The next morning
They broke camp in silence.
Adel moved automatically, tightening his gear, checking Troy's pack, glancing at Finley's spear. Sanray said nothing, just gave the signal—and they began the final stretch.
Adel felt it first.
A faint pressure in his chest.
Like something watching.
Sanray raised a hand. Everyone froze.
Then all hell broke loose.
A shriek tore through the trees—a high-pitched, guttural screech. Dozens of them. Movement flickered between trunks.
"Goblins!" someone shouted.
Green-skinned shapes lunged from the undergrowth—short, twisted things with crude blades, rotting armor, and too many teeth.
It was an ambush.
Sanray's sword was already out.
A goblin leapt from a tree branch toward him—he stepped aside effortlessly, blade arcing clean through its skull without even looking.
Three more rushed from the side—Sanray pivoted, his blade moving in tight circles, every strike timed perfectly. One slash deflected a dagger, another tore through a throat, the third stabbed straight through a goblin's chest before it could fully scream.
To Adel, it was like watching a dance—fluid, terrifying, precise.
"Hold the center!" Finley roared, spear spinning as he jabbed and swept wide.
Troy fought close, using short swings, shielding two others with his back. They'd formed a shaky semi-circle.
Adel didn't hesitate—his sword flashed in the dim light, cutting down one goblin, kicking another off-balance. His heart thundered in his ears.
But Sanray—
Sanray didn't look like he was even trying.
He stepped around every blade, dodged every thrown spear like he'd seen it seconds before it left a hand.
A goblin tried to flank him from behind.
Sanray sidestepped it before it moved.
Adel's breath caught. He knew before it even attacked.
Then Adel remembered:
Perceive everything in a three-meter radius.
Accelerate your thoughts three times the normal.
The Domain.
The man wasn't just fighting—he was predicting, reacting faster than the enemy could think.
Adel watched Sanray clear ten goblins on his own, effortlessly. Even when one got behind him, Sanray spun, blade cutting clean through its wrist—then reversed the grip and drove the sword upward through its chin.
By the time the last goblin fell, gurgling in the dirt, Adel realized the whole fight had lasted barely three minutes.
They stood in the aftermath, panting. Blood covered the ground. The leaves. Their gear.
Silence returned—but this time, it felt like a warning.
Adel stared at Sanray's back.
The man didn't even look winded.
What are the limits of that stone? Adel thought.
If a Domain lets you do that... then what does an Enhancement stone do? Is it just strength? Speed? Could it match this?
He didn't have the answers.
The walk back was quiet.
It was heavier now—dragging, like their boots had gained weight after the fight. Blood dried on their armor. Goblin bile clung to weapons and skin, sticking to the insides of their gloves and the backs of their throats. No one spoke.
Adel stared at the ground as they walked, mind turning.
Sanray had barely broken a sweat. The rest of them looked like they'd been through a meat grinder.
By the time the spiked walls of the fortress came into view, someone at the gate called out, and a pair of guards opened the way. A horn sounded once—short, low. A returning patrol. No celebration. No crowd.
Squad Five filed in.
Dareth was waiting just past the inner wall, arms crossed, face unreadable. His gaze scanned the group—counted heads—then flicked to Sanray.
"…Report."
Sanray stepped forward, blood still fresh on his blade.
"Ambush. Goblin warband. Northwestern treeline. Numbers around thirty. No casualties on our side."
Dareth's brow raised slightly. "Warband that size this close?"
"Either displaced from the forest... or hunting," Sanray said. "They knew our route."
That earned a grim nod. Dareth's voice dropped. "Anything unusual?"
Sanray didn't answer right away. His eyes briefly glanced at Adel—just a flicker—before turning back to Dareth.
"No."
Adel felt his chest tighten.
He looked away.
Dareth waved them off. "Squad Five, dismissed. You have two days of rest. Medical first, then debriefing tomorrow night."
They scattered slowly. Finley leaned heavily on his spear. Troy exhaled like he'd been holding his breath for hours.
