Arcane Warfare: From the Ashes of a Disposable Soldier

 Cedar stood patiently in line, his mind focused and ready for any command.

 Cities burned under the onslaught of magical bombardments, entire landscapes were transformed by cataclysmic spellcraft. The sky was often streaked with the glowing trails of mana-powered airships.

 Cedar was not anyone special.

 He was merely a foot soldier in the 3rd Arcane Infantry Regiment of the Eastern Union. His magical talents were modest at best. He had been trained to cast simple shielding spells, cloaking spells, and basic elemental bolts—enough to survive in battle, but far from the powers wielded by the war mages and officers above him.

 Now, he had been assigned to the front lines in the crumbling city of Aelith, where the Union was desperately holding back the assault from the Imperium of Hadris. The ground trembled beneath his feet as massive firestorms engulfed the city blocks ahead.

 Buildings toppled, torn apart by violent blasts of magic, and the air was thick with the hum of arcane energies. Explosions of light flashed in the distance as towering war mages dueled high above the battlefield, their spells lighting up the sky like a second sun.

 Nearby, his comrades prepared for another wave of enemy assault, their faces grim and determined. The war felt endless, each day a desperate struggle just to survive.

 Cedar tightened the straps on his worn leather armor and glanced around at the other soldiers in his unit. Most wore grim, emotionless expressions, exhausted from days of stressful marching with little sleep.

 He could feel the weight of his arcane rifle, a modified staff imbued with the power to channel elemental blasts, resting heavily in his hands.

 The solid, heavy metal staff gave him assurance of a higher chance to survive.

 Suddenly, a lieutenant with singed armor approached, his face shadowed beneath the brim of his helmet. "Prepare yourselves," he growled.

"The Imperium is sending another wave. Hold your ground, or we'll all be ash."

 He didn't wait for questions.

 With a sharp gesture, the call to arms rang out. Front-line mages began chanting spells, barriers of shimmering light forming around them.

 The horizon darkened as the Imperium's forces marched closer and closer. Legions of arcane soldiers, flying constructs, and towering elementals approach.

 The air crackled with tension, the vibrations of enemy footsteps reverberating through the ground like a thunderous storm. The lieutenant's voice cut through the chaos, sharp and commanding.

"Hold your ground!" he shouted, his voice hoarse but steady as the enemy appeared on the horizon.

 And then, like a whirlwind, the Imperium's forces rushed toward them, moving impossibly fast, their black armor glinting in the fading light.

 Cedar heard the rush of wind and the pounding of boots. Before he could think, the lieutenant's next command pierced the air:

"Fire!"

 In perfect unison, they raised their arms, feeling the surge of mana coursing through their veins. A searing flash of light burst from Cedar's staff as he cast a spell that felt almost instinctual.

 Arcs of electricity crackling through the air.

 The first wave of the enemy was struck, collapsing under the magical onslaught. Bodies crumpled, armor clattering to the ground. But the Imperium's soldiers pressed on, their speed unnatural.

 The second line of mages behind them acted without hesitation. Fireballs and ice shards shot past Cedar's shoulders, hitting the soldiers who managed to get through the front line.

 Their bodies froze and shattered, or they burned, collapsing into charred remains.

 It seemed like the tide was turning.

 But then, something was wrong!

 Cedar's amulet, a small, worn relic meant to detect danger, suddenly burned ice-cold against his chest.

 He didn't have time to think, just enough to feel his instincts scream. Without hesitation, he threw his hand out, barely able to conjure a weak shield of glowing light before—

 BOOM!

 The world exploded around him.

 The corpses of the enemy soldiers, bodies that should have been still, suddenly detonated, sending shockwaves through the ranks.

 The explosion destroyed the united barrier in seconds like fragile glass.

 Flames, debris, and shards of metal flew in every direction. His shield shattered violently as the force of the blast slammed into it, cracking under the pressure but just barely saving him.

 His knees buckled from the force, the heat scalding his face.

 Cries of pain echoed behind him, some weren't as lucky, their shields not forming in time. The ground was littered with fallen soldiers, their bodies thrown back by the blast.

 He could hear the panicked shouts of survivors as they tried to regroup, their ranks thrown into chaos.

 Breathing hard, Cedar dropped to one knee, the shock of the explosion still ringing in his ears.

 Around him, the battlefield had been thrown into utter disarray. The enemy forces, those who survived the blast, were moving closer, faster now, sensing weakness in their ranks.

 He had survived, for now!

 But the battle was far from over. The smell of burnt flesh clung to his nostrils, and the searing pain shot through his limbs, but he managed to remain focused, training kicking in like second nature.

 The blast had left him barely standing, his shield all but shattered. His breath came in ragged gasps as he assessed the damage to his body: deep burns, cuts from shrapnel, his armor dented and scorched.

 But he could still move. That was enough.

 With trembling hands, Cedar fumbled into his pocket, pulling out a small flask of healing potion. Without hesitation, he uncorked it with his teeth and downed it in one desperate gulp.

 The liquid burned like fire in his throat, but almost immediately, he felt the magic of the potion working, his wounds began to close, skin knitting together, and the pain dulled to a tolerable ache. He threw the empty flask to the ground, already reaching for the next.

 This time, it was a mana potion. He could feel his magical reserves nearly depleted, the strain of summoning his shield leaving him vulnerable.

 He drank quickly, the cool liquid restoring his mana, like a breeze rushing through his veins, reigniting his ability to cast.

 But he knew he was far from safe.

 He murmured the words to a hiding spell under his breath, a subtle shimmer spreading across his body as the magic took hold, bending the light around him.

 He disappeared from sight, becoming a shadow amidst the chaos. Not a moment too soon, enemy mages patrolled the field, their eyes scanning for survivors. If he hadn't cloaked himself, he'd have been an easy target.

 Glancing around the shattered battlefield, Cedar spotted a cluster of collapsed buildings a few hundred meters away, their crumbling walls still standing tall enough to offer some protection. With the front lines decimated and the defense shattered, he had no illusions about the futility of staying here.

 The enemy would soon overrun what remained of the regiment, and the next magical assault would level everything in its path.

 He darted between the bodies of fallen comrades, the thrum of enemy magic humming dangerously close. His legs screamed in protest, every movement sending a fresh jolt of pain through his burnt skin, but he pushed forward.

 Shelter. He needed shelter.

 Reaching the ruins, Cedar slipped inside a gap between two broken walls, collapsing to the ground, his breath ragged.

 The sound of explosions and screams still echoed outside, but here, for the moment, he was safe.

 His invisibility spell flickered but held steady, just enough to keep him hidden.