My heart pounded in my chest, syncing with the rhythm of my shallow breaths and the burn in my throat. Fear gripped me like an iron vice, squeezing tighter with every second that passed. I had never been to war before, only caught glimpses of its horrors when I first arrived in this world. Even that distant sight had been enough to haunt me. Now, standing at the edge of a real battle, terror consumed every thought.

"What should we do?" Rowell’s voice trembled, his hands shaking so violently I thought he might drop his sword. Seeing his fear mirrored my own—it was some small comfort knowing I wasn’t alone. But it didn’t make the dread any easier to bear.

I fastened the two short swords to my thighs, my fingers numb as I struggled to steady my breathing. We were all scared, but turning back wasn’t an option.

"His Highness said the priority is to stay alive. If we want to do that, we need a plan. Do you want to hear it?" I glanced at Leon and the others, their faces pale and tense. Their earlier bravado had vanished, replaced by the grim reality that none of us might survive this.

"First, when someone attacks you, use your shield and run to the nearest warrior. Hide behind them. Second, find the most secure place—in our case, near the warriors. Lastly, always be ready to run. If the warrior protecting you falls, find another one and stick close.”

“So, in short, stick near the warriors,” Marco said flatly, his usually sharp gaze dulled by disappointment.

“Exactly,” I replied, trying to muster some confidence, but even I knew how weak it sounded.

"That’s not a plan, Tuk," Leon muttered, dropping to the ground in frustration, his voice cracked from defeat.

"Really? I thought it was decent," I said, trying to lighten the mood, though deep down, the pit in my stomach told me otherwise.

"It’s easy for you," Rowell snapped, his voice harsh. "You’re favored by the prince, the warriors know who you are. They’ll protect you without a second thought. But for us? We barely know these people. Hell, they might just let us die and say we got caught in the crossfire."

Rowell’s words stung because they were true. I had a level of safety they didn’t, and the guilt twisted inside me like a knife.

Leon, ever the peacemaker, stood up again. “We’re all on edge. Whatever happens, just stay alive. I want us back at the historian’s office, arguing over old scrolls, not…not dying here. So let’s survive, okay? Do your best.”

His words struck something deep inside me. My throat tightened, and for a brief moment, I felt the sting of tears welling up. We were all terrified, all struggling, but I wanted to believe—needed to believe—that we could survive this.

"PREPARE FOR BATTLE!!!"

The roar echoed through the air like a thunderclap. The conversation died instantly as we looked ahead to see the warriors marching forward, the prince at the helm. The sound of weapons clanging and scraping filled the air, making my heart thud painfully in my chest. The ground beneath us felt like it was quaking, the weight of a thousand unseen horrors pressing down on my chest.

'This is real. This is really happening.'

The air seemed to freeze.

"WE ARE UNDER ATTACK!"

Chaos exploded around us. Before I could even process the warning, arrows rained from the sky like deadly needles. White snow was splattered with red as the first volley found its mark. The coppery scent of blood filled my lungs, and the screams of the wounded tore through the air.

'To hell with this world!'

Clang! Shing! Cling!

The battlefield erupted in a cacophony of death. Warriors clashed with brutal ferocity, the sound of steel on steel echoing around me like the tolling of a death bell. Smoke and dust choked the sky, casting an eerie twilight over the chaos, turning everything into a distorted nightmare.

I had admired strong women like Mulan, like Merida—had dreamed of being brave like them. But in that moment, I felt small, insignificant. What was bravery compared to this? I wasn’t a warrior. I wasn’t a hero. I would’ve given anything to be a delicate noblewoman with a fan, safe and far from this horror.

"ARROWS AHEAD!!!"

The warning cut through the din, piercing me with sudden clarity. I dropped to the ground, squeezing my eyes shut as arrows sliced the air overhead, their screeching flight followed by sickening thuds as they struck flesh. When I dared to look up, the warriors had formed a shield wall, a fortress of bodies standing against the onslaught.

I crawled to the center of their formation, feeling like a child hiding behind giants. The sight of their bloodied swords and broken shields filled me with shame. What exactly was I doing here?

“Damn it! I really almost died!” I cried, but my voice was nothing compared to the cacophony around me.

The clash of battle surged around me, an endless symphony of violence. My legs shook as I dodged and rolled, barely avoiding the mass of falling bodies. Every breath felt like it might be my last, my chest burning with the effort of simply staying alive.

Clang!

A knight charged at me, his face hidden beneath a grimy helmet, his sword flashing with lethal intent. "N-no, I’m not an enemy!" My voice cracked, barely audible above the din. His eyes locked on my red armor, clearly shouting that I was one of his foes.

Of course. Red armor. A beacon for death.

His blows came harder, faster, driving me to the edge of exhaustion. I could barely keep my swords raised, my arms shaking under the weight of his strikes. Just when I thought it was over, another figure leaped in, a sword slicing through my attacker with chilling precision.

The red-capped warrior glanced at me, but I didn’t stay to thank him. My legs moved on instinct, carrying me to where the fighting seemed thinner. I dove behind a snowbank, my chest heaving and my limbs trembling uncontrollably.

‘What was all that training for if all I can do is hide? Call me a coward, but I am not your everyday war girl!’

I buried myself deeper into the snow, watching the battlefield unfold in grim horror. Blood stained the once-untouched snow, dismembered limbs scattered like grotesque decorations. The screams of the dying and the victorious roared in my ears. I felt sick, the bile rising in my throat.

I wanted to run, but where? There was no escape. Death loomed on all sides, ready to claim me if I made one wrong move. My only hope was that the Homonhon Empire, the empire of legends mentioned in the scrolls, held the key to my salvation.

All this stupid war, the scroll, and the codes better hold the power they claim, or I swear, I’ll burn them all.

Clang

I froze, my heart lurching as something whizzed past on my right side. I didn’t dare look, but in my peripheral vision, I caught the blur of its movement, too fast, too close. A shiver crawled down my spine, memories of that first horrifying day—the chaos, the violence—slamming into me like a tidal wave.

'Please don’t be a head. Please, not a head,' I begged silently, my breath hitching in my throat.

With agonizing slowness, I forced myself to turn, inch by inch, terror constricting my chest as I braced for the worst.