There exists a little-known road connecting two neighboring villages. There is nothing particular about this arrangement, nor can anything uncanny be found on the road itself or in the villages it connects. Such a place is unremarkable to most eyes, as it was to mine.

  It was around noon and the sun was shining while the caravaneers and I were passing by the said road. The small pond beside us was clearly reflecting the sky. There was, however, one more object with a plain, crystal clear reflection. A rock at the side of the road. It was a beautiful rock, unfit for such a plain and boring road. A merchant might have dreamed of finding it; a noble woman would have paid a fortune to have it, no doubt. Alas, it was I who found it. The crystal was mine. That is, of course, if none of the caravaneers behind me got to it first. I strayed from the path we were taking, moving left to where the rock was. I was moving subtly so as not to be noticed. I did not want the rock to be taken by someone else. I approached it and knelt, placing my left leg in front of the rock. Pretending to tie my shoe while swiftly picking up the rock and hiding it deep in my pocket. It was mine. I just had to make sure that no one else would see it.

  We passed the rest of the road fairly uneventfully, escorting someone of importance as I was told. Of course, a mere lackey like me would not have been told the full details of the mission. I was merely told it would be easy and so far I had no reason to suspect this. No reason to suspect anything would change. I was relaxed and I remained unconfronted about the rock. I would remain this way until one of the caravaneers approached me and asked:

  "You seem awfully young to be around here by yourself."

  "Well, it's not supposed to be a difficult mission and I am not as young as I seem."

  "Eh, as grown up as you might see yourself to be. You are never really old until you've lived through certain things. It is always good seeing young folk like you pull their own weight though."

  I did not say anything back. He, evidently growing uncomfortable from the silence, pointed towards the village ahead and said:

  "Look, we are almost there. "

  He then waited a few seconds to continue his speech:

  "Yet it seems this voyage will not be as uneventful as this one had hoped."

  I was confused and before I could ask what he meant the commander of the mission yelled:

  "Take formation! Mages at the back, warriors protect the mages. The enemy is approaching from above."

  I looked up and saw a horde of Wyverns flying above. They are classified as low-tier monsters, but what I was seeing was pure terror. Their strong hides were born from their endless strife to not get killed. For many, they were covered in scars. Trophies from their previous battles. Their bloody claws were sharper than the sharpest of swords and they were ripping the caravan into shreds. The metal armors of the warriors were, to them, mere cloth. Their eyes, unwaveringly looking at their prey. For when a wyvern locks eyes with someone, they never escape alive.

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  Without much rest arrows from the caravaneers started flying towards the wyverns yet their hides were too tough for the arrows to cause any real damage. The archers were mere bugs compared to them, let alone the few arrows they shot.

  Some wyverns were rushing in, trying to take people with their rear legs. While some were defeated by warriors, a few were taken away and later dropped from great heights resulting in their certain deaths. The mages were still imploring the mana around us, trying to convince them to attack the wyverns. Yet the damp wood mana did not listen to their will. We were in the forest and to convince even the littlest of wood mana to set ablaze involved convincing the entire forest. The mages, not shying away from the challenge, were attempting to do this. Profusely sweating, locked in place and desperately needing protection by the few warriors left. On the surface they remained still, unable to do anything. Even so their sweat was proof of their exhaustion. A battle fought through willpower.

  Amidst the clashing swords and screaming porters I, like the mages remained frozen in place. Unable to do anything. Except, unlike them, I was unable to even put in effort.

  I wondered if I was truly so weak that I could not do anything. I felt as if I was. Ever since my birth I had been useless anyways. I had no affinity for any of the five elements nor was I able to wield the sword properly. I was not blessed with anything. I didn't even have the money to eat properly. The stone in my back pocket was probably my most valuable possession. All in all, to call my existence fragile would not be an understatement.

  Yet some part of me wants something greater. Which is probably what put me in this mess anyway. Ah, I wish I had taken my payment in advance. Then I could run without looking back. I will still run, don't misunderstand, it's just that I would have preferred it to have been with the payment instead.

  I scouted a narrow path in the forest and made a run for it. It would be difficult for wyverns to follow me into the forest yet I ran for a good fifteen minutes without looking back and collapsed in front of an oak tree. I was thirsty yet had no water. I wondered what happened to the rest of the caravaneers until I saw wood mana leaving the trees in the forest and rising to the sky before a great, bright red flame covered the atmosphere, swiftly making way for the blue to settle back in. With a force this large they must have won the fight.

  It hit me then, that I was now a deserter. That alone was fine, I could go elsewhere. The empire was in turmoil and good work would be appreciated anywhere. The problem was the nobles. If one of them were to be unreasonable he could have all of us hanged by next week. Even worse, I do not know who the nobles we were escorting were supposed to be.

  I looked at my back pocket without much to do. The rock was still there along with a small dagger. I pondered what would happen to me now. I suppose I could make it back if I run and claim I was attacked by a wolf or something. Since they won anyways just begging for forgiveness would be enough too.

  I thought to myself for a while. An inner war, if you will. Although undeserving of that title for I wouldn't be snatched by a wyvern anytime soon. Wait! That's it. If I return with the corpse of one of the men who were snatched by the wyverns I could argue that I went to pick him up. Better yet if it was one of the nobles. They'd even pay me money for retrieving the corpse.

  I started aimlessly running through the forest in hopes of finding a corpse. Not the fate I had expected when I declined that graveyard gig a few years back but all is well for I would not be called a deserter if I could just find one corpse.