This was Kar'eth in military experts' eyes:
The fortress located at the northeastern edge of the Northern Territory
The shield that blocks monster incursions from the Crimson Waste
A key defensive position where 40% of the Northern Command's ranger forces are stationed
The garrison headquarters of the Kar'eth Rangers and the forward operating base for frontier operations
This was Kar'eth for ordinary soldiers:
The frontline fortress where we fight monsters daily
Cold, isolated, dangerous, and the hardest posting in the Empire
A place where only green recruits and hardened veterans exist—nothing in between
And this was Kar'eth for Northern Command:
Why Kar'eth garrison receives priority resource allocation and near-autonomous operational authority
Why the fortress can't expand its personnel despite constant need
The Empire's most critical early warning system, and its most vulnerable pressure point
Some said it was just a cold and desolate outpost.
For others, it was the easiest place to earn combat pay and advancement through merit.
However, for the men and women born and raised on the Northern Frontier, the fortress was none of those things.
Their ancestors had died defending these walls.
They, too, had a lifelong duty and pride to maintain.
For Davrin Thorne, eldest son of a frontier family and veteran commander of Kar'eth garrison, that was what the fortress meant.
The sacred and noble duty placed on them by the Empire.
But it seemed that pride would soon be tested.
Academy students were coming to this combat zone, bringing inexperience and idealism with them.
It was said they were second-years.
The so-called "Golden Generation"—advanced students who'd proven themselves exceptional.
But also first-years—the bulk of the deployment.
Fifty advanced second-years who'd earned early promotion.
One hundred and fifty first-years from the same exceptional class.
Twenty third-years for senior supervision.
For Davrin, who considered Kar'eth as hallowed ground paid for in blood, it was... complicated.
The fortress was a battlefield for warriors who'd throw their lives away for their convictions and comrades.
It was not a training ground for children playing soldier.
"Why?"
Davrin couldn't understand.
Northern Command had already reduced their garrison strength by half for Eastern Sector deployments.
The veterans he knew would never send students into an understaffed fortress.
Not unless something had changed.
Not unless the situation was more desperate than official reports suggested.
When he first heard the deployment orders, Davrin couldn't believe it.
He'd served under Northern Command for fifteen years.
He knew how they operated.
They didn't risk Academy students.
Not like this.
Especially not first-years.
But the orders were real.
Two hundred and twenty students total.
Arriving in three days.
Right when monster activity was increasing.
Right when his garrison was stretched thinnest.
Right when everything felt wrong.
"The soldiers are worried," his second-in-command said.
Lieutenant Helena Vex—twenty-eight years old, veteran of seven frontier rotations, and the best tactical mind in the garrison.
"Does Northern Command regard Kar'eth as expendable?"
The senior rangers had expressed their concern over the deployment.
"If they're sending first-years here, it means they think we're safe," one veteran said.
"Or it means they're desperate for warm bodies and we're the testing ground," another countered darkly.
"I'm concerned that Command has forgotten the harshness of winter in the comfort of their heated offices," Helena said quietly.
Davrin understood their concerns and anger because he felt the same way.
But now wasn't the time to question Command decisions.
Winter was here.
The harsh season had arrived early.
"Double-check the fortress defenses and strengthen vigilance. Dispatch additional ranger patrols if necessary. The patrol routes and schedules are at your discretion."
It wasn't protocol yet, but better to be safe.
Monsters were unpredictable.
And the howling two nights ago had been... coordinated.
Davrin listened to every ranger report with focused intensity.
He didn't overlook even the smallest signs, and if he had any suspicion, he immediately sent teams to investigate thoroughly.
It was important to maintain fortress integrity until Command clarified their intentions.
The students arrived exactly on schedule.
Davrin stood in the main courtyard, watching the military convoy roll through the gates.
His expression was carefully neutral, but his mind was cataloging everything.
The wagons were reinforced—good.
The students were armed—better.
But they looked young.
Too young.
Children.
They're sending us children.
His eyes swept across the arriving students, professional assessment taking over.
Most showed signs of proper training.
Weapons maintenance was good.
Equipment secured correctly.
