Arcane Warfare: From the Ashes of a Disposable Soldier

 Despite the growing pressure in his chest, Cedar focused on the task at hand.

 Inside, he found a familiar set of basic survival gear: potions, rations, a fire lighter, a water filter bag, and a rolled-up sleeping bag.

 It's almost identical to his own military kit, except for one item—a small necklace, tucked away in the corner of the bag.

 Curiosity got the better of him, and for a moment, Cedar held it in his hand. Inside the locket was a tiny picture, faded but clear enough: a family, smiling, with the dead soldier at its center.

 His stomach tightened, but the feeling was quickly pushed aside.

 There's no room for guilt. Not here. This is war, and the only way to survive is to stay focused.

 There's no good side—only survivors and the dead.

 Without a second thought, he tossed the necklace away into the rubble.

 With the supplies gathered, he made his way back to his ally, who had already begun setting up a makeshift camp in the small forest clearing.

 The sky had turned dark, and the cool night air offered a brief moment of relief from the burning pain still lingering in his muscles.

 The other mage has found a cave, and he has already prepared a small fire to heat up the canned rations.

 After taking another mana potion, he's moving better now, his earlier exhaustion fading away.

 He even managed to find a nearby stream, collecting water and washing the worst of the battlefield grime from his hands and face.

 Cedar sat beside him, and in silence, he shared the supplies he scavenged.

 There's no need for words. Each of them knows the value of every single item.

 As Cedar checked his gun and set aside the rations, the silvered-hair mage cast a glance at him, his gaze lingering on the weapon in Cedar's hand.

 Cedar could tell he had been eyeing the gun for a while now, and finally, he spoke.

"Those bullets..." he said, his voice low. "Anti-magic rounds. I haven't seen those in a while. Only officers or special units are issued those. You, uh... you one of them?"

 He paused, his question hanging in the air.

 Cedar looked down at the gun in his hand, inspecting it closely.

 In the world of magic, guns themselves aren't special—most soldiers rely on spells, staffs, or enchanted weapons.

 But these bullets are something else entirely. They're rare, made to cut through barriers and shields with ease, and designed specifically to target mages.

 Most soldiers would kill to get their hands on just one of these rounds, and here Cedar is, with four left in his possession.

 He had ten at the start, scavenged from a dead enemy officer in a previous battle. Six are already spent, used in the heat of war.

 He met his ally eyes for a moment, seeing the curiosity there.

 Cedar knew what he was thinking.

 Cedar's uniform is the standard issue—no medals, no special rank insignia.

 To him, Cedar's just another soldier, like him, but the bullets tell a different story.

"Found them on a battlefield," he finally said, his voice even. "From an enemy officer. Figured they'd be better used in my hands than his."

"Lucky." He nods slowly, digesting the words.

 There's no need for further explanation. In war, luck plays a bigger role than anyone likes to admit.

 Cedar found the bullets, and that's all that matters.

 Rank means little when you're faced with death every day.

 As the fire crackles softly between them, the night grows quieter, the sounds of the distant battle now just faint echoes in the background.

 They could still hear the faint rushing of the stream nearby, and the warmth of the fire began to soothe their aching body.

 For a brief moment, it feels like a small piece of peace amidst the chaos.

 Cedar and his partner eat in silence, the taste of the warmed rations bland but filling. The reality of their situation is clear.

 They've escaped for now, but the war is far from over.

 The city of Aelith has likely fallen, and soon the Imperium's forces will spread across the surrounding lands.

 They'll need to find another camp, regroup with whatever remains of their regiment, and prepare for whatever comes next.

 As he finished your meal and prepared to settle in for the night, the other mage spoke again, his voice quieter this time, almost reflective.

"Do you think... there's nowhere left to retreat to?" he asked, his eyes flickering with uncertainty as he stared into the fire.

 "We've been fighting so long. It feels like we're just holding on, waiting to lose."

 His words hung heavy in the air, a weight Cedar could feel in your chest.

"Is there any difference?" Cedar muttered, staring into the flickering flames of the campfire.

 "The war isn't ending anytime soon. Any victories we win are just... temporary. Doesn't really matter how much ground we gain, we're just holding on until we lose."

 The weight of his own words sat heavily in the cool night air, and for a moment, he saw the flicker of hopelessness in his ally's eyes deepen.

 But Cedar quickly shook it off.

 No!

 This isn't the time to spiral into despair.

 Not when survival is still on the line.

"How about we talk about something else?" he said, his tone lighter. "I noticed you're skilled with that surfboard, but you're not wearing any special uniform either."

 Cedar shifted the conversation, trying to pull it away from the dark reality of the war.

 The silvered-hair mage hesitated, casting him a glance from across the fire before sighing. "Actually... I come from a noble family," he admitted, his voice quiet, almost reluctant.

 Cedar blinked, surprised by the confession. "Really? A noble? Then why are you out here, on the front lines?"

 It's a valid question.

 Though the Union isn't as rigid with social hierarchy as the Imperium, nobles still wield power and influence, even if that power has waned over the years.

 A nobleman on the front lines, without even a special officer's uniform or rank?

 It's unusual.

 Cedar can't help but wonder why someone of his status would find himself in the same mud and blood as common soldiers like you.

 He chuckled, but there's no humor in it, only bitterness.

"Yeah, really. My family used to be important—back in the day. We were part of the old council, but… things changed. The Union doesn't look kindly on those with ties to the past, especially when those ties involve power."

 Cedar raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "So... what happened?"

 He shrugged, his gaze distant, as though remembering something long buried.

"My father tried to hold onto some influence after the council was dissolved. Thought he could still make a difference. It didn't go well. In the end, they stripped us of almost everything—titles, lands, you name it. We kept the family name, but that's all. When the war started, there wasn't much choice for me. I enlisted like everyone else. No special privileges, no family shield to hide behind."

 Cedar leaned back slightly, letting the information sink in.

 It's not uncommon to hear stories of nobles losing their power, but there's something strange about the way he talked about it—like he doesn't care about what his family lost, only about the path that led him here.

"I guess that explains why you're so good with the surfboard," Cedar said, trying to lighten the mood again.

"They probably didn't teach that in commoner training camps."

 He smirked.

"You'd be right. My father made sure I got the best education growing up, even if it didn't mean much in the end. I trained with all sorts of magic combat lessons and tech—surfboards were just one of those things. It's funny, though. Back then, I thought I'd never need it. Now, it's the only reason I'm still alive."

 Cedar nodded, understanding more now.

 Behind his skill and the way he handled the surfboard earlier, there's a deeper story—a past that he left behind, just like this war is forcing everyone to abandon something.

"I get it," you say, your voice soft. "We all have things we've left behind. People. Places. It's all just... gone now."

 They were silent for a moment, the fire casting shadows across their face.

 Then the other looked up at Cedar, something like gratitude in his eyes. "Thanks. For not making it... weird. I don't talk about it much."

 Cedar shrugged. "We're all just trying to survive out here. Doesn't matter where you came from or what you used to have. Out here, we're the same."

 He nodded, his expression softening, and for a brief moment, the weight of the war seemed to lift—just a little.