forgive me, sir, but I’m still not quite clear on his role.

  You joked about him, but you also warned me not to underestimate him.

  What exactly does he do during the battles?”

  The general cleared his throat with a brief cough before replying:

  “Jonathan scouts ahead before the battle even starts,

  makes sure the area’s secure and suitable for our forces.

  Like I said, he was an assassin once... but after he got married,

  he left the riskier work behind.”

  Finding no more questions to ask, Karim gave a respectful bow to the general and continued on his way.

  Don't forget to leave a comment about anything you're curious about, any details you feel might be missing, or anything else you’d like to share!

  Also, for more lore and deeper insights, feel free to visit r/Necromaniva.

  See you next time!