They'd at least been taught the basics.
But basics wouldn't save them when a 3rd Stage beast came through the walls.
Then Davrin's eyes narrowed as he noticed several students in particular.
One walked with absolute confidence—white hair, ice-blue eyes that scanned the fortress with tactical awareness beyond his apparent age.
Valekrest features. The Grand Duke's son?
No. Too young. A lesser branch member, maybe.
But the way he moved...
That wasn't noble posturing.
That was someone who'd seen real combat.
Another student floated.
Literally floated.
A young man with dark hair and calm expression, three swords orbiting him in a slow, precise pattern.
The telekinetic control required for that...
That's not normal. Even for academy prodigies.
A massive blonde boy with tattoos visible on his forearms carried a mace that would challenge most grown soldiers.
But he handled it like it weighed nothing.
Physical cultivation at that age? How?
A girl with periwinkle-blue hair left frost patterns where she walked.
Unconscious manifestation.
Ice elemental Integration. And she can't even control the ambient effect. That's either very new or very powerful.
Two girls stood near the lead wagon, both wearing twin swords.
One had auburn hair and moved with predatory grace—confident, aggressive, the kind of fighter who dominated through speed and precision.
The other...
Davrin's eyes lingered on her.
Auburn-brown hair tied back practically.
Sharp eyes that analyzed everything.
She moved through the disembarking students with purpose, checking on others, organizing equipment distribution without being asked.
There was something in her expression.
Something that reminded him of veterans who'd seen too much.
Knowledge that shouldn't exist in someone so young.
He forced his attention back to the group as a whole.
"Welcome to Kar'eth. I'm Commander Thorne, garrison commander."
His voice was rough, pragmatic.
Years of shouting orders across battlefields had stripped away any softness.
"You're here for advanced training and observation. You'll be assigned to various sections—logistics, patrol routes, defensive positions. Consider this real experience."
He paused, letting that sink in.
"But understand this: Kar'eth is an active frontier fortress. We've been experiencing increased monster activity over the past month. If something happens, if we go to combat alert, you follow orders immediately."
His eyes swept across them.
"No heroics. No independent action. You are students first, soldiers second. Clear?"
"Yes, sir!"
The response was unified, disciplined.
Better than expected.
"Good. Instructors will assign you to your rotations. Dismissed."
As students filed toward their assigned barracks, Helena appeared at Davrin's side.
"They're better trained than I expected," she said quietly.
"Training isn't the same as experience."
"True. But some of them..." Helena gestured subtly toward the white-haired boy.
"That one moves like a ranger. And the floating one? I've never seen telekinetic control that refined outside of 4th Stage practitioners."
"Academy prodigies," Davrin said dismissively.
"Maybe. Or maybe Northern Command sent them for a reason."
"What reason?"
Helena was quiet for a moment.
"Testing. If something's changing with monster behavior, they'd want observers who could document it. Students who aren't already set in their ways. Who'd notice patterns veterans might dismiss as coincidence."
Davrin considered that.
It... made sense.
In a deeply unsettling way.
"You think Command knows something's wrong."
"I think Command suspects. And they're using these students as early warning sensors." Helena's expression was grim.
"Whether the students know that or not."
-----
Davrin reviewed patrol reports in his office.
The howling from two nights ago still bothered him.
Coordinated.
Multiple packs calling to each other.
Testing their response times.
It wasn't normal monster behavior.
A knock interrupted his thoughts.
"Enter."
Helena came in, followed by two students.
The white-haired boy and the periwinkle-haired girl.
"Sir, these two reported unusual activity during their watch rotation," Helena said.
"Eastern wall, around midnight tonight. Coordinated howling from multiple directions. They documented the pattern."
Davrin's attention sharpened.
"Show me."
The white-haired boy stepped forward.
Up close, Davrin could see more details.
Ice-blue eyes that held calculation rather than fear.
Posture that suggested combat training far beyond academy standard.
And something else...
When the boy moved, shadows seemed to cling to him longer than they should.
"Number 0001, sir. Arden Valekrest." The boy produced a hand-drawn map with precise markings.
