Even after adapting and improving the empire's techniques, sharing his insights, and outperforming all expectations, Baines never once smiled.
The higher-ups noticed, of course. His silent demeanor wasn't just a mystery anymore; it had become an enigma. Still, they couldn't demand answers. Asking why someone wasn't happy didn't sound right, not in a military as disciplined as this.
So, they sent others. Even the talkative one who got the most of Baines's attention, but nothing.
On the ninth day since his entrance, Baines was promoted from recruit to Battlefield Commander. The youngest ever and the fastest ever. This was the first rank given to those going up in the leadership ladder, and it was usually earned after a decade of service.
His fame on the last front grew, and it came with a nickname: Young Sun Commander.
His achievements also robbed of on the other recruits.
By the twelfth day, over 50% of the recruits in the combined training had perfected their training, with 2% of that number learning the battle formations and commands, and by the fifteenth day, 40% were ready to officially move to the main barracks as soldiers.
Of the 40%, 60% of them who were 3rd star, 20% who were 4th star, and Baines was the only 5th star, were considered next generation. This was the most talented the last front had ever gathered.
However, as others were jubilating, only one person was indifferent, and he turned out to be the most celebrated of them.
"Finally," Baines muttered, staring at his reflection one last time. He pulled his scarf over his mouth, picked up his gear, and left.
He was met with thousands of recruits he was marching with today on the central ground.
Without a word, amidst the silence, he led the recruits, now soldiers, in a march to the main barracks. There were no instructors to monitor them, no, as the most talented of the crowd, they knew what was expected.
They weren't going to another training ground. It was the real battlefield. This was where the main fighting they had all been learning about would come to play, the place where survival separated the elite from the unworthy.
As they crossed the boundary of the training, they were met with another scenery. Thicker stench of blood, the leftover snow around, and stronger beings.
Here, Baines was already sensing fellow 5th star soldiers; however, there was one surprising thing. It was that, here, to welcome them was a peak 6th star: High Commander Dinkret.
He had a tall stature, white hair neatly packed, and his elaborate military dress.
Normally, he wouldn't be present, but Baines's existence had become too significant to ignore.
With one final step, the new soldiers halted before five figures in ornate uniforms and saluted most respectfully.
All eyes, including Dinkret's, landed on Baines.
'Good temperament. Great talent. But those eyes…' Dinkret thought. High Commander Dinkret could see Baines looking at him, however, it was like he didn't even put him in his eyes.
'We should try and find out the reason.' After the thought, he accepted the recruits into the main barracks.
Then came the unexpected—
"Show respect! The Darkan family is arriving!" A voice resounded, telling them to remain saluted.
'They're just arriving now?' Baines blinked. Vole had spoken like they'd already been stationed. 'Then, how did he know?'
Whoooosh…
From the skies, specks appeared, growing larger by the second until they became more visible.
About three-meter-long beasts with thick, scaled hides and thundering wings, ridden by armored warriors.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
One by one, they landed. Dozens turned to hundreds. Hundreds to thousands.
The Darkan Family.
Descendants of an ancient red dragon. Before his death, he left eggs for his bloodline. Now, they were dragon-knights. Along the way, they fell and became a power under the empire.
Then, two massive dragons landed in front of the gathering.
DOOOM. DOOOM.
After releasing a thunderous roar, the riders dismounted.
"Welcome, Lord Darkan," Commander Dinkret bowed towards the towering man.
Lord Darkan stood tall, red-haired and powerful, his aura oppressive. But it wasn't his stature that silenced the crowd.
A 7th star.
Even Baines stiffened. Other than Martos, whose level he couldn't yet confirm, this man was the strongest he'd seen.
"Dinkret?" Lord Darkan smiled and greeted with familiarity.
"You must've had a long flight. And welcome, Lady Tasha." Dinkret also bowed to the woman behind.
With beautiful flowing red hair, gorgeous curves, and a pretty and indifferent face, she was the woman referred to as Tasha.
'4th star,' Baines observed, then looked back at the Darkan family head.
"Hahaha," Darkan's gaze finally landed on Baines, who didn't flinch. "And who is this one… so unshaken under pressure?" His voice showed surprise.
"He's the most talented of the recruits," Commander Dinkret replied.
"Fifth star? At such an age?" Darkan's voice held disbelief. The talk also seemed to have attracted Tasha's attention as she looked at him.
However, with his scarf covering his mouth, she couldn't get a full view, but her interest was piqued.
Dinkret quickly pivoted, "Lord Dinkret, we believe an attack may happen today," while leading the Darkan's lord away, leaving the two sides glancing at each other.
...
Later, in the Darkan residence...
After a few hours of meeting, Lord Darkas was with his daughter, relaxing in the living room.
Whoosh…
A figure appeared kneeling before them.
"And?" Tasha asked.
"His name is Jin. He was recommended by Vole Malakar, who claims to have trained him."
"That's all?" Tasha asked, unimpressed.
"There's more," the subordinate said. "Since arriving, he's mastered the techniques, formations, and strategies of all three legions. It's said he even created one."
"What?" Lord Darkan's eyes narrowed.
"He defended it before a panel. The report said his knowledge even gave them insight."
Father and daughter shared a long look—an unspoken conclusion forming.
Before they could speak further—
WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
An alarm shattered the calm.
The two shot to their feet.
Subordinates rushed in, and orders were given as preparations were made.
In the barracks quarters, the call to arms echoed everywhere.
Baines moved in silence. Armor on. Scarf wrapped. Cloak fixed. He stepped onto the cold ground, reached his warhorse, and mounted.
Soon, over a hundred thousand soldiers were formed in the assembly yard, facing a grand platform.
Atop it stood the 7th star of the Pyre Vanguard: Grand Commander Wastin Ploot.
"Thousands of nomads and barbarians are charging this front," he roared. "They think they can break us. But what are we?!"
"THE VANGUARD!!" A thunderous reply.
"I SAID—WHAT? ARE. WE?"
""THE VANGUARD!!""
"OPEN THE GATES!"
DRRRMMMMMMMMMMMMM
A colossal metal door that led outside the last front rose, revealing snow-covered plains.
In the far distance, shadows could be seen rumbling toward them like an avalanche. No one needed to be told. These were the enemies.
"MOVE!!"
Commander Ploot led the charge, and the vanguard stormed out.
Five hundred meters away from the gate, his voice rang out again:
"FORMATION 2: INFERNAL CHARGE!"
Like a well-oiled machine, the army shifted into a flaming arrowhead of a hundred thousand.
Riders and horses burst into flame, melting the snow underneath their feet and undeterred by pain from the heat.
Minutes later, the distant rumbling shadows became visible.
"KILL THEM!!!" The Grand Commander gave a final order as they reached the enemy.
With their blazing formation, the Vanguard collided with the enemy line.
BOOOOOOOOOOM
The battlefield erupted in chaos.