The morning sun had barely crested the horizon when the training grounds of Merch's Red Flags camp stirred to life. Mist curled lazily over the grass, and the smell of damp earth mixed with the metallic tang of sweat. Children and teenagers who had passed the trial of combat gathered in lines, eyes wide, muscles tense. Nobles and peasants alike stood shoulder to shoulder, their differences muted by the weight of the armor and the weapons strapped to their backs.
Arrielle moved among them, inspecting stances, adjusting grips, and nodding where effort met discipline. Maria's eyes flitted over the students, sharp as a hawk's, ready to punish sloppiness or correct arrogance. Both women were the first layer of guidance, the mentors who would shape the raw recruits into soldiers capable of survival—and perhaps, one day, mastery.
"Focus on your breathing!" Arrielle barked, voice carrying over the early morning air. "Mana flows with your heart, not your limbs! Feel it! Sense it! Do not let it run wild, or it will devour you!"
A dozen students stumbled in unison, tiny sparks of mana flickering into the air before sputtering and dying. Some gasped, others swore under their breath. One boy, barely fourteen, stumbled so hard that his staff struck the ground, sending a small wave of residual energy across the training square. The sparks dissipated like fireflies in the morning light.
Maria knelt beside a girl with silver hair, roughly the same age as the boy. She placed a hand lightly on the girl's shoulder, feeling the pulse of her nascent mana core. "You're forcing it. Relax. The core will awaken only when it trusts you. Courage without control is useless."
The girl closed her eyes, shaking slightly, and let herself breathe. Slowly, a faint green glow appeared in the palm of her hand, soft but steady. A minor elemental spark—a leaf-shaped flicker that quivered like it had a life of its own. Maria nodded once, sharply. "Good. Now, do not lose it."
At the far end of the field, a group of recruits sparred in pairs, swinging wooden swords, staffs, and axes. Sparks of mana flared with each impact, sending echoes of light across the misty morning. Some hits were precise, others sloppy, but all carried the weight of determination. One recruit, a boy of seventeen, collapsed mid-duel, gasping. His intestines felt as if they had tied themselves in knots.
"Warrior Pills," Arrielle whispered, sliding a small capsule into his hand. "One pill will suppress your fear. You can keep fighting—but remember: overuse stunts your core. You may gain courage, but you risk stalling your cultivation."
The boy hesitated. Sweat ran into his eyes. He swallowed, and the pill dissolved instantly, sending a strange warmth coursing through his chest. Suddenly, pain dulled, muscles surged with energy, and fear evaporated. He stood, eyes burning, and struck again with renewed strength. Yet even as he fought, a dull ache settled in his chest, a silent warning: the pill came at a price.
From above, Daniel watched through Vax, silent and unseen. Every student, every flicker of mana, every heartbeat and misstep passed through his awareness. He noted the ones who were too arrogant, the ones who rushed without thought, and the ones who hesitated despite courage in their hearts. Those who fought purely for show were mentally flagged for reassignment or removal. Those who persevered through struggle, even if flawed, were carefully cataloged.
By mid-morning, the first formal awakening exercise began. Recruits were led into small arenas, each enclosed by illusionary barriers. Inside, shadows twisted into monstrous forms: beasts of fire and stone, spectral demons with glowing eyes, and swirling elemental anomalies. The goal was simple, yet impossible without proper cultivation: awaken the mana core while fending off the illusions.
One boy, previously dismissed for arrogance, faltered instantly. He swung wildly, striking only at air, and fell to the ground as a shadow beast leapt for him. A faint, blue-green barrier flashed from the mentor's hand, protecting him from serious harm, but he did not pass the test.
A girl, petite and quiet, stood trembling as a phantom serpent coiled around her. Her palms glowed faintly, sparks of mana flying like butterflies. She did not strike immediately. Instead, she breathed, felt her heartbeat, and allowed the core to resonate with the surrounding energy. When she struck, the serpent shattered into a cloud of black dust, leaving her standing, exhausted but victorious.
Arrielle and Maria walked the edges, whispering cautions, pushing others to focus on harmony rather than power alone. "You must balance courage with discipline. Strength without control is death," Arrielle reminded them. "Your mana core is like a seed. Nurture it. Fight with it, not against it."
Political tension simmered beyond the training grounds. Merch's alignment with the Red Flags had caused murmurs in neighboring states. Envoys arrived, observing, asking pointed questions. A few nobles openly voiced suspicion, wondering why a battalion of humans—mere soldiers—held such sway over a kingdom. "The Red Flags' methods are… unusual," one diplomat said. "They recruit children, train them in cultivation… can this be trusted?"
Others argued the opposite. Merch's recovery after the miasma, the orderly cleanup of the battlefield, the construction of teleport gates, and the disciplined army under Red Flags supervision made their kingdom stronger than ever. Trade routes opened, wealth flowed, and loyalty shifted. City Knightfall became the central hub of power. Daniel's empire grew quietly, without banners, without speeches, yet with each passing day, human unification edged closer.
In one corner of the camp, recruits whispered in awe of the stories from the battlefield. A Red Flags warrior had kept fighting even as his guts spilled, holding them with one hand while swinging his blade with the other. "For God's sake, those guys are really strong," one recruit muttered. Admiration mixed with fear. Even the strongest among the young students dreamed of someday reaching such a level.
By evening, exhaustion weighed heavily over the training grounds. Sparks of mana drifted faintly, glowing in the dusk as apprentices meditated on their progress. Some had awakened minor elemental abilities, hints of fire, wind, or earth flickering along their limbs. Others remained dormant, their cores stubborn and silent, yet their eyes still burned with determination.
Daniel's presence, invisible and unassuming, lingered over the camp. Each child he selected, each path he subtly guided, each warrior pill given or withheld, was part of a larger plan. They were more than recruits. They were the foundations of a human unification under his vision. The Red Flags battalion was not just an army—it was a school of cultivation, a hub of power, and the first step in forming a continent-wide influence that no kingdom alone could resist.
Prince Eloween walked among the apprentices, her eyes scanning the young faces. "They are… remarkable," she murmured. "And yet, there is more than what we see. A force shaping them—quiet, unseen… but undeniable."
The stars began to pierce the night sky. Fireflies blinked across the grounds. The wolves rested, alert yet calm. The young recruits lay in the temporary barracks, exhausted, their hearts racing from the trials and lessons.
And somewhere, hidden from sight, Daniel smiled faintly. The seeds of power were taking root. The next generation of Red Flags warriors would grow strong, disciplined, and loyal. And through them, his influence—quiet, unseen, unstoppable—would spread across the human continent.
The empire was invisible. Yet it was rising.