"We documented three distinct pack positions based on howling patterns. North, northwest, and northeast. The timing suggested coordinated communication rather than random calls."
Davrin studied the map.
The positions were accurate.
The timing analysis was sound.
This wasn't amateur observation.
"You have ranger training," Davrin said.
It wasn't a question.
"Four months of field rotations, sir. Captain Roy Voss supervised most of my deployments."
Voss. That explains some of it.
The theatrical maniac somehow produces competent students despite his methods.
"And you?" Davrin looked at the girl.
"Serra Hallik, sir. Number 0012." Her voice was controlled, professional.
"I confirmed the pattern independently. The howling was too organized to be coincidence. They were testing our response protocols."
Hallik. The disgraced family.
But she carries herself like nobility regardless.
Davrin made his decision.
"Lieutenant Vex, add these two to the intelligence monitoring rotation. They've demonstrated observation capability above standard student level."
"Yes, sir."
"Dismissed."
As the students left, Helena lingered.
"The Valekrest boy is sharp. Too sharp for his age."
"Agreed. Keep an eye on him."
"You think he's hiding something?"
"I think..." Davrin stared at the map the boy had drawn.
"I think he knows more than he should. And I want to know why."
----
Arden stood his watch rotation, Shadow Devil core active.
His white hair had turned pitch black.
His eyes were pure voids that absorbed moonlight.
In this form, he was nearly invisible against the night sky.
Perfect for observation.
The transformation still felt strange.
Like wearing a second skin that fit perfectly but reminded him he wasn't quite human anymore.
Elara found him an hour into his shift.
"You're using it," she said quietly.
"The full transformation. I haven't seen that before."
"Needed the concealment. There are things moving out there." He gestured to the forest.
"Just beyond our sight lines. Watching."
She stood beside him, silent for a moment.
Her presence was... comfortable.
Not intrusive.
Just steady.
"Commander Thorne is watching us," Elara said.
"The way he looked at you—at all of us—he's cataloging. Assessing. Trying to figure out what we are."
"Can't blame him. We're not exactly normal students."
"No. We're not." She paused.
"He reminds me of someone. A commander I... heard about. From stories. Someone who cared deeply about his soldiers."
That hesitation. Like she almost said something else.
They stood in companionable silence for several minutes.
Watching the forest.
Listening to the wind.
"How much do you really know?" Elara asked suddenly.
"About what's coming."
Arden didn't answer immediately.
The question hit closer than she probably realized.
"More than I should," he finally said.
"But not enough to stop it."
"Then we prepare." Her voice was firm.
"Make sure everyone's ready. That's all we can do."
"You sound certain."
"I am certain." She met his eyes—the pitch-black voids that marked his transformation.
"Because I trust you. And because I know what you're capable of when everything falls apart."
There it is again. That way she talks. Like she's seen the future.
Or like she's lived through it before.
"Elara—"
"Don't." She cut him off gently.
"Don't ask questions I can't answer. Not yet. Just... promise me you'll survive. Can you do that?"
Arden studied her.
Really studied her.
The determination in her eyes.
The absolute certainty in her posture.
The way she looked at him like she knew exactly who he was, what he'd become, what he'd do.
Like she'd already seen all of it.
"I can do that," he said finally.
"Good." She smiled—rare and genuine.
"Because we're going to need each other. When it comes. When everything changes."
She moved to leave, then paused.
"Your shadow form. It's impressive. The complete transformation—hair, eyes, presence. How long can you maintain it?"
"Hours, if needed. Why?"
"Because when something happens, you'll need every advantage." Her expression became serious.
"They're planning something, Arden. I don't know what exactly. But I can feel it building. Like a storm just beyond the horizon."
"You feel it too."
"Of course I do." She glanced at the dark forest.
"Anyone with sense can feel it. The question is whether we'll be ready when it breaks."
"We'll be ready."
"I know." She smiled again.
"Because you'll make sure of it. That's what you do. You see the disaster coming and you prepare until you can change the outcome."
How does she know that? How does she know me so well?
But Arden didn't ask.
He'd promised not to.
And somehow, he knew she'd answer when the time was right.
Just not yet.