Adel lingered a moment longer. He looked back at the patrol trail—where they'd just come from. The trees swayed like nothing had happened.
But something had.
He turned to follow the others. Still thinking about that stone.
Still wondering how far behind he really was.
The fortress courtyard was nearly empty, shadows long and stretching under the torchlight. The squad had already scattered—some to the barracks, others to the infirmary.
But Adel didn't head to either.
His boots echoed softly as he made his way down the corridor near the supply depot, past crates and idle gear. He found Sergeant Gurran outside the training grounds, polishing a massive warhammer. Alone.
Gurran glanced up. His face, rough and lined, showed no surprise.
"You look like a man with too many questions."
Adel hesitated, then stepped closer.
"I want to know about the stones."
Gurran grunted. "Which one?"
"…Both."
The old sergeant stood, setting the hammer down with a heavy thud.
"Follow."
They walked a short distance into the empty yard. Gurran rolled his shoulders, then pulled a glove off—revealing the back of his neck.
A small stone, smooth and faintly glowing beneath rune-etched skin, sat embedded near his spine.
"This is an enhancement stone," Gurran said. "Same as the one I chose years ago."
Adel's eyes narrowed.
Gurran gave a warning smile, then moved.
Fast.
One moment he was standing still—the next, he was gone. A blur of motion. Adel barely saw him before Gurran was suddenly behind him, voice low.
"Three times faster."
Adel flinched.
Gurran stepped back into view, then punched the ground—cracks spiderwebbed across the stone where his fist landed.
"Three times stronger."
He picked up a broken wooden spear shaft nearby, jabbed the tip against his arm—it snapped. No wound. Not even a scratch.
"Three times more durable. And all five senses? Sharper than any normal man. I can hear your heartbeat, son."
Adel took a step back, stunned.
"And the Domain?" he asked. "Is it… stronger?"
Gurran's eyes darkened a little.
"It depends."
He walked over to a wooden post and slammed his foot down—splintered it in one hit—then turned to face Adel.
"Domains give awareness, prediction. But that's all useless if your body can't react in time. A man with a Domain might know the blow is coming—but if he's not strong enough to block it or fast enough to dodge, he still dies."
Adel was quiet. Gurran continued.
"Same goes the other way. A brute with Enhancement might be three times faster—but if he can't read his opponent, he'll swing at air while the other puts a knife in his ribs."
"So which is better?" Adel asked.
Gurran gave a short laugh.
"Depends on who's holding the stone."
He bent down, picked up the warhammer with one hand, and rested it on his shoulder like it weighed nothing.
"You've seen Sanray fight. That Domain works because he's already damn near perfect. Anyone else with it might still get cut down."
Adel looked at the ground, gears turning in his mind.
Magic stones embedded into the body… choices that defined a soldier's path… strengths that changed everything.
He didn't realize how far behind he really was.
"Why are we given nothing?" he asked quietly.
Gurran just shrugged. "You're still alive. That's more than most."
"One more thing," he called out. "How do you get promoted?"
Gurran paused mid-step, then half-turned with a lazy grunt.
"You earn it," he said. "Survive long enough. Stand out. Do what others can't."
"That's it?" Adel asked, frowning.
Gurran smirked. "This isn't some noble court, boy. No medals or ceremonies. You get promoted when someone above you says, 'That bastard's useful.' And even then… half the time, it means they're just throwing you into something worse."
He turned back toward the training ground.
"Go rest, Adel. You're gonna need it."
"Wait," he said.
Gurran stopped, glancing over his shoulder.
"…Why does Sanray have a stone?" Adel asked. His voice was low, almost cautious. "A Domain stone. He's just a squad leader, right?"
Gurran raised a brow. For a second, he didn't speak.
Then he gave a tired sigh and turned away again.
"If you're that curious…" he muttered, voice trailing off, "Ask the man yourself."
And with that, he walked off, hammer resting casually over his shoulder like none of this mattered.