After she left, Arden continued his watch.
The forest remained quiet.
But the tension was building.
He could feel it.
Like a storm gathering just beyond the horizon.
Elara's right. Something's coming. Soon.
And when it does, everyone here is going to have to face something they're not ready for.
But we'll be as ready as we can be.
Because that's all we can do.
The shadows wrapped around him tighter.
The darkness accepted him as one of its own.
And Arden Valekrest—white hair turned black, ice-blue eyes turned void—stood watch over a fortress that didn't yet know what was coming.
But would learn soon enough.
-----
Davrin reviewed the day's reports one final time.
Nothing unusual.
Standard patrol patterns.
Regular monster activity.
Everything looked normal.
But his instincts screamed otherwise.
Fifteen years on the frontier had taught him to trust those instincts.
Helena entered without knocking.
"The Valekrest boy submitted a detailed analysis of tonight's howling patterns. It's... thorough. More thorough than most veteran rangers would provide."
She placed the document on his desk.
"He thinks something's building. A coordinated effort. But he framed it carefully—suggesting it might be a larger seasonal wave rather than anything unusual."
"Smart. Doesn't panic the veterans but flags the concern."
"Exactly."
Davrin read through the analysis.
The observations were precise.
The conclusions reasonable.
But there was something in the wording...
Like the boy knew more than he was saying.
Like he was deliberately underplaying his suspicions.
"Keep close watch on him and his group. Especially that Varen girl. I saw the way she moved through the students today. Organizing. Coordinating. Without being asked."
"You think they're connected somehow?"
"I think they're both too capable for their age. And I think they know something we don't." Davrin set down the report.
"But for now, we use that capability. If they can help prepare the students for what's coming—even if what's coming is just a regular wave—then I'll take it."
Helena was about to leave when another knock sounded.
"Enter."
----
What Davrin hadn't mentioned to Helena was that he'd called for a strategy meeting with his senior staff.
The knock was his lieutenant commanders arriving.
Helena stayed as six veteran officers filed in—men and women who'd held Kar'eth's walls for years.
"Commander," they saluted.
"At ease. We need to discuss patrol optimization and threat assessment."
They gathered around the large tactical map that dominated his office.
Small wooden markers represented known monster concentrations.
"How are we doing with clearing the outer territories?" Davrin asked.
"We've kept the goblin nests down steadily," Lieutenant Markus reported.
"But there are still several concentrations we haven't organized strikes against. Now that you're back from the capital, sir, we're ready to move more aggressively."
"Good. Coordinate with the ranger captains. I want those nests cleared before the deep winter."
"Yes, sir."
They continued discussing various threats.
Razormaw packs.
Frostfang territories.
The usual frontier dangers that required constant management.
Then Lieutenant Helena's expression turned serious.
"The problem is the Ironhide Berserkers."
Davrin's jaw tightened.
Ironhide Berserkers—massive humanoid monsters standing eight feet tall, covered in thick, iron-like hide that turned aside most blades.
They were intelligent.
Tool-users.
Pack hunters who coordinated tactics.
A single Berserker was a serious threat.
A pack was a crisis.
"There's a small group settled at the eastern mountain pass," Helena continued.
"About twenty of them. They're scouting. Establishing territory. If we don't clear them now, they'll fortify that position and cut off our eastern patrol routes."
"Twenty." Davrin's expression was grim.
"That would require a full company. Forty soldiers minimum. And we'd still take casualties."
"Yes, sir. Their hide is too thick for standard arrows. We'd need heavy crossbows, mana-reinforced weapons, and probably several mages for penetration support."
"And with our current garrison strength..."
"We can't spare forty men for an extended operation. Not with everything else we're managing."
The room fell silent.
Ironhide Berserkers weren't just dangerous—they were resource-intensive to handle.
Every soldier committed to that operation was a soldier pulled from wall defense, patrol routes, other critical positions.
With half their garrison deployed elsewhere, it was an impossible choice.
"We could request reinforcements from—"
A knock interrupted Helena mid-sentence.
Everyone turned to the door.
"I didn't call for anyone else," Davrin said, annoyed.
"Enter."
The door opened.
Arden Valekrest stepped inside, his white hair and ice-blue eyes immediately identifying him even in the dim office lighting.
Behind him stood Elara Varen.
"Commander Thorne, sir. Apologies for the interruption." Arden's voice was calm, respectful.
"We were passing by and heard the discussion through the door."
Several officers bristled at the admission—students eavesdropping on command meetings.
But Davrin raised a hand.
"You heard about the Ironhide Berserkers."
"Yes, sir."
"This is a senior staff meeting, student. You're dismissed—"
But Arden was already moving forward, approaching the tactical map.
His eyes found the marker representing the Berserker position immediately.
"This one," he said, picking up the wooden piece.
The officers stared.
Helena looked ready to physically remove him.
But Davrin studied the boy carefully.
There was something in his expression.
Not arrogance.
Not youthful bravado.
Certainty.
"What about it?" Davrin asked quietly.
Arden met his eyes directly.
"Let me take care of it."
Silence.
Absolute silence.
Lieutenant Markus laughed—a short, disbelieving bark.
"You? A first-year student? You want to handle twenty Ironhide Berserkers?"
"Yes, sir."
"Boy, do you have any idea—"
"I know exactly what they are," Arden interrupted calmly.
"Eight feet tall. Iron-like hide resistant to standard weapons. Intelligent pack hunters. Require heavy ordnance or specialized tactics to defeat."
He paused.
"I can handle them."
"Absolutely not," another officer said immediately.
"Commander, this is ridiculous. He's a child—"
But Davrin raised his hand again.
Everyone fell silent.
He studied Arden.
Really studied him.
The boy stood perfectly still, perfectly confident.
No hesitation.
No doubt.
Behind him, the Varen girl watched with that same knowing expression.
Like she'd expected this exact moment.
"You have a plan," Davrin said.
Not a question.
"Yes, sir."
"And you believe you can eliminate twenty Ironhide Berserkers without garrison support."
"With minimal support, sir. I'll need Lieutenant Vex to provide evacuation coordinates in case of emergency. And permission to requisition specific equipment."
The casual way he spoke—like he'd done this before.
Like twenty Ironhide Berserkers were an inconvenience rather than a crisis.
"This is insane," Lieutenant Markus protested.
"Commander, you can't seriously be considering—"
"I'll allow it," Davrin said.
Every officer turned to stare at him.
"Sir?"
"Under conditions." Davrin's voice was firm.
"You'll take a small observation team. Rangers who can pull you out if things go wrong. You'll report your plan to Lieutenant Vex for approval. And if at any point the situation exceeds your capability, you retreat immediately. Clear?"
Arden nodded once.
"Clear, sir."
"Dismissed. Report to Lieutenant Vex tomorrow morning with your tactical plan."
"Yes, sir."
As Arden and Elara left, the office erupted.
"Commander, this is—"
"Reckless—"
"He's a student—"
"Enough." Davrin's voice cut through the protests.
They fell silent.
"That boy has captain-level tactical awareness. Ranger training under Roy Voss. And something else—something I can't quite identify." Davrin stared at the door where Arden had disappeared.
"If he fails, we send the full company as originally planned. If he succeeds, we just solved a major resource problem without depleting our garrison."
"And if he dies?" Helena asked quietly.
"Then I'll answer to Northern Command." Davrin's expression was grim.
"But I don't think he will."
"Why?"
"Because when he said he could handle it..." Davrin picked up the Berserker marker, studying it.
"He didn't sound like a student proposing a bold plan. He sounded like a veteran stating a fact."
He set the marker down.
"And I want to know why."
Outside the office, Arden and Elara walked through the quiet fortress corridors.
"That was bold," Elara said quietly.
"Necessary. We need to establish credibility before the real crisis hits."
"And the Ironhide Berserkers?"
Arden's expression didn't change.
"Won't be a problem."
Because he'd fought them before.
In both his novel and VR
He knew their weaknesses.
Their patterns.
Exactly how to kill them efficiently.
Twenty Ironhide Berserkers?
For Arden Valekrest, that wasn't a crisis.
That was an opportunity.